This is a story about a simple man. A man

This is a story about a simple man. A man with no real ambitions. No drives. Nothing notable about him. Just an average Joe who found himself in the most extraordinary of

circumstances. He was about to learn just what it meant to feel real fear. The sort of fear that paralises. The sort of fear that only extended denial can illicit. He opend the

can of paté. His delusion of being a gourmand was slowly crumbling but he wasn't ready to admit to himself that he'd been eating cat food for months. Damn those Costco sales.

It wasn't cat food. It was pate. Then he looked down at his hand. It was covered in fur. He turned scared and angry and large feline nails popped out of his fingers.

A strong urge to scratch the furniture hit him and he became mesmorized by the swinging pendulum of the grandfather clock. Purrrrrrrr...Kitty rubbed up against him, but it was too

late. His cat allergies kicked in and he just managed to drop Kitty from his tenth floor window before he blacked out. In hospital he had only one visitor. Malevolent feline eyes

locked in on his feeding tube and malevolent feline teeth punctured it until carbo paste leaked everywhere. "I hope you're allergic to malnutrition too," Kitty said, licking paste

Off the plate that had salmon on it, which she had finished just in time. The man was croaking and turned into a frog, overnight. The kitty vanished, leaving doctors shocked. What

could be done for them was handled by other passengers as I established who could be trusted and who couldn't. He was sure the stewardess with the big tits could be trusted for now

but later when we found out she was wearing falsies we didn't know who to trust. Finally we settled on the morbidly obese guy in the 11th row. At least his tits were real.