Josh too drunk with two Regret's

CREEEAK.

Josh froze mid-step, beer halfway to his mouth.

'Another step. Out in the hallway.'

His fingers tightened around the can. Breath shallow. Chest sore.

Then—

Josh "MRAAOW!" A blur of sodden tabby launched into the room.

Josh "HOLY SH—!" He staggered backward as his ancient, crusty cat collided with him like a wet, screaming sack of soup.

Josh "Chester! You bloody demon!" The cat hit him square in the chest.

CLAW—SQUISH—YOWL.

Josh "AAARGH! MY TITS!" Lord Chester, older than some small gods, dug in like he was claiming territory.

Josh swore, panicking, gently unhooked the prickly bastard and set him down, trying not to bleed or cry.

'The cat landed, soggy and wheezing, glaring up with that classic “What the fuck are you wearing” look.'

Josh collapsed onto the couch, cradling his sore chest.

Josh "You’re lucky you’re Gran’s cat, you furry menace."

Chester responded with a loud, scratchy purr, like sandpaper grinding through a radiator.

Josh "…You came home." He exhaled. The room smelled like mildew, wet fur, and instant regret.

'Peeling wallpaper. Empty cans on the table. A chipped mug full of something moulding near the telly.'

'Chester smelled worse.'

'His fur was matted, soaked, brittle like burnt wire. He looked half-cooked.'

Josh hauled himself up, legs wobbly, and limped to the kitchen, past a pile of laundry that hadn’t moved since Tuesday.

He came back with:

– A fresh warm can of lager (Stella, obviously),

– An old towel with a hole the size of Wales,

– And a bag of questionable cat treats from the back of the cupboard.

He knelt down, towel-drying the tabby while muttering through his teeth:

Josh "You’re gonna outlive me, ain’t you, you grizzled little bastard."

Chester tolerated it. Barely.

Josh dropped the towel. Dumped a few treats. Then collapsed back to the floor.

'The old cat curled into a loaf on the stained rug like he owned the dump.'

Josh’s eyes drifted from Chester…

…to the book on the coffee table.

Then back to Chester.

Josh "…Maybe." He muttered, already drunk enough to ignore the voice in his head screaming bad idea.

He snatched the quill. Scribbled without hesitation:

Josh "I wish Lord Chester were young again. Healthy. Bright-eyed. Full of life."

The ink vanished.

Chester sneezed once.

Then stood.

Back arched.

Fur fluffed out like a freshly blown dandelion.

Spine straight. Eyes gleaming.

A full transformation.

Josh "You’ve gotta be kidding me." He blinked.

Chester bolted across the room.

Straight to the drawer.

Tapped it.

Claws clicked.

Josh "…You little genius." He squinted.

He opened the drawer.

Laser pointer.

Still worked.

CLICK.

Red dot hit the floor.

Chester’s pupils went full goblin mode.

Then: absolute chaos.

'Sofa. Wall. Bookcase. Under the table. Through the curtain. Off the telly stand.'

Josh cackled like an idiot, tits bouncing every time he doubled over.

Josh "You haven’t moved like this since I was eight, you little lunatic!"

'Ten minutes of mayhem later, Josh collapsed on the rug, half-sobbing with laughter, covered in fur, sweat, and confusion.'

Then, slurring through a half-laugh:

Josh "Right. I want a pizza delivered to my house."

Ink gone.

DING DONG.

Josh "…Huh?" He blinked. Beer haze thick now. One sock missing. No shirt. Tits still jiggling from the laughter.

He stumbled to the door and yanked it open.

'There stood a pizza guy.

Tall. Hoodie. Hat half sideways. Eyes bloodshot.

He held an 18-inch box. Two bottles of Coke.'

Pizza Guy "Uh… This… 47A?"

Josh "Yeah?" He squinted.

The guy’s eyes dropped. Paused. Stared.

Pizza Guy "…Mate."

Josh looked down.

'Breasts.'

Josh "Oh—bloody HELL." He tried to cover them with one arm. Just made it worse.

Pizza Guy "You’re a guy, right?" His brow slowly climbing.

Josh "Yup." Red-faced.

Pizza Guy "…Those real?"

Josh "Unfortunately."

'Long pause.'

Then that slow, sleazy smirk.

Pizza Guy "…I’ll knock a tenner off if I can have a go."

Josh stared.

Josh "…What."

Pizza Guy "You know." He nodded toward his chest. "Let me have a squeeze, pizza’s almost free."

Josh looked at the box.

'Pineapple. Jalapeños.

Steam rising.'

Inside, Chester meowed — tired, victorious.

Josh rubbed his face.

Josh "…Why is this my life."