This story was a commission for Siegmar. Thanks for commissioning!

Summary: In this WildWorld spinoff, a tabloid photographer sneaks into a famous yet reclusive actress's Hollywood mansion in an attempt to uncover her secrets. Yet he learns far more than he wants to know... a panther tf by me

Length: 14,500 words


A Purr-fect opportunity: Panther tf

Panther commission 2



Jacob angrily surveyed the pictures splayed out across the flimsy dining room table of his apartment. He hated this place, it was a cocktail of weed pipes, empty beer cans, and various unemployment fliers scattered about the floor. The appliances were from the Nixon administration, not that his roommates ever cooked or washed dishes. The inside of the oven was the only clean thing in the apartment. But even with roommates it was the only place he could afford.

He desperately wanted out but with this current set of pictures he’d be lucky to even pay his share of the rent this month. They were comprised of blurry images of the backs of numerous celebrities’ heads, mostly hidden behind the swarms of other paparazzi jostling for a spot next to the red carpet. He’d fought for hours to get one good photo. No dice. He knew no tabloid would buy these. He slammed his fist on the table in frustration.

D**n it, Tyrell, can you stop smoking for ONE SECOND?!” He angrily turned towards the whale-like creature splayed out on a couch that went out of style in the fifties, eyes glued to some dumb superhero flick. He was munching on a cheeseburger and smoking weed at the same time.

“Mind your own business bruh,” he grunted, taking another whiff from his pipe. Jacob held his breath and tried not to gag. The whole place reeked of weed and other unidentifiable but probably illegal drugs, and Jacob hated it. The smell was baked into the walls at this point, and no matter how many times he cleaned the place it was always lingering. Didn’t help that Tyrell smoked at least three times a day. It made Jacob furious, and having a bad work day did not help matters at all.

“ I live here and I consider this my business.” he replied curtly. “ You gotta stop smelling up the place. And get a f***king job so you can chip in on rent.”

“Shut up!” Tyrell replied, propping himself up on the couch. “You can’t tell me how I f***kin’ live in my house! I can kick you the f*k out whenever I want!” He breathed out a mouthful of smoke just for spite. Jacob groaned.

“ First off, it’s your mom’s place, not yours. Second off, it’s not a house, it’s a dumpster fire apartment in the worst neighborhood in LA. And third, you can’t kick me out cause I’m the only one who actually does stuff around here.” He folded his arms defiantly. It felt like they had this argument every day, but Tyrell wouldn’t listen. Nevertheless, Jacob knew he was right. Tyrell’s mom had been laid off from her nursing job and now worked double-shifts as a waitress to make ends meet. They couldn’t afford this place either without Jacob’s additional income. Of course, Jacob couldn’t afford a place on his own and so he was stuck. It was why he dealt with this crap every single day.

Tyrell grumbled and turned back towards the TV, muttering obscenities under his breath. Jacob rolled his eyes and turned back towards the photos spread out on the table. He sighed. Usually his crop of pictures was much better than this. He coughed and choked as the smoke once again began to fill the air. Ugh. He couldn’t do this here.

Grumbling under his breath he grabbed his car keys off the counter and stormed outside into the warm Southern California sun. If there was one good thing about LA, it was the weather. It was great, if you could afford it. Jacob had yet to fit into that category.

He had no real idea where he was going, but it probably wasn’t a coincidence that he now stood outside a bar. It was as if his subconscious knew what he really needed, and Jacob wasn’t about to say no. It was a seedy-looking joint, one that reflected the deflated look of defeat on Jacob’s face. The inside was covered in faded posters of singers and movie stars who’d never step foot in this blur of cigarette smoke and neon because many of them were long dead. Stars such as Micheal Jackson, Sean Connery and Prince adorned the walls, faded posters advertising concerts held decades ago. Club music pulsed throughout the joint but to Jacob it was all just noise. He went right to the bar.

He was through 3 cheap beers and working his way through a fourth when his phone buzzed. Groggily he picked up the device and held it to his ear.

“ Yyyyello?” He answered in a stupor. The voice on the other end was a familiar one. Chipper yet serious, with a thick Eastern European accent. He could barely make it out through the industrial-strength fan whirring in the background but that was typical.

“Hey Jacob, it’s Aras. How’s it going friend?”

“Heyy Aras,” Jacob slurred. “Whassup man?”

“Are you drinking again? You sound like a caged bear. ” The voice on the other end appeared cross, and Jacob quickly threw himself together. He wiped his mouth and dusted his shirt off out of habit, even though nobody was there.

“ Nah man, I’m fine,” he knew Aras wouldn’t believe his thinly veiled lie. He just hoped he was coherent enough to form words. Aras was one of his main buyers, and he couldn’t afford to piss him off. Fortunately for him, he heard laughter on the other side.

“ Sure you are. Well listen, I’ve got a lead that’ll get you off your barstool. You know that famous actress Lizzy Lourdes?” Jacob’s heart skipped a beat and he immediately sat up on his stool.

“Isn’t she a singer as well? She’s all the rage in Hollywood right now. I bet the big magazines would pay big for some in depth gossip.”

“Exactly.” Aras’s voice was now pleasant over the phone. “ You’re a real Sherlock holmes, that’s what I like about ya. But listen. She's having that big a$$ party tonight and they ain’t lettin’ us tabloid folks in. But lucky for you, I have a contact who works security at her big-a$$ mansion in Beverly Hills. He’ll sneak you an official press pass and get you in. After that you can work some of your magic. ” Jacob slowly grinned, setting his drink down onto the counter. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he was bouncing like a jackrabbit.

“Will do, sir. I’ll have some A+ pictures for you once I’m done. You can count on me.” Jacob eagerly put down the phone and without finishing his drink, scampered out into the parking lot towards his car. He fished a faded notebook from the glove compartment and rifled through it till he found a scribbled on calendar. And his grin stretched from ear to ear.

Sure enough, there was a note scribbled on today’s date in red ink. Ms. Lourdes was hosting a red-carpet gala tonight to celebrate the launch of her new eco-friendly fashion line made from organically sourced materials. It was to be a major fundraiser event, with the proceeds going towards animal conservation groups worldwide. The guest list included Pro athletes, movie stars, and even a couple heads-of-state. It was the party of the century and a paparazzi’s wet dream. Unfortunately, the organizers seemed to realize this and security tightened like a boa constrictor. Until now, he had given up on making it in. But this is why he had Aras. Once again the man had come through.
Jacob fumbled with his car keys, making several fruitless attempts to jab them into their correct hole before he realized he would be better off just taking a taxi. He was just cognizant enough to realize it was probably a bad idea to navigate LA traffic with 3 beers under his belt. With a resigned sigh and a mental promise to pick up his car later he picked up his phone.

An hour later Jacob found himself standing outside a dumpy looking self-storage complex in Culver City. After showing a bored looking security guard his ID, he typed in the entry code and walked down the endless rows of stainless steel units until he found the one he was looking for. Taking out a key, he unlocked the garage style door and pulled it open, revealing a scene that in the fading light of dusk looked almost like the green room at a broadway theater.

Row upon row of numerous costumes and clothes hung from metal hangers in a disorderly fashion. On the sides sat chests and shelves overflowing with antiquities and other junk. The half-burnt lightbulb in the middle was struggling to light the mess inside, causing the shadows to leap and spin across the space like dancers onstage. With the setting sun at his back, it gave the room an eerie appearance that unsettled Jacob despite him having been here many times before.

With a sigh he trudged into the mess, shuffling through the cobwebs and piles of clothes nobody had bothered to put up. This unit was owned by Aras and used by his entire network of underground freelance photographers. Apparently the previous users hadn’t bothered to clean up after they left.

Several of the mounted outfits were encased in plastic bags, like the ones that one might find at a local cleaner’s. Each one had a tag with a name scribbled on it. These were the ones that hadn’t been used yet. As he sifted through the costumes, he heard the roar of an engine behind him. Startled, he turned to find an old Mustang convertible pull up behind him. The cherry red paint had long since faded and the car appeared to be a husk of its former glory, a stark remnant of an era where Beehive hairdos and drive-in diners were popular. The driver pushed open the door and Jacob recognized him as he wedged his way out of the vehicle, face all smiles.

“Hey there Jacob! I’m glad I caught you in time!” The man was in his mid-fifties, and was dressed like a Picasso painting. What few remaining wisps of hair he had were caked onto the top of his obviously fake tan. He grinned, toothy smile reaching his dark aviator sunglasses. He wiped off some of the sweat caked onto his brow as he waddled over, taking a heady puff of his fine havana cigar.

“ Hey Aras. What’re you doing here?” Jacob asked inquisitively. “ You didn’t tell me you were gonna show up.”

“ I wanted to make sure you got the right stuff. After all, tonight is gonna be special,” he half-wheezed. Exercise was not his strong suit. “I got a special outfit for you.” He strode on over to the clothing rack and fingered through the tags hanging down while mumbling to himself. After about a minute he appeared to find what he was looking for.

“Aha!” He exclaimed, pulling down an outfit from the rack. Jacob’s eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. It was a full-blown tuxedo, the kind frequently sported in a James Bond movie. And it was a good one too. A midnight black Giorgio Armani jacket and slacks made from fine oriental silk, in flawless condition nonetheless. Jacob knew the louis vuitton bow tie alone cost more than a month’s rent. And had it recently been pressed? It must’ve cost Aras a fortune! Jacob quickly scrambled to pick his jaw up off the floor.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, flabbergasted. When he’d needed disguises earlier, the most he could count on was an uncomfortable plumber’s or gardener’s outfit that tended to drive him mad while he waited hours for the perfect shot. This was a whole nother level. “How the heck did you get your grubby hands on one of those?” Aras beamed with pride.

“I was able to rip it off one of our main buyers up in West Hollywood. Huge media guy, runs a tabloid empire. Stingy as hell but when I told him what it was for he was glad to loan it to us. Of course, get a stain on the thing and you’ll be paying for it for the rest of your life.” There was a hint of disgust in Aras’s voice but Jacob was too busy nodding his head enthusiastically. This was the outfit he’d always dreamed of wearing.
“And…” Aras continued, pulling out a lanyard from his shirt pocket. “I’ve managed to get you a press pass as well. Fake, of course, but the people I know are very reliable. This should get you past all their hot shot security.” Jacob winced as he plopped the lanyard into his hand. It was wet, from sweat no doubt. Jacob pushed the icky thoughts from his mind and studied the tag attached to the cord. He had to admit it was quite realistic. A thick sheet of sterilized plastic that identified the wearer as a journalist for CBN News Network. There was just one problem.

“My name is Scott Grisham? I didn’t realize I’d be using a different identity,” Jacob groaned, putting the lanyard around his neck. “Usually it takes me a couple days to learn new personas.” Aras sighed.

“Their press list is practically non-existent. Only a handful of select reporters are on the press list, and none of them were named Jacob. Think you can handle it?” Jacob nodded slowly, a disgruntled look on his face.

“Yeah…I’ll just have to make sure I remember,” he muttered as he scratched his head. “But I should probably go pick up my equipment now, I left it back at my place.” Aras nodded.

“Take the suit with you, you can put it on at your place. Then I’ve got a car ready that’ll take you over to the party.” As Aras handed Jacob the clothes bag his demeanor grew stern. He firmly placed the bag in Jacob’s hands and looked him in the eye.
“I put a lot of money into this. I’m taking a big risk with you, Jacob. You better not f**k this up.” He pushed Jacob back out into the open air, the sky now a rainbow of colors as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Jacob watched Aras grunt as he pulled down the door, muttering something about capitalist pigs under his breath. He quickly left the man and called a cab back home. The first waves of dusk were already washing across the sky like the paint strokes of a master artist. Jacob didn’t have much time.

It took a herculean effort to haul everything up the stairs to his apartment, but nevertheless Jacob was able to pull it off. Gently creaking the door open, he saw Tyrell asleep on the couch, playstation controller loosely gripped in his greasy fingers. On the tv 8-bit Mario stood idle as numerous bullet bills whizzed across the screen. He had probably been stuck on that platform for hours. Jacob could almost swear the video game character had an expression of pain on his face. But the fact that he was asleep worked well for Jacob. That way he could sneak in and out with no hassle.

Sneaking around the apartment was no small task for Jacob. The floor underneath the shag carpet sang like a canary when one stepped on it. Jacob felt like he was performing a violin solo with every rickety step. Fortunately his presumably hungover roommate was a heavy sleeper. At a snail’s pace he made his way to the apartment’s one bathroom and gently shut the door.

The bathroom was a mess, a wave of gaudy art deco tiling filled with damp gym shorts, moldy socks, and sweaty bras. Both Tyrell and his mother dumped their dirty clothes here and never seemed to take them out. Cigarette burns lined the walls and ceiling. A sagging shower curtain stretched across the room like a war-torn battle flag, the life long drained from a once cheery looking floral print. Jacob sighed. He’d offered to clean the bathroom himself but Tyrell declined, stating “it would mess up his system”. He kicked the pile of clothes to the side to make room for the clothes bag. Tyrell would yell at him later, but Jacob didn’t care. He needed his tuxedo as immaculate as possible.

Putting it on was a hassle. Jacob was so scared about ruining such a nice piece of clothing that it took him over two hours to put everything on. He stood on tiptoes trying to keep the bottoms of his trouser legs from brushing against the floor. Then he turned and looked in the mirror.

Jacob almost gasped. The image was muted behind the dirty mirror, but he looked like a genuine Hollywood actor. He knew it was silly, but he couldn’t help but puff out his chest and admire his body. The slick black tuxedo paired with an immaculate silk button down shirt reminded him of penguins, but he didn’t care. He’d never worn an outfit like this in his life. His hair could use some gel and a good brushing, but other than that he looked exactly like the version of himself he saw in his childhood dreams. He looked ready to star in a James Bond film.

Just as he was getting ready to leave something else fell out of the bag. Upon further inspection it appeared to be a black panther party mask, a cheap piece of plastic one might find at a basic party store. But it covered his face, Jacob realized, and it would fit right in at the nature themed gala. He assumed Aras had put it in there to help disguise his appearance. Sure, his face had been photoshopped onto the press pass Aras had given him. But this added a further layer to shield him from any prying eyes. He put it aside to put on later.

Looking and feeling dapper, he crept across the hall to his room. It was his sanctuary and the only clean place in the whole apartment. The small room was covered in posters of people Jacob admired, from famous actors to marvel superheroes. Some of the pictures were ones he took himself. The picture of a famous NFL player picking his nose during a game was a personal favorite. It was framed, of course, and hung right over his bed. He had spent several hours roasting inside a mascot costume to get close enough to take that picture.

Across the room, a framed photo of a bustling movie sat nestled on his wall. The director was perched on his chair like a proud lion, barking orders at his scrambling subjects. The scene was surreal, a model spaceship propped up next to a giant web of metal platforms and rigging broken up by a maze of hissing pipes. Up on the very top was the scene Jacob wanted so desperately: Two actors were frozen in epic battle, a young man in a white toga and a man in a black cloak and cracked ventilator mask revealing a face that seemed as if it had melted in lava. The blood red emblem seared onto the man’s cloak identified him as the movie’s villain, the secret identity of whom the production crew had tried to keep hidden from the public eye. But that didn’t stop Jacob, and once again he was paid handsomely for his efforts. It was well deserved, too. He had signed on as a janitor, and the whole cast came down with food poisoning after a botched catering incident.

One wall was devoted solely towards his current target. The photos and articles plastered haphazardly on the far wall had one prominent similarity: Lizzy Lourdes. She was slicker than a snake and liked to play puppeteer with the paparazzi. He had spent the better part of four months chasing down her rumored breakup with NFL Quarterback Kelvin Braun to little success. Despite his experience she had thwarted his every move, from changing arrival times and dates to planting fake evidence for him to “find”. Every time he pinpointed her location, he’d arrive only to find out she left minutes before his arrival. None of his disguises worked. No job could get him close enough to the actress to learn anything useful. She was like a shadow. His compatriots also had little success. But tonight would be different.

Aras rushed over to the metal cabinet where he stored his camera equipment. The white and red storage unit that appeared straight out of an office in the 1950’s was nestled right next to the handmade photo lab Jacob had assembled on his desk. The high tech microscope, editing suite, and miniature darkroom were where most of his money went, but the equipment was well worth the cost. This was where he’d prepare photos before sending them to Aras.
Opening the cabinet revealed a gadget display rivaling a James Bond film. Indeed, many of these worn, rusty items spoke of past glories of war and espionage, each with their own mysterious stories and secrets. Many of the camo-covered cameras and antiquated swiss-army lock-picking devices bore the secret police emblems of liquidated Soviet Bloc countries. How and when Aras got them, Jacob didn’t know. Many of these items were and are illegal for civilian use. However they were darn effective in Jacob’s line of work. As long as he wasn’t caught, Jacob didn’t care where the hell Aras got them from.

He pulled out a small box with a faded KGB insignia and deftly lifted the lid, exposing the contents. Inside were miniature cameras designed to look like contact lenses. Unlike their container these were a relatively new feature, one sourced directly from North Korea. Wearing these would allow Jacob to record the event in total secrecy, the feed running directly into one of the monitors that made up his editing suite. It would save him having to lug a bulky camera around in his shoe. Those always made him uncomfortable and felt like walking on rocks. He carefully walked over to his mirror and ever-so-gently applied them over his eyes before stepping back to admire his handiwork. His eyes appeared normal albeit an over-saturated blue-green color. But as a double-check on his monitor confirmed, video feed was being sent right back to home base. Jacob grinned before grabbing the next item from his cabinet.

It was a swiss army knife, but this was no ordinary cutting tool. Apart from the blade (which would be useful in a confrontation should it get to that point) there was a vast array of both analog lockpicks designed to get the wielder past any secure door in the world. It wasn’t perfect and was of little use against electronic locks, but could easily thwart anything from safes to prison cells. Jacob slipped the knife in his suit pocket, hiding an additional pick in his hair should the knife not make it past the gate. Crude, but it never hurt to be prepared.

He put the other items with the press pass Aras had given him and his main camera before diligently scanning the room to see if he forgot anything. Suit, Check. Press Pass, check. contact lens cameras, check. Panther mask… check?

Jacob sighed and picked up the mask, which had fallen to the floor. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the cheap faux-fur glued to the cold hard plastic. He’d look like a fool with this on, he wouldn’t show up to a 6-year-old’s Mardi-Gras themed birthday party wearing it. And yet… it did conceal his identity. He had the fake pass but there was always the possibility that someone could recognize him. It never hurts to be prepared, right?

With a groan, Jacob slipped the mask over his head, the string that held the mask together wrapping tightly around the back of his head. He didn’t want to imagine how stupid he looked especially paired with his tuxedo. Even worse, the mask slightly impaired his vision, and the dark corners would undoubtedly show up in his video feed. He’d have to edit it out later, which would be a hassle. But Aras had thrown it in the bag, and Jacob trusted the man’s choices. If Aras had put it in there must be a reason for it. Gathering his stuff, Jacob took a deep breath and crept out the door of his apartment.

Sure enough, there was a car waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, a shiny black Cadillac Escalade lingering impatiently in the handicap parking space despite having no placard present in the windshield. The vehicle was a stark contrast to the dirty and dilapidated cars surrounding it, paint so reflective Jacob was almost blinded. The engine hummed as if this place offended it and it wanted to escape this place as quickly as possible. The driver, an elderly man with a permanent scowl etched on his face seemed just as eager to leave. He gave Jacob a death glare as his eyes traced Jacob’s descent.

The back door was already open and Jacob stepped through the threshold and into another world. Jacob hadn’t realized a car could be this luxurious. Leather and suede graced every inch of the seats and doors, accentuated by wood trims and soft accent lighting to provide a contemporary yet palatial atmosphere. Jacob allowed himself to sink into the soft seats, a sigh of pleasure escaping his lips. The passenger section was completely cordoned off from the driver’s side save for a single window, allowing complete and total privacy once the scowling man shut his door. Without a word they took off, the driver apparently knowing exactly where to go.

For once Jacob wished there was traffic as they sped through the streets of L.A. He wanted to spend as much time in the car as possible. Yet for once he was disappointed. All too soon the car was turning off Sunset Boulevard and making its way up the final leg of the journey to Ms. Lourde’s house. The car strolled up winding tree lined lanes and lush landscaping powered by an army of hard-working sprinklers dousing the freshly cut lawns with a fresh misty spray. Exotic flower patterns created dazzling arrays around shimmering marble fountains gushing streams of crystal clear water into the chiseled mouths of stone cherubs. Jacob grumbled to himself even as he marveled at displays rivaling those of ancient Greek temples. According to local water conservation guidelines residents were allocated 55 gallons of water per day for any other water consuming activity. Jacob constantly found himself cutting showers short and leaving dirty dishes unwashed. Clearly drought regulations didn’t apply in paradise.

As the car arrived at its destination Jacob felt like he’d ascended Mount Olympus. Indeed, hidden behind a security gate and a wall of perfectly manicured hedges lay a mansion fit for the Gods. It was truly a palace, paying homage to the fantastical chateaus that one might find dotted around the French countryside. Before Jacob had time to marvel the SUV veered to the side, swerving into a narrow service entrance separate from the main driveway. It was here that the gardners and servants that tended to the house’s daily functions would arrive in uninspiring fashion, and it would be where Jacob would enter as well. It had been converted into a temporary press entrance although one could easily confuse it for an active war zone. Security personnel decked in full combat gear manned the gate while others prowled along the outside patrolling for any intruders. All of them wore battle-hardened expressions and bore enough weaponry to take down a tank. Jacob swallowed nervously, trying to keep his unsettled nerves at bay. Despite his experience, there was no way he would’ve gotten in without Aras’s help. He hoped his disguises were enough to get him through.

Once the driver opened the door Jacob set his feet down upon the cobblestone driveway with a huff. He gave a quick nod to the driver who left as suddenly as he appeared. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned towards the wall of security.

Apart from Jacob the station was devoid of life, and even from a hundred feet away Jacob could feel every eye locked on him. Waves of unease washed over him. This was complete overkill, he was the only one in line! He bent down as if he was adjusting his bowtie.

Okay. Deep breaths. You got this. Jacob took several slow breaths as he tried to keep positive thoughts in his mind. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as he suddenly became aware of every bead of sweat dripping down his face. With horror he discovered his tux was already starting to stain in certain areas, the realization only making him sweat more. The sinking knowledge of being watched set his nerves on fire and it took every ounce of willpower to cool the blaze. After double and triple checking to make sure he had everything with him, he finally felt confident enough to approach the gate.

It was just like going through airport security, if the airport was in a war-torn third-world nation run by a crackpot militant dictator. He had to give his name and ID to a guard with a chiseled jaw and aviator sunglasses. Then a guard covered in snake tattoos motioned him towards three more guards, where they waved him through a metal detector, the full-body kind one might find at an airport. Jacob thought of the lockpicking knife hidden in his jacket pocket. Fortunately it was made from a special military-grade plastic, and wouldn’t be picked up by the machine. The real problem was the heavily muscled guard marching his way towards Jacob, a man whose physique rivaled that of a prize-winning bull. It looked like a balloon pump had been inserted into his sleeveless arms and swelled them up to inhuman lengths. He had no less than 30 knives of various sizes and lengths strapped to his belt, and looked like the sort of man who’d wrestle elephants for fun. Jacob’s heart leapt up into his throat as the man towered over him.

“All right, I’m going to need ya to spread your arms and legs wide for me son.” His tone was quiet but carried the authority of a military general. Jacob immediately did as he was told, heart performing an all-percussion symphony in his throat. The man instantly began patting him down, and it wasn’t long before his meaty hands rested on the bulge where the army knife sat.

Jacob was sweating buckets. It wouldn’t take much for this guard to come over and, best case scenario, confiscate the tool. He hadn’t expected to be searched. But as the guard’s hand clasped his suit pocket Jacob was silently gauging the distance to the adjacent woods. No dice. He’d never make it there in time, let alone outrun this monster of a man. All he could do was curse himself in his head for not hiding it better.
To his surprise, however, the guard continued on, patting down his arms and legs. He almost didn’t hear when the guard flashed the all clear sign and waved him forwards. What the hell just happened?

As Jacob stumbled forwards he could’ve sworn he felt a rustling in his trouser pocket, but by the time he glanced around the buff guard had vanished. A bit dazed, he reached in, fingers grasping an index card that definitely wasn’t there before. What was it doing there? Making sure nobody was looking, he slowly pulled it out. On it were three simple words.

Good luck.
-Aras

Jacob smiled before tucking the card back into his pocket. His chest heaved a sigh of relief as he strode across the freshly cut lawn towards the main gala. Already he could hear the harmonious beat of steel drums in the background. But first he had to get there.

Entering a courtyard, Jacob found himself instantly transported to the Amazon rainforest. Smoke machines concealed by dense undergrowth blew a gentle mist reminiscent of morning fog across tiled footpaths. Four separate trails led deep into a maze of ornamental vines and leaves that offered dazzling displays of the jungle from the comfort of a well-lit pathway. These gardens were highlighted by banana and coconut trees placed in a pattern too geometric to be natural, breaking up a near perfect illusion. Several finely dressed guests in high spirits wove in and out of the maze like phantoms, no doubt as mesmerized as he was at the effort the party’s organizers put into this display. A warm breeze wrapped around his legs, threatening to pull him into the web of . He knew he could get lost admiring the beauty of the man-made jungle for days, but he had a job to do. So rather begrudgingly he trudged down the main thoroughfare which spiraled around the gardens to the main house.

The music steadily grew louder as Jacob followed a boisterous young couple down a path lit by mounted torches to the gala’s main hub. And under the proud eyes of two stone Jaguars Jacob crossed the threshold into a whole new world.

Despite his fruitful career as a freelance photographer, Jacob had never fully experienced the A-list events he covered. He hid in the shadows, the spotlight reserved for those whose names appeared in sparking lights in the city below. Most of the time he wasn’t allowed in at all, and when he was he was undercover as a plumber or janitor or some garbage service job. But he was standing here tonight in a tuxedo milling about with bureaucrats and A-list celebrities. He couldn’t ignore the welling within his heart.

He stepped into a scene reminiscent of a fairytale ball, the illusion near perfect. Before him lay a wide veranda dotted with tables and chairs draped in tasteful leopard print tablecloths, at which a smattering of grey-haired guests were leisurely sipping from crystal champagne flutes. They sat chatting amongst themselves with the occasional burst of laughter rising up from their tables. Waiters in white shirts flew in between the tables, keeping the endless rivers of cocktails flowing. A small number of guests gaily bustled up and down the two wide marble staircases leading from the deck to the wide expanse below, where faster paced revelry awaited the more ambitious.

The club deck downstairs was swarmed with joyous partygoers, and Jacob found himself cautiously making his way through the crowds. About a hundred or so of the more sprightly guests were raving on an imported dance floor. Jacob recognized the DJ from the cover of last month’s TIME magazine. Heck, he recognized a lot of faces despite the fact that many of the guests were wearing animal masks similar to his. Upon seeing this he breathed a sigh of relief. If he’d been the only one wearing one he’d have felt foolish.

As he walked around he resisted the urge to join in. Occasionally he’d see someone he knew from his childhood. That woman in the frock coat chattering with her husband was the star of a children’s cartoon he’d watched growing up. The man lounging leisurely by the fountain smoking a cigar had starred in one of his favorite westerns. Here, there was no mob of fans berating them, and no paparazzi hordes gathered like locusts. It was like an oasis in the desert, and Jacob suddenly understood why security had been so tight. It took every ounce of resolve he had to not immediately squeal with delight and race over with his camera. Instead he sighed, took a couple pictures, and moved on.

He was meandering aimlessly past a statue of Atlas holding up the Earth when he saw something that piqued his interest, the first of the night. By a pair of Roman columns three guests had strayed apart from the main party and were talking amongst themselves, their conversation hushed so as to be discreet. But it wasn’t that conversation that intrigued him. Two of the men, a stiff, gray-haired man and a plump fellow with flabby jowls wore the same grim expression and matching dark suits. Despite the champagne glasses in their hands, neither of them seemed to be enjoying the party much. Each of them looked like they’d rather be at wall street than a celebrity gala in Los Angeles. Judging by the gold watch on the gray-haired man’s arm and their ages, they were not bodyguards or service personnel. Jacob grinned, he had seen these types before.

Lawyers. They had to be. Jacob had dealt with celebrity lawyers many times before (mostly while getting sued by them). And if they were attending events as exclusive as this, then they had to be a part of someone’s personal entourage. And when someone brought their personal legal team with them, it was always a sign of trouble. Jacob almost licked his lips in anticipation. If he could find out who they were with, it would be a juicy enough story to report back to Aras.

Unfortunately, the third man offered little insight that could help Jacob in his quest. He looked important, no doubt, but his face was largely hidden by a magnificent lion mask which matched the color of his tuxedo. The mask’s detail and craftsmanship far outshone his mere party trinket, which led Jacob to assume the man held some level of importance. He was stout and a bit ungainly as he moved, so Jacob assumed he wasn’t an actor or athlete. He didn’t recognize the man’s physique at all. And when he’d spent over 15 years covering Hollywood’s movers and shakers, that was saying something. He frowned, ducking behind a hedge cut in the shape of a Grizzly bear. No doubt he was some fatcat, probably in the industry. But without names this was nothing more than a wild goose chase. All he could do was wait and hope an opportunity presented itself.

It was only a couple minutes but to Jacob it was an eternity. Finally the men shook hands and departed, in different directions to Jacob’s dismay. He decided to follow the man in the lion mask. He seemed to be the most important after all. And judging by the size of the mask, he didn’t want people to know he was here. Maybe he’d lead Jacob to a spicy headline.

To Jacob’s surprise, the man walked across the terrace and disappeared into the main house via a side door. Making sure nobody was looking, Jacob crept across the lawn to where he had entered. There was a sense of unease about this whole situation welling up in his gut, but his drive for adventure and promise of a payday urged him onward. Heart pounding in his chest, he crept the door open.

The door was surprisingly unlocked and opened quite easily, leading into a lavishly furnished bedroom. The king-size bed was unmade, silk comforters tossed around golden-laced ornamental pillows. Gucci dresses and Louis Vuitton purses lay scattered on the floor, evidence of recent use. Yet there was nobody in the room, as Lion mask had already left. Jacob knew he had to be fast but careful. This was evidently a private area of the house, and staff, security, or the room’s owner could find him at any moment. He couldn’t afford to make his presence known.

With one hand on the camera to keep it still, Jacob slunk through the bedroom and came out into a wide, well lit hallway. His toes tapped the hardwood like he was playing hopscotch as he made his way past framed paintings by Picasso and Rembrandt. Jacob couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, if not by the paintings themselves. Eyes of canvas gazed unceasingly upon the trespasser, and Jacob couldn’t shake the unrest rising in his chest. His legs felt jittery as he pressed on.

It wasn’t long before the hallway opened up into a cascading foyer bounded by roman columns and wide staircases that crescended in a domed ceiling covered in mosaic tile. Checkered marble floors spread out across the room to the dozen gold statues placed around the room’s circumference. From the main gallery Jacob could see countless paths going up and about in a dozen different directions. It looked like the entrance to a museum or cathedral rather than a private residence. Jacob couldn’t help but marvel, jaw glued to the floor. He’d only seen such opulence on television or perhaps in fairytales. Certainly this house was a dream come true for any Cinderella. Jacob wished he could live here forever.

His quarry forgotten, Jacob began exploring the labyrinthine chambers, his envy growing as well as his wonderment. At first, he tried to justify his deviation from the plan. Each closed door could be his next front page. And Jacob knew several rather weird people who would pay good money for shots of her bathrooms. After all, Jacob had to pay HIS rent too. But it wasn’t long before he found himself wandering rather aimlessly throughout the candle-lit halls, curiosity having overpowered his sense of duty.

But as he trod along the endless maze of hallways, resentment began to burn away his initial awe. Who the hell needed two media rooms? A private massage parlor and salon? A diamond-encrusted chandelier in each room? Each double-wide glass door he opened only seemed to reveal the expensive afterthoughts of one who had more money than they knew what to do with. Every couple of doors the halls would open up into a courtyard or terrace filled with exotic flowers and marble fountains, encircled by the stone and stucco facade of the mansion. The house was more like a monastery or cathedral than a residence. And it was suspiciously devoid of people.

Where the hell was security? Were they all at the party? Jacob felt his sense of unease rising as he crept along unhindered by confrontation. Surely there would be security in such a large house. Yet Jacob saw no cameras hiding in the Venetian columns, no mechanical red flashes breaking up the mansion’s historic elegance. And it creeped him out, making him proceed extra cautiously. If he were caught, it would be hard for him to bluff his way out.

Slowly Jacob crept into the biggest room of the house so far, which was saying quite a lot. It resembled the great hall of a medieval castle, cedar and stucco pillars cascading into arching ceilings several stories above. The double-high French windows allowed but the smallest slivers of light in, giving the room an eerie abandoned appearance. Gargantuan tapestries portraying history’s greatest battles hung proudly far above his head, the regal figures of King Arthur, Charlemagne, Genghis Khan, and Julius Caesar observing Jacob’s unwanted entrance. The imposing nature of the room made Jacob feel like he was nothing more than an ant to be stepped on, and if that was the designer’s intent, then it was definitely working. He felt so vulnerable in the middle of the room. He didn’t belong here. He needed to get out. He needed-

“Jacob?” Jacob had been so transfixed on the room he had somehow failed to notice the clip-clopping of high heels coming up behind him. As such he nearly lept out of his skin when heard the voice almost breathing down the back of his neck. He whipped around to find perhaps the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen standing but a few feet away.

Much like the house around him, the woman gave the impression she belonged on Mount Olympus rather than the mortal realm. Her figure could be a Michelangelo masterpiece, a perfect hourglass enshrined in a black silk dress that complemented the luxurious raven hair that ran down to her upper back. Her cherry-red smile added a mysterious flavor to her demure gaze as she strutted over with the poise and grace of a ballerina. Two diamonds that cost more than the GDP of several third world nations hung from her ears and bounced as she walked. Jacob was paralyzed as she laid a dainty gloved finger on his chin.

“You’re Jacob, right? I do hope I didn’t mix the names up.” With a start Jacob recognized the voice. A jack-of-all-trades that could alter itself to play any age, nationality, occupation, or role deemed fit. It was sweet like sugar and yet poisonous like Cobra venom. Smooth as silk with a mysterious flavor that drew both audiences and critics into any character she played. It was what made Lizzy Lourdes famous. And it was just as intimidating up close. All he could do was weakly nod. She flashed a charming but apologetic smile.

“Thank goodness! I do hope you forgive me. Remembering names is awfully hard. And I’ve got an awful lot to remember.” She chuckled and motioned Jacob over to a massive mahogany table in the room’s center, which Jacob hadn’t noticed was lathered in steaming turkeys, lobster, Boar, and a cornucopia filled with fresh fruits and veggies. It was a feast fit for Camelot. He wanted to run but Jacob was like a helpless puppet as the actress led him to a seat at the foot of the table. An elderly well-dressed butler, the only service staff Jacob had seen all night, quietly pulled the chair back for him and he reluctantly sat down, hoping they didn’t notice how much he was freaking out inside. If they did, however, they didn’t notice.

The actress was all smiles as she took a seat at the head of the table. Despite being on opposite ends she felt mere inches away, like a creeping lioness waiting for the right time to strike. Jacob found himself frozen stiff, unable to either move or form words as his mind raced at the equivalent of a formula one driver.

Something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. That much Jacob knew. Despite every measure, every preparation made, every cautious step taken, he had somehow been found out. She had not referred to him by the name on his tag, but by his real name. They had known he was coming all along.

His fight or flight instinct was kicking in, Jacob knew he had to do something. His arms twitched with anticipation even as his butt remained glued to his seat. The actress looked so vulnerable sitting in the massive room by herself. There were no guards stationed around the giant cedar doors at each end of the room. They had even been so naive as to place a full cutlery set in front of him, complete with several knives that could easily be used to defend himself. Escape looked deceptively easy. And yet, Jacob had a sickening feeling that any attempt at making a break for freedom would be utterly pointless. No doubt she had hidden security measures if he were to make a sudden move or break for the exit. All he could do was twirl his golden fork around his plate and wait for her to explain herself. However, he swore to himself he wouldn’t go down without a fight. If she tried to pull anything, it won’t come easy.

However, she seemed to have no such intent as she motioned for him to eat with her fork.

“It’s ok,” she reassured, her lips pulled back into a gentle smile, “you can eat. I know you must be hungry.” Jacob cast a suspicious eye on the smorgasbord laid out in front of him. Turkeys, hams, assorted pastries, and enough fruits to fill up a jungle, looking fresh out of a Martha Stewart episode. The sort of food he would dream about as he nibbled on soggy microwave dinners back home. The sight was enough to break his silence.

“What the hell? What’s all this for?” He asked more rudely than he would have liked. He was finding it hard to control the rush of emotions flowing over him. The longer he sat here the more vulnerable he felt. Unfortunately, he would have to wait even longer as she finished chewing on a spoonful of caviar. She moved with a surprising sense of calm that only put Jacob further on edge. After what felt like an eternity she finally spoke.

“You’ve been chasing me for the last few months. I thought your efforts should be rewarded.” She was surprisingly nonchalant as she spoke, taking a sip of wine from a golden goblet. Jacob noticed a similar goblet on his end of the table filled with shimmering red liquid. Fingers shaking, he raised his own cup to his lips, absent-mindedly following the actress’s own movements for fear of being impolite. The wine rushed down his throat, the refreshing cocktail of rich flavors sending his mind on a tour of the Italian countryside. If expensive was a flavor, this was probably it. As Jacob washed it around in his mouth, lucidity began to return to him.

“What? Who, me? What’re you talking about?” Jacob scratched his head, confused. Why would someone famous as her notice him? She chuckled, her laugh like a Disney princesses.

“Throughout my career I’ve been chased by hordes of fanatical worshippers, press, and paparazzi like yourself. Although by far you’ve been the… most ambitious.” At this the butler slipped several pictures onto the table in front of Jacob. Most of them depicted Jacob in various disguises and locales, camera in tow. Hiding in a manicured hedge, sweeping the floors at a film studio, crouching on the catwalk in a concert venue. A particularly unflattering photo showed Jacob’s sweaty face hunched up in the trunk of a car. Jacob winced when he saw it, he nearly died in there after being stranded for over 3 hours. But as he surveyed the photos, his heart quickly sank. Had he been caught all these times without knowing it?

The last picture was fairly simple, a cover for a tabloid magazine dated five months ago. In big bold letters the headline read: “LOURDES TO DIVORCE HUSBAND IN LAWSUIT OF THE CENTURY, $355 MILLION DOLLAR EMPIRE AT STAKE.” Jacob’s heart pounded in his chest, the butterflies refusing to fly away.

“I assume you remember that particular issue?” Ms. Lourdes pried, her mood soured. She didn’t give Jacob time to answer before continuing. “ At the time we were fighting but still married. I still loved him despite his flaws. He wasn’t the man the media made him out to be. Then thanks to you it all came crashing down.” She wiped a single tear that had begun to roll down her delicate cheek. Jacob wanted to crawl into a hole.

“When he saw this article, he became enraged, for we were trying to keep our relationship woes a secret.”

“I had nothing to do with that!” Jacob cried out, finding himself leaping up out of his seat as he did so. His voice echoed throughout the chamber, the volume of the echoes returning to his ears startling even himself. “I- I didn’t write those articles! I just turned in some rumors I heard, that’s it! The p-photos I got were garbage!” His hands clenched the table, stiff with anger. He’d regarded the wedding rumors as one of his biggest failures. It wasn’t his fault Aras embellished his story.

“ You got enough.“ Ms. Lourdes’s voice was quiet yet shut him up in an instant. “ After that, our relationship fell apart. We couldn’t trust each other after that. I lost millions and someone I loved dearly to those “rumors” of yours. I’ve had my eye on you ever since.”

“You think you have a right to be angry?!” Jacob was full-on shouting now, causing a look of surprise to wash over the woman’s face. Bitter resentment that had been building up for years began boiling up and over, and he found himself unable to stop it. He pounded the table with a fist, causing the table and its contents to shudder violently. “You’ve never had a reason to be angry! I don’t care how much you lost, you live in a literal palace while I skip meals each day to pay rent on a crumbling dump on skid row.” He lifted up the magazine, fingers trembling as he pointed at the title page.

“ Do you know how much that got me?” He demanded, not bothering to wait for an answer. “That precious life-ruining headline of yours? That barely covered the bills for a month. Blood, sweat, and tears went into studying every aspect of your life and I barely break even. But you’re upset because your boyfriend broke up with you? News flash, I’ve been rejected far more times than your insufferable a$$. You try finding romance when you’re a loser loner creep with a camera.”

The last part left him unintentionally, but it was true. His heart pounded in his head as a wave of heat washed over his body. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins or just nerves, but his body felt unnaturally tense, muscles rigid to the point of cramping. And his tailbone ached. But the woman was silent, regarding him with curious eyes. She seemed to ponder his words, her only movement another delicate sip of wine. Jacob sighed, absentmindedly scratching the nape of his neck as his resistance faded. There was still malice in his voice, but it had lost its fervor. He knew there was no point in running.

“ All my life I idolized people like you, and longed for the day I could make my debut on the big screen. I wanted to see my name in lights, see millions of people liking pictures of my breakfast on instagram. I had a dream, and I moved here to fulfill that dream. That dream kept me going through countless hours of work, study, and dead-end jobs I worked for taxi money just to go to auditions. And you know what?” He looked towards her, the actress silent. He scratched the itch on his neck as his voice began to rise. “It got me nowhere! Nothing I did mattered because I wasn’t born with a beautiful body like yours. God didn’t bestow me with the l voice or talent to make it in your world. I never stood a chance, and I trashed my whole life because I was too dense to accept reality.” Jacob stood like a statue, realizing he was holding back tears. He couldn’t cry. Not now. He was enough of a joke already.

“I wouldn’t say you have no talent.” Jacob was surprised at the actress’s first words in a while. She sat there so demurely when Jacob looked at her he wondered if he’d just imagined her speaking. But evidently he had not.

“I’d say breaking into this house requires a set level of talent, as well as constantly making my life a living hell. You just simply don’t recognize them.”

“ That’s just hard work.” Jacob huffed. “ Anyone can sit in a bush for 8 hours. Not everyone’s born with the body of Venus and the voice of a siren.” To his surprise Ms. Lourdes laughed.

“ I sure couldn’t.” she chuckled, a smile that almost appeared genuine flushed across her face. But there was a mischievous look in her eye that set Jacob on edge. And with a woman like her, Jacob knew you could never take her expression at face value. “I just think you’re going at it the wrong way. Like a bird that thinks it’s a fish. Or a cat that thinks he’s a human.”

Jacob lifted a finger to ask what she meant when suddenly a searing pain ripped through his body, exploding through his muscles and setting his nerves on fire. He let out an audible gasp as he hunched over, his tailbone aching like a battering ram was pounding at it over and over. Neither kidney stones nor numerous bowel disorders compared to the sensations assaulting his rear. It was as if there was a rabid animal locked inside trying to claw its way out. He winced, hands balling into fists as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Ergh, … excuse me for a moment…” he managed to choke out, his voice cracking as his lungs began to burn. He began to feel lightheaded, and realized he had no idea if he was sitting down or not. Then the world disappeared as darkness enveloped him.

His first thought upon regaining consciousness was that he’d died and was face to face with an angel. But as his vision began to clear and the stars ceased their merry dance around the corners of his vision, he realized it was not the face of an angel but a close second. He was gazing into the starry eyes of Lizzy Lourdes.

She had a concerned expression etched on her face, and while her lips moved no words penetrated the constant ringing in his ears. His imagination was happy to fill in the blanks for him.

“Oh you sexy sexy man, I am drunk on your scent, the allure of your chiseled jaw and sculpted pecs is one I cannot escape. Superman pales in comparison to both your strength and beauty. I dream of nothing more being swept away by your manly arms and squeezed and touched and fu-”

“Jacob? Jacob? Are you all right?” Jacob was forcibly wrenched back to Lucidity, shaking his head to clear the last twinges of fog clouding his mind. His face twisted in both embarrassment and disgust as he realized what he was doing before snapping towards the woman kneeling in front of him.

“Ugh, w-what happened?” He moaned as he scratched his head. He felt like his brain had been bulldozed by a freight train. He also was itching like crazy, which felt odd.

“ I was worried we gave you too much.” Ms. Lourdes said matter-of-factly. “But you didn’t drink the whole glass, so you should be fine.” Jacob was speechless as his mind whirred and clicked, his aching head scrambling to connect the dots.

“What the hell? Did you try to poison me? What did you give me?!” His voice filled with alarm as everything suddenly made way too much sense. Her inviting him in, the lack of security, the need to meet him in person. But she only laughed as she lifted the panther mask off his head, tossing it to the side.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I’m making all your dreams come true.” Jacob scuttled out of her reach before plopping down on his aching tailbone.

“Yee-owch!” He cried as he shot up like an arrow, rubbing the seat of his pants. Right above his rear his slacks bulged from the tender lump of flesh that had caused his distress. He felt over it with his hands, his face rife with shock and disbelief. It was as if his spine no longer stopped at his hips.

“What the hell is- Yee-owch!” As his fingers once again stroked against the tender spots of his elongating spine it began to twitch and lengthen, the actress watching with delight as the fabric on his pants stretched further and further. Jacob let out a cry as he realized this, but failing to realize his fingers stimulated the growth he only caressed it further, both out of curiosity and a vain attempt to push the growing appendage back into his body. It was only when his twitching ears finally heard the ripping of fabric that he relented and undid his belt, allowing the appendage to wave about with increasing flexibility. Ms. Lourdes could see miniscule ebony-colored hairs starting to crawl out from the base along the fleshy protuberance. She smirked. If everything went well, it would be the start of a luxurious pitch-black pelt enviable of Hollywood’s finest designers.

Jacob was freaking out meanwhile, turning about in circles as he tried to get a good glimpse of the new limb snaking its way out from his rump, eagerly following his motions with a childlike enthusiasm. His panicked cries echoed throughout the chamber as he danced about the room screaming at the top of his lungs. He was so focused on his behind that he failed to notice that his ears had shifted as well, rounding out and gaining just as much flexibility as the extremity lodged to his backside. They twitched and rotated like satellite dishes, ardently collecting the rebounding echoes of his cries from every direction. His nose began to blacken, skin growing rough and leathery. Yet structurally it remained human for now. The actress took great delight in these changes as they steadily progressed. And Jacob’s frantic reactions to each one only added to the entertainment.

“AAAGH What’s happening to meeereeow?!” Jacob cried out. He clutched his lengthening tail in his arms like a deceased friend as if mourning the impending loss of his humanity. “What did you do to meeeee?”

“Like I said, this is everything you’ve ever wanted.” Ms. Lourdes stated as if she was explaining 2 + 2 = 4 to a preschooler. Jacob shot her a look that would make the devil tremble. This somehow undeterred the woman as she gracefully strutted around him.
“Don’t you see?” she purred as she approached the shifting man, “ You yearn for a lifestyle of wealth and pleasure, for fame and fortune, a body that’s admired by all who see it. And as a beautiful panther and my personal pet, every dream of yours would be fulfilled.” She gently tussled her fingers through his hair, watching his locks detach from his scalp in clumps. It delighted her to see the changes in action. Unfortunately Jacob didn’t seem to agree.

“You’re turning me into some kind of cat?” Jacob’s voice cracked as he screamed. “What kind of mad scientist bullcrap is that? I..I…” he whipped around, his eyes tracing tufts of black fur slowly crawling up his legs. He snarled, his voice sounding less than human. “I don’t know what you gave me, but this… can’t … be… possible…” he gasped for breath as he hunched over, the physical toll of the transformation etched on his face. “ I.. must.. be … hallucinating…”

Even he doubted those words as he brought up his shaking hand, noticing his palms growing callous and leathery amongst increasingly inhuman fingers. New neurons connected in his brain, allowing him to feel firsthand the sensations of clothes brushing against fur. He had to use every ounce of willpower to resist shredding the increasingly uncomfortable tuxedo draped around his convulsing form.

Just when he felt like he was going to pass out again, the sensations suddenly crashed into a screeching halt, washing his body in a wave of relief. He fell onto his hands and knees, panting heavily. He felt like he was in an oven, his muscles still straining with every movement. He lifted his head to find Ms. Lourdes towering above his head, a disappointed expression stretched across her face. She gently laid a hand on the top of his head, forcing him towards the floor.

“Hmm, doesn’t look like you drank enough to complete the transformation. We’ll have to give you another dose.” Jacob suddenly shot up like a missile, batting her hand away with his arm.

“No!” He growled, instinctively baring his teeth and assuming a defensive posture. Every muscle in his body tensed with anticipation as adrenaline surged through his veins. This woman was threatening him, and the new instincts surging into his mind had put his body on autopilot. His hands flexed instinctively, preparing for claws that had not yet emerged from his fingertips. “I will not be the guinea pig for whatever sick experiments you pleasure yourself with! If I go down rest assured I’m taking some of you down with me!”

“That’s perfectly fine.” The actress’s words caught Jacob off guard. She didn’t appear fazed at all by Jacob’s comments, and it was really starting to piss him off. She was like a quick-change artist with her facial expressions. He could never really tell what she was thinking.

“If you do not wish to complete the transformation then I have no other choice.” Jacob glanced around the room in a panic, expecting a hidden panel containing missiles or poison gas or flying monkeys to open up out of the wall. “I’ll have to simply let you go.”

“W-whaaaaa?” Jacob tilted his head, “Are you fricking serious? You’ll just let me go?”

“Oh, of course.” the actress smiled, taking another sip of wine. “You’ll become famous but as a scientific freak rather than a beautiful animal. Never to live his life in peace, but as a tool of scientific observation for the rest of his days. Scorned by the media and a public yet to comprehend the fruits of genetic manipulation. After all, people fear what they don’t understand. But that’s if you don’t get dissected by the military first.” Jacob swallowed a lump in his throat as the ramifications began to play with the darkest fears of his mind. He imagined himself locked away in a cold dark laboratory, being cut open by robotic faced scientists with machinery that makes the dentist’s office look like a meadow filled with flowers. The way he looked now, he could never fully return to society. The only person who’d appreciate him more would be Tyrell, and judging from the furry sites he’d seen passing by on his computer that wasn’t a good thing. Ms Lourdes smirked, watching his indecision rise.

“Or…” she said, snapping Jacob back to reality. “You can guzzle down the rest of the cup and fully embrace the form you were meant to have. You will be beautiful, loved, and experience the c...