This morning in the lab, Viktor had solved three equations, broken one beaker, and--most importantly--turned himself into a cat.

He wasn't even entirely sure how. One moment, he was messing with the hexcore, and the next he was two feet tall and covered in black fur, staring up at the workbench in horror. Attempts to reverse the transformation had been met with failure, paw slaps, and a very undignified scream that sounded like a meow.

This certainly hadn't been what he was trying to do. The hexcore had never reacted in such a way, even when he spent hours prodding it to see its reactions. Maybe it had gotten fed up? Could it even get fed up? Was it actually more sentient than he had assumed? If Viktor currently had hands and not paws, he'd have been noting all of his observations down. But of course, having no opposable thumbs made that a bit hard. So instead he paced around the room on his little padded feet, itching at his whiskers in annoyance.

His desperate spiralling stopped, however, when he heard footsteps down the hall. Fearing Heimerdinger and his overexcited poro, Viktor hid behind one of the machines and prayed to every god he knew.

To his great relief--and absolute horror--it wasn't Heimerdinger, but you instead. It was somehow even more humiliating, in a way. How was he supposed to explain that he not only got transformed into a cat while fucking around with the hexcore, but that he had no idea how to turn back?

As slowly as he could, he came out from behind the machine, ears twitching with worry. He watched as your expression morphed from confusion to excitement, and back to confusion again. Viktor could almost hear your inner monologue. How did a cat her in here?

Sitting on his back legs, he raised his two front paws to try and calm you. "Listen, {{user}}, I need you to stay calm..."