Catlateral Catastrophe (Septiplier/MarkiplierxJacksepticeye)

Chapter 8

"Well, don't just fockin' stand there, ya arsehole!" I shrieked, hands frantically flailing over my lower half as the fluffy brown appendage flicked and swayed uncomfortably.

Mark's face fell, his eyes going as wide as silver dollars.  The intensity of the redness that roared across his face only grew, leaving him looking a flustered and confused soul.

In pure embarrassment, I took a hand away from my exposed junk and covered my blushing face, groaning.

"Get me some clothes!?"

The other man straightened up, grabbing this new furry companion of his by the collar while mumbling hushed words to it, dragging it out of the room. The dog seemed confused and frightened, which caused this weird urge for me to want to take a good swipe at it. I didn't like that, especially because said animal was so adorable.

As I stood there, naked, feeling the humid air caress my bare body, I turned my head back in the direction of the mirror. The sight of twitching ears still had me in a riot, but what had me more on edge was how red my face was. It wasn't like Mark hadn't seen me naked before, but I guess the scenario here was just a bit different.

Speaking of, Mark fumbled back into the small bathroom, tossing an old, black shirt, blue flannel which looked brand new and a pair of clean, gray jeans, accompanied by underwear.

I started out with the boxers and jeans, shoving them on quickly, face flushed as my tail continued to shield my goods from the other's line of sight.

"Jack, what the fuck happened?" Mark finally uttered, still giving me the impression that he was greatly flabbergasted. For good reason too, I suppose; I'd probably give a bit of a shite if I were to come home and find some sort of mythical cat-human hybrid that also happened to be my friend just hangin' out naked in my bathroom.

"I don't know," I replied simply, fiddling with the jeans. I reached for the shirt, only to find the back half of my jeans sagging down.

"Ugh, the fuck is wrong with these things!?" I found myself hissing, spinning around, trying to grab at the back of the denim waistband.

"You have a fucking tail, you idiot. Of course they're not gonna stay up," Mark retorted. He was strangely sassy. An obvious coping mechanism for whatever the fuck was going on right now. That's when I realised he so casually was staring at my ass, and my face felt hotter than the sun.

"Don't look at my fuckin' tail, ya perv!"

"Sure, sure. Of course, I'll just completely ignore that you have a fucking tail! Or that you were naked in my bathroom! Oh my god, Jack, what the fuck!?" The darker-haired guy cried out, hand rubbing furiously at his face and grooming through his hair. Now, the expression he carried signalled pure distress.

At this point, I was mirrorin' the fucker's distress.

"Just don't look at me while I--" I tugged on the shirt, firmly in place now, "--change!"

"Change out of what!? Nothing? Oh my god."

I turned on my heel, almost losing my balance. It was definitely strange having to adjust to my normal--well, half normal form again.

Every step in which I drew closer to Mark was like a stomp, until our faces were inches apart. I bared my teeth in a growl.

"Listen here ya little shit, if you think you're confused about this, imagine turning into a cat, being thrown into a shipping container, having one of your close buddies casually check if you've got a fockin' wang or not, then suddenly transforming back into a naked homosapien in said friend's damn bathroom!"