My cat Urus - 8

Brad woke up Saturday morning with a sense of dread already sitting in his chest.

His body felt different again, warm, soft, unnaturally light.

He didn’t need to look to know.

He sat up slowly, the blanket slipping off his chest, revealing the obvious.

Breasts.

Again.

He groaned. “Seriously?”

“Good morning, Subject Brad,” Urus announced gleefully, appearing from the corner in a swirl of light. “Day one of observational immersion begins now.”

Brad rubbed his eyes, voice already annoyed. “We made a deal. I help you. You don’t turn the weekend into a fashion show.”

Urus smiled, an expression Brad was starting to hate. “I need to study daily activity, behavior, environmental interaction... under feminine conditions. You are the only vessel available.”

“Feminine conditions?”

The spirit floated toward the closet. “We’ll begin with clothing selection. I took the liberty of ordering items with your parents’ approval. They believe you’re trying ‘something new’.”

Brad froze. “Wait. What did you,..?”

The closet opened.

And horror awaited.

Crop tops. Skirts. Leggings. Soft pastels and frilly patterns. Sandals with straps and fuzzy slippers shaped like animals. All new. All... feminine.

“You didn’t.”

“You will wear them. For science.”

It started with the outfit.

A white tank top with delicate straps, clinging a little too tightly to his chest. A pale pink skirt that ended far too high above the knees. His legs looked... smooth. Urus had somehow altered even that.

Brad stood in front of the mirror, arms crossed, glaring at his reflection.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered.

“Correct.”

Then came walking practice. Brad had to walk around the backyard in the sandals while Urus floated beside him, taking mental notes.

“Your center of balance has shifted. Hips sway more naturally. Fascinating.”

Brad nearly tripped on a root. “I swear if a neighbor sees me.."

“They won’t. I clouded local perception. They’ll assume you’re a visiting cousin.”

“Of course you did.”

Next was housework.

Brad found himself vacuuming in a tied-up shirt and bike shorts, then baking cookies, because Urus wanted to observe “domestic femininity rituals.”

Then he had to eat one while Urus stared like it was a live experiment.

“You realize this is humiliating, right?”

“Yes. But you are an effective subject.”

By afternoon, it got worse.

Urus had Brad try on half the outfits from the closet. One was a sundress. Another was a two-piece summer look with a halter top.

“You’re showing so much skin!” Brad hissed.

“And humans are highly reactive to visual input. It’s essential data.”

Brad pulled down the skirt’s hem for the tenth time and glared. “What exactly are you trying to learn?”

Urus blinked. “How it feels.”

Brad froze.

Urus hovered closer, more serious for a moment. “To be soft. To be looked at. To carry attention on the surface of your skin. You are teaching me things I could never simulate.”

Brad swallowed hard. His cheeks were red, from heat, from shame, from something else he didn’t want to name.

He looked away. “Fine. Just... no photos.”

“Of course.” A pause. “That you can see.”

“Urus.”

“Kidding.”

Brad didn’t laugh.

By nightfall, Brad collapsed on his bed in a light pajama top and soft shorts, because of course Urus wanted to test sleepwear aesthetics too. His entire body felt tired, awkward, vulnerable.

And strangely... alive.

Urus watched him from the desk, quiet now.

“You did well today.”

Brad glared from the pillow. “I looked like a walking Barbie.”

“You walked like one too.”

Brad threw a pillow.

Urus dodged.