For Peter, life had been exhausting these past few months. Not that it was school or work to blame, no. He had decided that, for the new year, he'd work on building up a bit of muscle onto his lanky body, and had spent early January touring local gyms and sports centres, trying to find an activity to take part in that'd improve his fitness. Eventually, he had hooked himself up with a kickboxing class. After spectating the various disciplines his town had to offer, he seemed attracted to this one the most. A good workout for the whole body, but especially the legs. As someone who enjoyed walking and running, that would be perfect! And all that kicking and fighting would be perfect for relieving the stresses of all that life threw at him.
Peter had joined the class with other like-minded folk who were planning on starting the year the right way with some good old fashioned fitness. Their coach already had a few more experienced kickboxing students, and they and the coach were happy to advise the newcomers to the class as they started out. Starting with simple excercises to develop their agility, they moved on to simple, short kicks, then advancing to more involved manoeuvres. The teacher even leased them suitable garments to wear while kickboxing, providing comfort and safety as they practiced their kicks, eventually leading up to the chance to practice against each other, instead of just striking targets and punching bags. Such exertion was went through, yet Peter felt it was worth it, feeling exhiliration through such physical excercise.
A few months had passed since Peter first took up kickboxing lessons. He was currently attending them every Thursday in the early evening, but our story begins on Monday. That was then, just minutes before he was about to walk to school, the postman arrived, noticable earlier than normal, and seemingly in a bit of a rush, knocking on the door rapidly. Peter unlocked and opened the door to let the flustered man deliver what he had.
"Ah, you're... Peter, right? I have a package from you. Special delivery from a Mr. Lee."
"Oh, I know him! He's my kickboxing instructor!", replied Peter, perkily.
"Ah yes. He posted this package and letter yesterday. Made a note on it that he wanted it delivered as soon as possible, and I can't really refuse anyone's wishes as a postman. So, here you go", nodded the postman, handing over a large box and envelope.
"Thanks, mate. Although I really should be getting outta here, school bus leaves soon. I guess I can read the letter while I'm travelling, though. Thanks!"
"No problem! Have a great day!", saluted the postman, beaming and waving as he took his leave.
The journey to school was filled with excitement as Peter opened the envelope and looked upon the note that his instructor had sent him.
Thank you very much for coming to my kickboxing classes. I have to say, out of all of my new intake this year, I've really taken a shine to you. You seem to be enjoying kickboxing the most out of my students, and your performances have been incredible. You've really advanced, and I have a feeling you want to try kickboxing more often. Therefore, I've sent you a package that should come in useful. I've sent you a few targets and inflatable punching bags... well, we still call them punching bags even when you kick them. This way, you can get your kickboxing practice fix every day, whenever you feel like it. Although, I do worry you may over-exert yourself. That's why I've also packed a few bottles of energy drink. Take a swig before and after you practice, and you should feel energised enough to practice longer, and avoid exhaustion. I even packed a CD with some of the music we play here at the gym. All in all, I hope you get good use out of my package, and I look forward to seeing you again very soon.
Mr. Lee, Kickboxing Instructor
Peter was grinning from ear to ear, overjoyed with the recognition that he was receiving. Best kickboxer in the new intake? Deserving of a gift? He'd certainly have to open the parcel once he got home. Such anticipation drove Peter as he worked his way through the school day, eager to get back and open the package. By the time he returned home after hours of school work and bus travel, he was literally bounding his way through the house, grabbing the package, jumping back onto the sofa and scrabbling at the parcel, rushing himself as he opened it. Sure enough, there within the torn up paper, was a stack of polystyrene panels, a pile of inflatable punching bags, and a bunch of bottles containing a pale green liquid. Presumably, this was the energy drink that Lee had mentioned, although the bottles he sent had no labels. What else could it be, though! Peter had built up a good amount of trust in his tutor, such was the quality of his classes, and he felt that such a man wouldn't send anything dangerous in the mail. He'd only want the best from his student, of course.
Thankfully, there wasn't anyone staying over in the downstairs guest room this week. After getting the go ahead and some help from the parents, Peter had pushed the bed out of the way, making a good amount of space for some kickboxing practice. Nothing like what was available at the gym, but enough space to lay a few polystyrene panels about, stringing them from empty coat racks. He also fetched his pump and inflated the punching bags, which rose from the ground, gaining rigidity as they filled with compressed air. His surroundings were looking more familiar and pleasing, and he was almost ready to start practicing. But as he went to the fridge to pick up some drink, his mind came across an observation: Lee didn't send him any kickboxing clothes. But did he need them anyway? It wasn't as if he was facing human opposition that could injure him, or smash his glasses with a mis-aimed kick. Pondering a little, he grabbed a bottle from the fridge and took a swig of the energy drink within. Peter screwed his eyes as he imbibed; that tasted very odd! Not sweet like he would have expected from an energy drink, but more of a herbal taste. It must have been a more natural creation than the usual chemically enhanced creations you'd usually find at retail. But despite the unusual flavour, Peter found himself wanting to take another gulp, give it another chance... actually, it wasn't so bad once he was used to it. And he could definitely feel something in his body. An urge to start practicing arose as he felt natural energy swelling within him. He proceeded to the guest room, his temporary gym, and stretched his muscles, ready to start his workout.
He recalled the evolution of the classes and his skills, and worked on following a similar pattern for this home session. Start small and simple, then move on to moves requiring more expertise. A few kicks in mid-air, before sweeping his leg to break through a few of the panels placed on the floor. He was really getting into the swing of things, but he was starting to feel a bit of an itch about him. He presumed it was probably because he wasn't wearing the proper kickboxing gear, and continued to fight through it, but it just seemed to get worse, and the urge to rub at the irritation overcame him. His torso was easier to get at, but if he wanted to rub his legs he'd have to take his jeans off. As he reached down to unbuckle his belt, he hesitated as he touched it... it didn't feel thick, or leathery... not like a belt at all. Slightly panicked, Peter looked down at his waist, viewing his belt... or, rather, something else encircling his jeans: a long yellow string keeping his pants in place, tied into an ornate butterfly knot where the buckle should have been. He let out an audible "huh?", feeling sure he had put on a belt this morning, definite that he had never owned whatever it was he was untying. At least now he could scratch his legs, breathing a sigh of relief. Feeling happier, Peter donned his jeans again, some subconcious guiding him as he tied the string into the same complex knot, and focused on resuming his kickboxing practice.
He felt a bit more happier and eager now, that moment of relief bringing up some sort of exhiliration, or endorphins, a bit of drive and determination to excel. To kick higher, stretch those legs out longer. To further his combat prowess greatly. He could feel it within him, a feeling of strength, his arms and legs toning, muscle building up. He felt more comfortable all around, too. No more itching, more at home in his clothing. What he didn't notice was the fur slowly growing out on his torso and legs, nor did he spot the changes happening to his clothes; his jeans shifting colour from deep blue to dark green, the material losing its denim stiffness, nor his shirt starting to shrink, revealing green, gold and white fur, growing out from his skin. These changes occured while Peter remained unaware, too engrossed in kicking at targets and punch-bags to see his pants shrink away into green shorts lined with red, but certainly appreciative of the comfort he was feeling... until suddenly he felt a surge of great discomfort in his crotch, as if some invisible force had kicked right back at him. Peter wheezed, feeling winded and strained, convinced he had perhaps overexerted himself and needed to take a brief break. Peter picked himself up, panting, feeling drawn to take another swig of that refreshing green drink, having no idea of the true reason he felt that sharp pain: a sudden inversion of gender that had altered his anatomy to a more female form, the force pushing into his privates altering his... or now, her frame to a more hourglass figure in return, and forcing out a green and black tail from her rear. Still feeling winded, Peter didn't notice anything off about him/herself, dazed enough to be oblivious to her t-shirt reduce to a short, sleeveless, black and red tank top, tightly cupping her new figure. But clutching the bottle and swigging away brought some welcome relief.
As she drank, she noticed something in the corner of her eye... the CD that Mr. Lee had provided! Why hadn't Peter remembered that? Her kickboxing session had been a bit problematic but having that CD would be a great improvement. And good thing there was a stereo in the guest room! She bounced happily back to her makeshift gym, disc in hand, tail secretly swaying behind her, flexing her defined legs as she made her way to the stereo, inserted the disc and pushed play with gusto!
This was more like it! The music definitely had an oriental feel to it, and a fantastic rhythm that Peter could time their kicks and boxes to. Now he could definitely get into a fantastic flow, fighting fit, crushing targets and booting bags, excercising those arms and legs as the green fur flowed down them. The sparky taste of the energy drink lingered in her mouth, as the fur grew out over her face, coating her head as it morphed. Her eyes widened, becoming bright lime green, as a short muzzle grew, teeth within sharpening, ears extending behind her, gaining a soft, velvety white and gold lining within. She felt so keen, so overjoyed with her kickboxing success! Her kicks were getting more and more rapid, Peter lashing out with flurries of kicks. So happy, so pleased with every strike, with every kick...
Peter had kicked so hard, she had sent a punching bag slamming into the far wall, bursting it.
Suddenly Peter clasped her hands around her mouth, hearing her changed voice.
Everything felt so weird... The fur on her face, the shape of her muzzle... the sensations of wearing alien clothing were rushing through her... the realisation that she was female now too. She took time to feel around, observe what she was wearing. The tank top fitting around her new figure, her shorts... she glanced at her hands, now paws, clad in black fingerless gloves with angular gold and white details, then looked down at her feet, seeing high boots cladding them, thick green footwear with solid black toecaps, tongues rising up halfway up to her knees, fitting her strong legs well. No wonder she kicked the bag so hard wearing those, she wondered, reaching down and feeling the footwear. This was all too overwhelming...
Peter, if she could still be called that, wandered to the window, looking at her faint reflection, seeing what she had become. Too engrossed in kickboxing to notice, she had shifted into a female wildcat, looking very smart indeed in those clothes, but... why? How? And how could she leave the room looking like this, without any means to explain the presence of a green anthropomorphic feline? Close to crying, Peter's thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"No! Don't come in!", cried the cat, cowering in the corner.
"Heh... I recognise that voice...", said whoever was on the other side.
"Wait... and I recognise that voice! Mr. Lee? Is that... is that you?"
"Sure is, Peter. Mind if I come in? I can tell you're a bit confused, I can explain everything."
"Of course I am, not just about why I'm a cat, but how you got in here!"
"Oh, I can explain that too", responded Lee, as the feline opened the door. "See, that sports drink I gave you... that's why you've changed. I came across it on a trip to China some time ago. Whoever was selling it was recommending it to kickboxers, both experienced and in training. I sampled a bit, and discovered its potent effects, quite surprising, too..."
"Well how come you're still human?"
"I was feline, if only temporarily. As for you... how much did you drink?"
"At least half a bottle", replied Peter.
"Hmm... I guess you'll spend more time than me in this form, Peter... hmm... actually, that doesn't really fit you. What name do you think suits you?"
"Erm... Carol?", said the feline, uttering the first thing that came to mind.
"Carol?", repeated Lee. "Heh, that's the name I was drawn to... and, if I recall you may start feeling some... urges. Knowledge. Kickboxing yes, but... you may start getting the desire to be a real fighter. Something of a tomboy rebel. And... you might even feel like you know how to ride a motorbike... and do some rather ridiculous things with it!"
"Motorbike? But I can't... can I?"
"I don't know if you'll stay like this long enough to get an ID and take driving tests. Maybe if you drank enough you can stay like this for a good while. It's all up to you I guess. I suppose the hard part is convincing everyone not to be afraid of you. Wildcats walking on two feet aren't normal. I've already told your parents, and they took a bit of convincing."
"Heh, I think I can take on the world like this", said Carol perkily, her new personality already showing. "Look out world, here comes Carol!" Lee sighed a little as the wildcat pounced out of the room. Maybe the world wasn't that ready for somebody like Carol...