Birth
You keep shovelling the food in as you hope that the necklace will come off soon. And then… finally… your hunger is stilled. "Oh, thank Bast," you murmur—until the contractions start.
You are uncomfortably reminded of a description of the process of giving birth: "Imagine your lower lip being pulled up over the top of your head…" Fortunately, the pain isn't that bad; if it was, you'd probably need to be restrained with leather straps or something, just to keep yourself from ripping hell out of everything within claws reach of your four legs. As it is, you find that digging your claws deep into the thick oaken floor, and biting on a thick metal hook, suffices to keep the collateral damage to a safe minimum.
Written by Catprog & Cubist on 21 November 2010