Prompt of the Week - Week 89

TAGS: Mavor Is A Dumby Who Forgot To Post This Last Week, Transformation/TF, Yeen/Gigglefren, Size Difference

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He managed three steps into the gym before he was promptly greeted by someone so much taller than he was that he almost lost appetite for being there in the first place. Almost, because right afterwards he was being led by the hand to the interior of the gym itself, hearing someone next to him giggle like an idiot as they introduced themselves to someone too overwhelmed to pay attention.

Richard had been putting off getting some exercise for months at that point, enough so that even the dreaded New Year’s Resolution wasn’t enough to get him off his ass and into some sporting gear so he could run at least half a mile every other week. It took his physician personally telling him he should cut back on his weight for the serval to make arrangements, and even then he postponed them as much as he could, finding whatever excuses were necessary to justify doing so.

The dreaded day arrived, and with it, the understanding that he wasn’t going to get out of it nearly as easily as he would’ve liked. With his car parked outside and absolutely no plans to speak of that could save him, the feline had nothing to do but cross that threshold and finally get some exercise done, even if it cost him everything he had, up to and including his pride. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew he was out of shape; not fat by any means, but definitely pudgy, and not the sort one would see at an establishment like that one. Maybe, he thought to himself, people would be so hostile to his presence there that he’d have to leave; at least then it wouldn’t be his fault.

To say that the exact opposite happened would be an understatement, as the very first thing he saw after paying for his membership and entering the gym proper was a massive, far-too-quick figure sprinting towards him, ending up mere inches away as it loomed over him, saying a whole bunch of things that Richard was far too confused to understand properly. As far as he could tell, this was a greeting, though with so much energy packed into it that whoever was responsible for it tripped over their own words and had to start over multiple times before giving up and just physically pulling him over to the nearest weight bench.

Lacking a frame of reference for this, and having been expecting a much less effusive welcome, all the serval could do was go along with it, at least until he had time to sit down and look at whoever had just abducted him. Contrary to what he expected, he didn’t look up at a lumbering behemoth, a beast of musculature and roid rage that could snap him like a twig; instead, sitting on a different bench directly in front of him, carrying the widest, brightest smile imaginable, was a hyena, no older than twenty-five.

She looked entirely out of place in Richard’s mental image of what a gym would be like, and it wouldn’t be until much later, after he became acquainted with the atmosphere, that he came to realise how out of place she was at an actual gym as well. Judging from the equipment she wore, he could only guess that she was an employee there: the logo was the same, the colours matched, and surely no random customer would think to introduce themselves in such a manner. Granted, paid employees wouldn’t either, but at least they had an excuse to throw themselves at the new meat.

Still, she was a sight to behold. Even sitting down, the yeen stood a couple of feet higher than Richard did, forcing him to crane his neck up just to look at what was, by all appearances, a perpetually smiling face. Throughout the entire conversation, the serval could swear he didn’t see the trainer’s eyes once; they were always closed, always adding to the overall picture of wanton friendliness that came with the constant grin and the slightly tilted head.

And the words as well. They took a while to sink in, but once he started paying attention to what was being said, it was hard for him not to start blushing, if only because of sheer embarrassment. He had to ask for the hyena’s name about ten times before she apologised and gave it to him, and even then it was immediately buried by yet more encouragement, provided free of charge and absent any reason, as it became clear just what the hyena’s role there: to get him pumped.

At least, that’s how Richard chose to see it, as all the other options were too much for him to handle at that point. He didn’t understand why someone who’d never spoken to him before, who’d never even seen him, would be so eager to sit down and tell him about how much they believed in him, how much they knew they could accomplish whatever goal they set towards; experience with someone that open with strangers was something he lacked entirely, and even for an employee of the gym, the hyena was far too forward when it came to dealing with the clientele.

Then again, he was still sitting there, still listening to her going on about how much he could do if he only set his mind to it, leaning in closer and loser, making it very clear that, despite her physique being more of a runner’s one, she could likely snap him in two just as easily as a meathead musclebound giant could. But she wouldn’t, because that wasn’t the kind of person she was; Richard didn’t know how he knew that, but the yeen’s very presence radiated a sense of warmth that reminded him of a long-lost friend, finally returned.

He felt as if he knew her, even if he knew he didn’t; just being around her was enough to make him want to get on a treadmill and run for several miles, if for no other reason than because he didn’t want to disappoint someone who so clearly believed in him. It felt downright insulting for him to do so, especially after his new self-appointed trainer spent so much time giving him a pep talk that he just then realised he sorely needed; no, he had to do it, for himself, for her, and for his future waistline.

Now, this was significantly easier said than done. No amount of encouragement would make his past exercise habits (or lack thereof) any different than they had been, and despite his best efforts, Richard was still carrying around several years’ worth of self-neglect that had to be burned off before he could even think about getting anywhere. Yet, despite this, the hyena still stood beside him, still smiling, still keeping her head tilted, still wagging her tail frantically from side to side, still telling him how well he was doing and how he should start pushing whenever he felt comfortable.

It was an ethereal presence. At once, it felt very real, in that he could feel her presence next to him, her warmth, her mass, her belief, her outright love for the job and those it dealt with; at once, it felt like a dream, especially as no one else in the gym seemed to be reacting to the ten foot tall hyena amazon who was practically shouting herself hoarse keeping him excited for the next hundred yards of his frantic dash, almost dancing around the treadmill as she pushed him along, giggling to herself all the while.

It was infectious, in its own odd way. Richard knew the last thing he should be doing was giggle back, given how much effort he was putting into just being able to breathe at all, but much like a laugh was contagious once it got going, it was hard to listen to the sheer, unfettered enthusiasm coming from the yeen and not want to mirror it. The serval felt his mouth break open into a grin of his own, before the first giggles came out, followed by a chuckle and then a series of continuous cackles, horribly off-key and definitely off-rhythm with the yeen’s encouragements.

But the personal trainer didn’t mind. Why should she, when it was a sign that her charge had gotten into the groove and was enjoying himself? That’s as far as Richard himself got before his brain closed off that avenue of thought; trying to figure out someone’s motivations was something to be done for when he wasn’t spending every last ounce of energy keeping his legs moving. Though, not as much as he thought it’d need; either he was lighter than he assumed, or the serval’s feline anatomy had finally paid off in his favour, seeing as he wasn’t nearly as tired as he believed he would be.

After all, he wasn’t fit; hell, he was the very opposite of it, being one quite fond of a sedentary lifestyle where he didn’t have to do anything other than sit around all day filing paperwork so he could go home and sit around filing fun paperwork. To be on a treadmill reminded him of those horrible few weeks when the city’s subway network was under extensive renovations, forcing him to walk everywhere and very nearly leading to a heart attack the first day the cat threw himself at the crowds and barely survived.

But there, on the treadmill, he felt at home, almost like it wasn’t the first time he’d been on one in his entire life. Every motion came naturally, engraved into his muscle memory, flowing as water into one another, made faster and more efficient by the careful attention of the world’s most enthusiastic hyena; it was almost as if, through her sheer presence, she turned him into an entirely different person… or, perhaps, awoke one that had always been there, waiting for an opportunity to emerge and take its rightful place as the one true Richard.

It was easy not to notice the first changes, subtle as they were. Engrossed in both his exercise and the seemingly endless praise coming from the yeen beside him, the serval found that his improved resilience was simply expected; he didn’t see how his belly was trimmed down, how years of accumulated pudge melted away in but instants, leaving him looking just like he had when fresh out of college and his terrible, noddle-based eating habits. He didn’t notice how he was so much lighter, how his body was far more adapted to physical strain, nor how his legs had begun to reshape themselves into those of a runner.

He missed the more obvious ones as well, such as his fur patterns being altered to better match those of his personal trainer; the hyena was entirely conventional in that regard, being a mottled collection of browns in a variety of shades, while Richard himself fared far brighter with his yellows and light beiges. But as his fur darkened, as it grew ever so slightly coarse, as his ears grew more rounded and flatter, everything just felt so natural that the serval didn’t think to question why he suddenly felt so hot, nor why his clothes had grown tighter around him.

Surely, if he was exercising, he should be getting thinner, not fatter; it didn’t occur to him that he might be growing in another manner entirely, though, to be fair to him, it didn’t occur to him to care at all. The notion of his sporting gear becoming one size too short was nothing if not entirely meaningless, a waste of time to dedicate mental resources to, compared to the far more important task of carrying on with his exercise, of living up to his patroness’ expectations. It was more about that than anything else at that point: he had to keep going, just to keep her from being disappointed.

Never mind how the yeen herself occasionally remarked that if he wanted to take a rest, he could; never mind how she said she was “so proud” of him every other minute. It was an instinctual desire on Richard’s part to push himself to the limit, that he may show the hyena still smiling at him that her trust in him was not misplaced, that he would reach for the sky, that he would break through his limits and become something more… unbeknownst to him, in far more ways than just metaphorical.

For his body had grown about as flexible in its form as his mind had, reshaped by the yeen’s actions mixing together with the sudden spurt of energy and self-confidence on the serval’s part; though, perhaps serval was no longer the correct identifier, given how Richard’s features had become hybridised, taking elements from his old species and a new, increasingly more identifiable one the longer his exercise went on.

Turning into a hyena himself was not something that Richard expected would happen once he started exercising, but he couldn’t complain; if anything, he was far closer to his exercise goals in his new state than he ever would have been had he remained in his old feline form. It should’ve been alarming, all things considered: him transforming into a different species altogether, especially once that mirrored her of all people, should have been enough to set off every internal alarm he had.

But it didn’t, and he was hardly a he anymore, not with how his chest and nethers were being rearranged. Nothing too much; he couldn’t exactly sport a massive rack if he wanted to have an athletic sprinter’s physique, he had to keep it modest! Big enough to still crack spines, sure, but that was mostly on account of her growing taller in addition to slimmer; couldn’t just stand around being a tiny little pipsqueak, not when they were around her, she had to be better! She had to be more! Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, after all, and if there was anyone in that gym who deserved all the flattery in the world, it was her personal trainer.

Thus, it made perfect sense that she should try and imitate them in the closest way possible; if this meant that her body had to be resculpted to become much like them, then this was just the way of things, and not at all anything she had to worry about. After all, the yeen had nothing but her best interests in mind; they even went so far as to outright point out that the transformation was happening, and though the urgency in their voice was nothing like it should be, they did suggest maybe taking it slower.

The newest hyena, however, was having none of it; in fact, she went so far as to redouble her efforts to break through personal highs… which wasn’t exactly that difficult, given that any records she had were only established a few moments prior, courtesy of her body becoming the way that it was. Still, this hardly mattered; what was important was that she keep going, she keep pushing, she keep throwing herself into her new body, her new rhythm, her new pace. What was important was remaking herself into a greater form, that she might face the world from a fresh perspective; quite literally so, given the difference in height between her old self and the new one.

And in the middle of all of that, the yeen still stood beside her, always looking down from above, always looming above her, always smiling, always with their head tilted. No matter how much the treadmill groaned, complaining audibly of the weight being placed on it, it seemed like the personal trained was always slightly bigger: always the two extra feet or so, leaving them so enormous after a certain point that they had to apologise after accidentally ripping a chunk off the ceiling when their head bumped into it.

Yet, none in the gym reacted to this; one would imagine that a sudden dual growth spurt would’ve attracted some degree of attention, but instead, the best that the newest hyena saw were a couple of people glancing in her general direction, shrugging, then carrying on with their own routines as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening… and even in her altered state, the former serval could tell that this was bizarre, to say the absolute least.

But it was good. It was good, and she knew that it was good, she knew that her newest friend and companion had nothing but the best of intentions, nothing but her own well-being in mind. If that weren’t the case, they wouldn’t be constantly trying to get them to stop, as they’d “done enough” already and shout “get a good rest”, among other comments which left the new yeen feeling as hot in the face as she was everywhere else. In a way, she felt unworthy of all the care and attention; she was just some random person who walked into the gym that day, anyone could’ve been in her position… and yet, the amazon trying to gently pull her off the treadmill still acted like their bond was one built on more than just happenstance, as if it was meant to happen.

Maybe they were just feeling extra friendly that day. Maybe they knew how much their new friend needed someone to be there for them and encourage them throughout the process. Maybe there was no reason to it; the yeen just really liked being helpful, and everyone she chose to assist received this treatment. Whatever the case, it was clear by then that whatever attachment the serval might’ve had to her old life was now little more than dust in the wind; if she was intending to return to the sedentary rhythm, to the sitting around desks and doing nothing but signing documents, then she was going to need some serious readjustments. But she didn’t care; she knew she’d have help.

They’d be there for her. Still smiling.