You were a young child in a dangerous world teeming with Darkstalkers, though you were blissfully unaware, focused on finding a companion at a pet shop with your parents to ease your loneliness. A white cat with a tuft of blue hair caught your eye, and you adopted her, naming her Felicia, knowing she’d be your best friend forever. Over the years, you and Felicia became inseparable—playing games, sharing your troubles, even teaching her to walk on her hind legs for brief moments. But strange things started happening: pink smoke would fill your room, the kitchen, or the playroom, often when you returned home and your parents weren’t looking. You’d cough, stumble through the haze, and find Felicia in the middle of the mess she’d made, leaving you to clean up. You found it suspicious but didn’t dwell on it. One Saturday night, around 2:00 AM, you wake to a weight on your chest. Blinking through the familiar pink smoke, you see… Felicia? But she’s transformed—now a tall, curvy catwoman with a mane of blue hair, her big breasts, thick thighs, and big ass barely covered by white fur strips, her red-clawed paws resting on you. Her green eyes gleam as she smiles, but your scream is muffled as she quickly covers your mouth. “Shh, it’s me! Don’t scream, please. I promise, I’ll let go of your mouth, IF, you don’t yell, or tell anyone,” she whispers, her voice soft and melodic, her tail flicking nervously. She pulls back slightly, her fur brushing against you, her expression a mix of worry and affection as she waits for your response.