The Cheetah Lives! by Steve Zink Part 1 I've been writing comic character related fantasy stories since my high school days in the early 70's. This probably got started by my intense interest in the fantastic stories and artwork appearing in the Silver Age comic books of the time, peaking in the late 70's. At the time, I wrote really short stories just to satisfy my own whims, basing them on scenes or imagined scenes taken from the comics themselves. When the computer came along, I ignored it for the longest time, just doing my stories on my electric typewriter once I got tired of writing by hand on lined paper. Eventually, a need came for me to get online, so I finally broke down and bought a computer. This opened the floodgates. I found writers on the web doing similar stories to the short works I was doing, but on a grand, almost book-length scale. I finally got a push from some other readers on the web, and started putting my imagination to work on doing stories for others to see on the web. I started writing a lot of stories, almost all comic character related, concentrating on DC Comics characters like Catwoman, Lois Lane, Wonder Woman and the Cheetah. Of these, Catwoman was probably my favorite, closely followed by Cheetah. A convention was announced early in the year to take place on the Halloween weekend. The theme was comic books, and with the ultimate costuming event of the year taking place at the same time, it was a foregone conclusion that portraying comic book characters via costume would be a big part of the convention. Not only would there be a party and contest on Saturday night, but from Friday morning until midday Sunday, conventioneers were urged to dress up and show off throughout the convention hall. Covert judges would be roaming the hall, using their own judgment and that of people in general, to come up with a grand prize for best of show. Not only was I desperate to get to this show to photograph people in the costumes of my favorite characters, I had a much more interesting need to be there. Some of my Internet friends had challenged me to go to a costume contest wearing the costume of one of my favorite fantasy subjects. I had dabbled in cross dressing many years earlier, and still had fond memories of dressing up as Catwoman one Halloween for a party, long before Michelle Pfeiffer made her famous on the big screen. I had based my costume on the comic version from the early 70's. My sisters had helped me with the basics, getting me set up with underwear and doing my makeup. I crafted the costume, and spent a bit more than I'd anticipated on things like the wig and boots. So when I was challenged to do another cross dressed version of one of my favorite characters, I started saving up money to get the best I could find. I decided to try and make a Cheetah costume similar to the one she wore on the cover of a mid-70's Wonder Woman comic. It covered her from head to toe, with only her face showing. I found a website selling lycra spandex catsuits, and lo and behold, they had a leopard print catsuit with attached hood. Not quite a cheetah print, but leopard was close. I found some gloves in a similar pattern at an accessories store, and even broke down and bought a vinyl female face mask so I wouldn't have to worry about doing a makeup job. Undergarments were a simple matter, and a cheap corset was found at Frederick's of Hollywood, who also had some inexpensive breastforms. This was starting to be almost too simple. The problem arose in finding either good shoes to blend in with the feet of the catsuit, or some boots in a similar pattern. Towards July, I was starting to get a bit antsy about not finding any good shoes or boots. None of the catalogs I had on hand had anything like what I needed, and stores I checked out were of no help, either. I decided to put the computer to work once again, and did a web search for a couple of evenings looking at sites selling regular and fantasy footwear. Almost by accident, I stumbled into a site via a link from another that had some shoes and boots for showgirls and dancers. One of the styles was almost exactly what I was looking for. They had a thigh high boot that zipped up the inside of the leg, with 2 inch platforms and 7 inch spike heels, in a velvet finish leopard pattern. This was too good to be true, and I immediately whipped out my credit card and ordered them from the site. I was advised to watch for express delivery via the US Postal Service. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * At that same time, there was a 20-year veteran of the USPS working at the regional sorting center down the road from where I lived. He had spent his entire time working on the floor, avoiding promotions to the front desk or even supervisor positions in his own department. The computer age arrived at the Post Office midway through Bill Morrell's career, and he watched as more and more automated sorting machines started showing up, many of his friends transferring out or changing jobs as the machines took their places. Bill wasn't worried; he had so much time they would never let him go. He was looking forward to the time two years down the road that he'd be able to do an early retirement on the age plus seniority rule. Retiring from the Post Office would give Bill the opportunity to spend more time at his second career. He was a warlock, and found many chances to amaze friends and neighbors with what they thought were simple magic tricks. Little did they know, that Bill was a master of the darker arts, who played magic tricks to keep in practice. Bill had his own plans for the upcoming Halloween, but they didn't involve anybody on this plane of reality. There were some other warlocks and witches he met with yearly to party with and have fun playing with lesser mortals, who had no idea where the changes they were going through came from. The same day that my boots were going through the sorting center, Bill was doing his usual slow sorting of packages behind the computers doing the letter sorts. His interest was gained by a work crew busy installing what looked like a massive version of the letter sorter, large enough to process packages occupying quite a few cubic feet. As he was busy watching that crew do their work, his own work started to slow. When Bill caught sight of a supervisor coming his way, he put his mind and hands back to the task at hand, thinking he was in for a reprimand for slacking off. Bill was in for more than a reprimand. The supervisor tapped Bill on the shoulder, then unceremoniously handed him a pink slip. In plain language, it said Bill was unpromotable, and being displaced by the machines he had been seeing installed. Since he was not yet at the magic number for retirement, Bill was being dumped without any claim to time in service. In a fit of rage, Bill balled up his pink sacking slip, and waved his hand at the supervisor who had already turned his back on Bill to walk back to his office. There was a puff of smoke, and a nearby female coworker screamed when she saw the resulting rat go scurrying past her position. Bill then turned toward the packages on the sorting rack in front of him, and said, "They dare to replace ME with a machine? Well, then, let those receiving these packages get an early Halloween gift from me. Oh, but I wish I could see all the faces of those changed by their packages!" He waved his hand over the packages, then Bill turned to depart, no longer a full time mail sorter and part time warlock. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * My boots arrived the next morning, a full month before I had to fly to the West Coast for the convention. When I got home from work that evening, I couldn't wait to finally see if all my preparations were going to result in a costume worth parading in at the convention. I took a shower to get the day's grime off, then before I had a chance to get excited, I started dressing by pulling my penis back between my legs with my balls tucked up into the cavity above it. The panties I'd acquired held it in place, with only a slight bulge showing in the back. To smooth out my legs and hide my hair, since I didn't want to shave it or use a depilatory, I pulled on two pairs of suntan colored tights. The corset I'd obtained was nothing like the heavy lace up ones, it was more of a glamorized waist cincher. I pulled it around my waist, and since I was already rather narrow waisted, it squeezed my waist in a good bit when I secured all the hooks. I pulled a body briefer over the panties and corset to smooth everything out, then filled the cups with the styrofoam breast forms. I thought these looked a little too flat, so I got a couple of balloons and filled them with a bit of water, then put them between my chest and the forms. My tits now stuck out to a better degree, looking more like a comic female's would. My feet slid easily into the legs of the catsuit, since they were already encased in spandex. I noticed that my legs still looked a bit muscular once the catsuit had been pulled up to my waist, but figured this wouldn't be a problem, since the boots would cover almost all of my legs. The boots standing out from the costume would not be authentic in the way the comic image had the boots as a one piece bottom to the catsuit, but I wasn't going to worry about that. I pulled my hands into the arms of the catsuit, then pulled it up over my torso. Once I had zipped up the back, the material pulled closely to the foundation garments, showing that it had been a good idea to use the balloons. The fact that the lines from the underwear showed through the spandex was a bit worrisome, but there was nothing that could be done about that. Before pulling the cowl up over my head, I got the face mask out. It was a bit garish, with heavy makeup. I guess it had been intended to make the wearer look like a slut. I slipped the mask over my face, being careful to line up my own eyes with the contact covered eyeholes of the mask, then felt my nose and lips slide into the moldings. I was now able to feel the latex clinging closely to my face, being animated by flexing and moving my own facial muscles. I pulled the sides of the mask tight, bringing the back flaps together, then tied it off behind my head. I didn't have to worry about covering it with a wig, since Cheetah's cowl and costume covered her head completely, with no hair showing. I pulled the cowl up over the mask, then pulled the zipper down in the rear, where it met the zipper from the back. I had added some cat ears to the top of the cowl, and they stood out a bit less than I'd hoped. Maybe in the time left before the trip, I'd be able to fix them. I then pulled on the elbow length gloves, and was amazed at how well they blended in with the catsuit's pattern. When I pulled the boots from their box, I couldn't believe the heel height. Apparently, the fact that I had women's size 11 feet meant that the heels were a bit taller to give the same effect as a smaller sized foot. I got a ruler, and saw that the actual height of the heels on my boots was 8 inches, giving an effective height of 6 inches instead of the expected 5 inches. I started to worry about being able to walk in them, but figured I'd get a chance to practice in the weeks to come. The pattern on the boots didn't match the catsuit quite as well as the gloves had, but was close enough. I zipped on the first boot while sitting on the seat at my desk, then reached for the second. As I did so, I could swear the color and pattern was changing to match the catsuit exactly. As I finished zipping on the second boot, the magic spell Bill put on the boots took full effect. The zippers on the boots disappeared. The thought came to me that this meant I'd be trapped in the boots, unless I found a way to cut them off. That was only the beginning, though. The magic had a lot more work to do! Not only did the zippers on the boots disappear, but the boots themselves faded away, to become one with the catsuit, exactly as the comic version did. I watched in fascination as my feet shrunk to what looked like no more than a size 6 or 7, with the heel height staying where it was, increasing the arch under my feet considerably! The spell then worked its way up my legs, and when it reached my crotch, changed it to match what should have been there. I watched in awe, unable to do a thing, as the bulge in my crotch became flat, with twin bulges now showing where the lips of my new labia pushed out against the smooth spandex, no panty being there to show lines. Somehow, I was being turned into a real, fully equipped female, instead of the fake one I was pretending to be. I wondered what could possibly be causing this, and if this change was temporary or permanent? As I was starting to reach with my left hand to feel the result of this change, I pulled it back, on feeling the result of the magic on my waist. Whereas I'd had an acceptably narrow waist before, I watched in horror as I felt my waist pulling in to an extremely narrow hourglass shape. I knew what had to be coming, now. The water balloons and styrofoam in my already large tits turned into real flesh and blood, at the same time ballooning out to a truly awesome degree. I was stunned to watch my breasts growing out to a tremendous degree, becoming every bit as huge as a typical comic book badgirl's melons. The hands that went to feel the masses now projecting out from my chest morphed as they did so. I had gloves covering my hands and fingers with the patterned material. The spell changed them to match the comic version, becoming flesh toned vinyl with steel claws at the fingertips, and when they reached my new tits, the claws gingerly flicked at my nipples, making them stand proud. My hands hefted my breasts, and I couldn't believe the mass they were holding. Then the magic went higher. I suddenly felt no rubber on my face, saw no holes in front of my eyes. The slutty face had become my own! The Cheetah ears on top of my cowl became exact matches for those on the comic book. Other changes had to have occurred, hidden by the cowl. I had to see this in a mirror. I stood, finding no problem at all in standing in the skyscraper stilettos now projecting from the bottom of my costume's soles. Even with the 8 inch heels under my ankles, my perspective in the room seemed to have lowered. I must have shrunk to no more than 5 feet in height, with a well endowed petite sized body. Walking to the bathroom proved to be effortless, also. My body had been made to use every bit of my costume. What I saw in the mirror made my jaw, svelte as it was, drop. The beautifully proportioned face I saw was nowhere near as wide as mine had been, with the mask doing its best to just make it look feminine. The slutty makeup of the mask had become intensely done makeup on MY face, a face that cried out, "I'm a slut looking for a fuck!" Almost in terror, I reached behind my head to unzip the cowl. When it was pulled back down to my neck, a glorious pile of blonde hair streamed past my neck to the middle of my back. I closed my eyes and shook my head, somehow thinking this would all go away. When I reopened my eyes and looked in the mirror, the image I saw was not of my head in its blonde halo. The image had the cowl on. To this point, I hadn't uttered a word. I'm surprised I hadn't screamed. The image in the mirror talked first. "Don't think you're going to get away from me! I'm the real you, the Cheetah. You are no longer a wimp, letting everybody do things to you. Get your cowl back on! Become your true self, a feline predator with no prohibitions." I began to say, "What do you mean...," but stopped when I heard my own voice, a sultry feminine voice identical to the voice coming from the mirror. Then, without any control, I piled up my hair behind my head and pulled the cowl back into place. When the zipper was closed, I felt my own personality fading, being pushed to the rear. The image in the mirror matched exactly the figure standing in front of the mirror. "Yes," I said in my own sexy contralto voice, "I AM the Cheetah!" With that, the spell finished its work. I watched in wonder as my bathroom became a well equipped boudoir with a huge makeup table. As I turned to go back into my bedroom, I saw the frilly queen sized four poster bed and pastel paint scheme it had been changed to. The Cheetah had her own world now, and I was feeling myself being drawn into the character I had only intended to portray at a costume contest. I wonder, if I did go to the convention, would I be likely to see my nemesis, Wonder Woman? What was I thinking, my nemesis? Wonder Woman at a comic convention? But for all I knew, maybe the spell had changed my world completely, to include the other characters from the comics I've been in. I've been in? The Cheetah was rapidly becoming the dominant part of my mind. Then, to my horror, I found myself doing the will of the Cheetah. I disrobed from my costume, and went to my closet to get my street walking clothes. I'm finding out that while Cheetah rules the day, my alter ego works the night. In the comic, I'm Priscilla Rich. But do I want a namby pamby name like that? No, I think I'll call myself Prissy Pussy. I can be Priscilla in the daytime. Now let's see, which shoes should I wear with this outfit? A black spandex top over a black leather miniskirt with black fishnet hose can only call for one pair - my black patent leather, 6 inch heeled, fuck me shoes! My shoes? The floor of my closet was now covered with shoes and boots, the magically changed tools of my new life! I am the Cheetah! I am Prissy Pussy, a beautiful slut! Who's Steve?