When life gives you Swiss cheese

Magic Hollow Spook-tacular 
current form, roughly the size of a thumb from nose to tail tip

She didn't know what this was, exactly.

Maybe she was a shifter now? A very, very small one. Life was hard enough as a human in a monster's world, but now she was... a very tiny monster.

One thing was certain here: Cris felt very naked, and very hungry, two completely separate feelings that both clouded the mind behind her tiny ears.

The banquet hall was alive with sound and disaster, and food was on the opposite side of the hall. Her little heart pattered madly, nose twitching, whiskers bouncing ever so slightly.

Cris would get her face in some fucking giant food if her life depended on it.

Bursting into a mad sprint, she charged across the hall, feet clambering against the smooth floor.

A very small but very human voice carried with her charge.

"Move move move, watch out, move!"


Sol had had plans, okay. She was going to go out looking good AF and meet someone and do things and (not) get drunk. But no. Just as she had sat down on the bar and about to take a sip of a fancy-ass-looking cocktail, her grip on the glass had loosened. It shattered across the ground as the bar stool collapsed suddenly beneath her weight.

Her arm got cut by the glass. When she glanced down at it, she realised it wasn't her arm. But it was? It, like, moved when her brain told it to.


She scrambled to push herself up, and then quickly learned that standing on two legs was a lot harder than it used to be. Sol fell to the ground again.

Were shifts always like this?

She got herself up again — on four legs, this time. Her flanks heaved quickly as she panted. She looked to and fro before realising that there were stripes on her flanks.

Jaguars don't have stripes!


Was she not a jaguar anymore? How the fuck was she a tiger? Did she do something??

Then her eyes fell upon a mouse scurrying across the ground. She was supposed to eat it, right? Sol really didn't want to because, er, ew it was a mouse. And it was talking.

"H-hey!" she called after it. Trotting after the tiny rodent felt really awkward.

She must have been the clumsiest jaguar.

Now she was the clumsiest tiger. Oh, my God.

She could feel its approach. This was different than the uncoordinated footsteps all around her.

These were thundering plods, a focused effort, and Cris knew what this was.

A chase.

Tiny limbs propelled her forward as fast as they could, but the agonizing reality was that this monster behind her could catch up if it wanted to.

With one option left, she whirled around to-

A tiger. A fucking tiger. She was so fucked. Rearing onto her back legs, paws up in little half fists, she took one hop.

Toward it.

"Hey! Back the fuck up!"

Given the freakiness of everythong that was happening, a mouse trying to size her up didn't seem to wild. Maybe a little cartoonish.

Sol came to a halt and stared at it with wide, round eyes.

"Oh, my God, just chill," she said, "are you a person or a legit mouse?"

If it was the latter, then damn. Evolution works wonders.

Its face was so cute. Its- hers. It was female.

Every puff of breath felt like it could knock her off her feet if targeted just right. Her heart raced fast enough that it might have been vibrating. She took a few sniffs of the feline menace.

It was hard to chill when every footstep near you could crunch you into a guts pancake. This tiger was so unfathomably large that she had to tilt her chin to the fucking ceiling to get a good look.

The words were comforting in that... maybe she wasn't entirely alone.

"Person," she said. Then, without more than a second's pause:

"Let me on your back."

Now a pause.



That was good, but didn't make her any less confused about the situation.

A command was quick to follow. Her head tilted a little. Then a small "please."

She wanted to ask why. But then she didn't want to ask why. Asking too many questions sort of felt like a bad thing. And she was not ready for an overload of information.

"Er — 'kay."

This was so weird but maybe a distraction like giving a fist-fighting mouse ride would help somehow.


She slid down to her light belly.

Sol was not drunk enough for this. That much was certain.

Cris hadn't expected that to work, honestly. The tiger was no smaller lying down, and she felt a flicker of fear, wondering if getting close enough to climb on was a mistake.


In fleet footed hops, she approached, starting at a shoulder and scrabbling up into fur that threatened to swallow her up. Little paws and toes clung, rushing up, feeling as though she was leaving the world a thousand feet below.

"Oh my God," she remarked in a squeak to the sheer size of the tiger and the sheer depth to which she sunk into her coat.

"Do you know where the food is? I can't see shit."

She poked up onto her back legs, then immediately ducked back in as some animal screeched somewhere in the banquet hall.

Where was safer than hiding in the hair of a tiger?

The guys on her fur made her itchy and want to scratch at where the mouse climbed, but she refrained. Because scratching the mouse would probably kill it and she didn’t want that on her conscience.

Once she was on her back, Sol stood up. A screech caused her ear to twitch.

"Uh, yeah," she said when her eyes fell upon a long table of Halloween-decorated food. She padded over in its direction. People screamed at her.

"Name’s Sol, by the way."

She was slowly becoming convinced that this was legitimately what happened during shifts, just in a more public setting. And. Not a jaguar (what the fuck was up with that?). Was everyone just pretending and telling her she was a jaguar when she was actually a tiger just to help her feel included??

Cris felt almost offended by the screams, having in a very short time grown to trust this particular woman turned into a giant beast. She glared with tiny specks of eyes, daring someone to fucking pull something.

"Cris," she said. "I think I got turned into a shifter or something. Is that what you are?"

Some... people here... weren't animals, though.

What the fuck was any of this.

She waited eagerly for the table to be within reach, tiny paws working idly into the tiger's fur in eagerness.

"Yeah," Sol said.

She was starting to feel a little bit better about it: she was a wild animal and totally keeping her chill and not attacking anyone. She must really have this were-thing down.

Upon approaching the table of food, Sol turned to be parallel with it so that Cris could hop off. Her pink nostrils flared as she drew in the scents.

She should have been worried.

But mostly, she was hungry. Cris pawed at her whiskers a few times in quick succession, eyes on food much larger than her own body.

"Thanks for the ride. And not eating me. This is all pretty fucked, huh."

Two little pats to the tiger's back, pat pat, with clingy front paws.

Then she was off in a wild dash, making to throw her tiny body onto a cupcake and tackle it over.

"Totally." Like, 100% fucked.

She wanted a phone, but tigers couldn't use phones. It looked like she was just going to have to ride out the shift and then... forget everything?

Cris' pats made her tail curl a little. The tail felt like having a weird and weak fifth leg.

The mouse scurried away to the cupcakes and Sol trotted off toward the sandwiches. Her mouth was big enough to eat three at a time and that was pretty great.

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