Leonard woke up from his short nap, which in a rapidly deteriorating reality might have been called a cat nap. He had only been asleep for a short while, but it felt like hours.
What had stirred him from his rest was a soft furry object rubbing against his back. It felt wonderful. He made a soft pleased moan.
Then, all of the sudden, a pair of gigantic arms slide under him, cradling him, lifting him up. He opened his eyes and found his view obstructed by something he was being pressed against. Then, after a few moments of movement, he and the giant stopped, and he could get a clear view of things.
He looked around. It looked like his room, but it was enormous. Sitting in his chair, holding him, was an anthropromorphic housecat, grey with black stripes, dressed in a pair of slacks and what looked like one of his sci-fi t-shirts.
"Hello, Leonard," the cat said, grinning wickedly at him. "Tables have turned, haven't they?"
"What?" He said, uncomprehending.
"Oh, you don't remember me now? The cat you used to try and test the Buttered Cat Paradox?"
Leonard flashed back. The buttered cat paradox asks what would happen if one attached a piece of buttered toast to the back of a cat, then dropped the cat. Cats are supposed to always land on their feet, and buttered toast is always supposed to land butter side down. One incredibly silly Saturday afternoon, after very little sleep and a lot of online RPG gaming, he'd tried to test this theory. "Ummm...but...but..." he stumbled.
"Well, this world is under new management," the cat boy said. "And your new place in it pretty much to eat, sleep, and poop. I'm going to treat you extremely well though, knowing every minute that you've gone from King of the Hill to well, bottom of the heap."
"What? I don't understand what's happening. How can you..." he trailed off as the cat began to rub his tummy. It felt exceptionally good, and he started to zone out, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
