Caged and Cougared

“Hey… Travis? You… still in there?”

A large, half-paw gripped the fence — fingers twitching, misshapen, barely human. His breath came fast and shallow, each exhale a little deeper, a little rougher. His clothes clung awkwardly to his frame — shirt stretched, shorts nearly forgotten. His necklace still pressed against his chest, nestled in golden fur that crept up his body in soft, insistent waves. His cap perched crookedly between twitching ears that now swiveled at every sound. Every movement. Every voice. His eyes — still partially his, for now — locked onto the man outside of the enclosure.

Travis opened his mouth to speak, to beg, but the shape of his muzzle fought him. Words cracked and splintered against sharp teeth and a thickening tongue.

“P-pleh… pl-pleashh…” he choked out, jaw twitching as his lips failed to form the rest. “D-d… d-dunn… leee… mmrrroww…”

The words slurred, collapsing into raw, helpless mewls. His hips cracked, spine arching into a deep feline slope as his thick tail thudded against the floor. The man on the other side watched, wide-eyed but silent.

“T-they said there was nothing else they could do,” the man murmured, eyes not meeting his. “You… you’re not changing back. Th-this is for the best. This way you’ll be watched— a-and safe. I’ll visit. I… I promise. Goodbye, Travis.”

The large cat stared silently at the man— its resigned expression lost behind tawny fur. The last flicker of humanity in his eyes faded. He tried to hold onto the sound of his name, repeating it in his head, clinging to each fragile syllable.

Trr… vis… Truhhh… fff…

But the shape of the word slipped away.

Slowly, he lowered himself to the floor with a heavy breath, one paw pressed lazily against the fence. After a moment, the cougar looked up — not in recognition, but in vague, quiet curiosity. A low purr started in his throat.

Both stood in silence.

The cougar blinked once… then padded deeper into the enclosure without looking back.