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"So I can make money with this method!" Stanley mused, stroking the cat ears on his head. Thanks to a certain scientist and the situation around him, everyone had turned into animal forms, allowing him to freely touch the two cat ears without caring about his image. The cat ears twitched uncomfortably at the touch. Stanley hummed; even after several hours, he still hadn't gotten used to being a cat. Besides, the whiskers were unexpectedly prickly for a human like Stanley, and having fur on his hands was no joke.
"Grunkle Stan, stop touching yourself like that. I'm worried you'll pull your own cat whiskers out. Besides, one of the functions of cat whiskers is to maintain balance. What if you, as an animal..." Dipper, holding Journal 3, lowered his head and started explaining, occasionally touching the deer antlers on his own head. He hadn't opened the journal—he hadn't found a solution to the problem yet—so he was studying on his own. His forced calm demeanor contrasted sharply with Mabel sitting beside him. Mabel was unusually excited; if Stanley hadn't forbidden her from going outside, she would have dashed out of the shack for a joyful run. Dipper uncomfortably shifted his chair away from her as her dog tail brushed against him (and it kept wagging).
"Hmph... Dipper, don't act too much like that genius who only tinkers in the basement. Besides, we turned out like this because of him." Stanley was in a bad mood, his cat tail unconsciously swishing a few times. He wanted to make hot cocoa but found he couldn't grip the cup properly. The cat's paw had turned into something like human fingers, though larger than a normal human's hand. Unused to them, he flexed them, and the cat's sharp claws extended. Then there were the paw pads—because of them, everything Stanley touched felt strange. In short, he was completely unaccustomed. He slumped onto the sofa, watching Dipper deep in thought, his tail still swishing impatiently.
Mabel, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself, constantly touching her dog tongue and hugging Waddles for fun. "Come on! Grunkle Stan and Dipper! Even though we've turned into animals, we still have hands and feet! So, can I go out now?" Mabel couldn't wait any longer and jumped off her chair. Her white fur paired with her sweater looked surprisingly harmonious. To match her new appearance, she had deliberately chosen a sweater with a dog print. She spun around excitedly on the spot, her movements now resembling those of a real dog.
"No, I don't want to see your white fur covered in mud," Stanley muttered from the sofa, not looking at her. He seemed drowsy, but his tail still swayed. Propping his chin on his paw pads, his ears drooped slightly as he stared blankly at the TV screen. Stanley was still wearing his white tank top, though the tattoo pattern on his back was mostly obscured by fur. Seeing her grunkle in such a soft, vulnerable state, Mabel was about to leap over for a crushing hug when Dipper stopped her in time. Dipper gestured a warning and quietly reminded her that startling Grunkle Stan in such a relaxed state might cause him to bristle—he didn't want to see Stanley scratch Mabel with his cat claws.
Mabel wanted to tease Stanley about how his drowsy appearance was no different from a house cat's and how he was clearly influenced by animal instincts, now curled up on the sofa like a fluffy ball.
The failed tease and prank didn't dampen Mabel's enthusiasm. She sat back in her chair and shared her thoughts with Dipper, who chuckled and nudged her with his elbow. They began playfully bickering, Dipper tickling her stomach while Mabel retaliated by pinching his deer nose. Waddles had already wandered off to search for leftover pancakes from breakfast. Stanley, drawn by the children's laughter, had grown sleepy. He unconsciously closed his eyes, yawned, and revealed sharp canine teeth. He straightened his back, stretched his arms forward, and pulled his ears back slightly.
"Haaa———" Stanley was still tired, so he simply leaned against the back of the sofa and began purring.
The twins stopped their antics and stared at Stanley, their expressions identical to when they had seen Stanford emerge from the portal.
Mabel covered her mouth and whispered a soft "Wow." She should have been rolling her eyes at Stanley for making such a gesture—after all, he was already old. But as a cat, Stanley looked unexpectedly natural, probably because the animal he turned into was a cat? She even wanted to vigorously ruffle Stanley's head—his cat ears looked so fluffy.
Dipper pretended not to see Stanley stretching in cat form. For some reason, an awkward feeling welled up inside him, so he feigned flipping through the journal to ease it.
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Just as Stanley fell asleep purring and the twins were considering how to get Grunkle Stan back to bed, the vending machine behind them made noise. After a series of mechanical clatters, it popped open with a bang. Fortunately, the loud sound didn't wake Stanley—he only frowned slightly, his cat whiskers and ears twitching as he turned to the other side and continued sleeping. Stanley's tail hung curled against the floor. A blanket Mabel had draped over him was also there.
Stanford, though in animal form, still had visibly dark circles under his eyes. His furry hands held a yellow book. Stanford had turned into a German Shepherd; his brown fur surprisingly matched his trench coat. His dog ears were alertly erect, and his expression was as cautious as a police dog facing a suspect, as if he had just emerged from an experimental state. Seeing Mabel and Dipper, he even picked up a pen and began writing in his notebook.
"Grunkle Ford, you've adapted so easily to writing with animal-like hands?" Dipper, seeing Stanford still experimenting under such circumstances, suddenly felt a surge of respect. He excitedly looked at the book in Stanford's hands, his demeanor reverting to when he had first learned Stanford was the journal's author. His deer tail even wagged cheerfully in sync with his mood.
"Shh———Dipper, do you want Grunkle Stan to jump up and scratch your face?" Mabel looked puzzled at Dipper's excitement. Even in this state, Stanford seemed impressive, but ever since Stanford had turned them into animal-like humans, he had buried himself in the basement.
This had all happened in the morning. She couldn't forget Stanley bristling and yelling at him, ready for a fight, while Stanford calmly stared back, unaware that he was baring his teeth. A true cat-and-dog battle. It was now afternoon, and Stanley had long since run out of steam from anger. Stanley had ordered Dipper and Mabel not to go outside until they turned back to normal. What a pity for her adorable dog form, so Mabel held a grudge against Stanford, who only appeared now, neurotically scribbling in his book.
"So... Grunkle Ford, are those... glasses on your dog nose?" Mabel noticed that even as a German Shepherd, Stanford was wearing glasses—the sight was utterly incongruous.
Stanford closed his book, adjusted his glasses, and finally noticed the two children standing before him. Clearly, he hadn't slept in a while. His deep black pupils shifted between them, and his ears and tail relaxed.
"Oh, yes. Good afternoon, Mabel, Dipper," Stanford replied apologetically to Mabel.
"Good afternoon, Grunkle Ford. Did you discover something new?" Dipper asked shyly, rubbing his deer antlers. He observed Stanford—the classic German Shepherd form, his tail looking powerful and held upright.
Mabel ignored Dipper's "Wow, so cool" comment and pointed at the soundly sleeping Stanley behind them.
"Yeah, so Grunkle Ford, can you carry Grunkle Stan back to his room?"
Just as Stanford was about to say something to the twins, Mabel suddenly spoke, cutting him off. Stanford raised an eyebrow, adjusted his glasses, and looked in the direction Mabel pointed. Stanley had shifted through many sleeping positions during their conversation and now had his head tilted to the side of the sofa. Seeing Stanley's cat-like sleeping posture, Stanford paused for a moment before nodding to Mabel to indicate he'd seen. His gaze lingered on Stanley's fluffy cat ears.
Whether it was because Stanley was always noisy around him or simply ignored him, the sight of Stanley sleeping peacefully within his view was oddly contrasting. It gave him the illusion that Stanley had always been a house cat, and that Stanley had adapted to a cat's sleeping posture.
Really, just like a cat.
While Stanford stared at Stanley, Mabel nudged Dipper with her elbow. She noticed Stanford's tail wagging steadily, as if Stanford was quite satisfied with Stanley's sleeping appearance.
Dipper glared at her. Mabel shrugged, signaling him to come closer. Mabel whispered something into his deer ear, and Dipper retaliated with an elbow nudge. Mabel's tail wagged happily, her expression saying "you can't beat me."
"So?" Mabel suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. Stanford's tail and ears twitched. He turned to see a smug Mabel and a reluctant Dipper. Though puzzled, he didn't ask—children's thoughts were beyond him. Noticing Mabel addressing him, he slipped the yellow book into his pocket, coughed awkwardly, and Pretend to be calm straightened his trench coat. His tail remained suspended mid-air.
"Thank you for the suggestion, Mabel. I will. I don't want to see Stanley with a sore neck after he turns back human." Stanford crouched down and patted Mabel's head. Mabel cheered happily, while Dipper looked at her reproachfully.
Mabel grabbed Dipper's arm, pulling him along. Her tail wagged cheerfully, occasionally hitting Dipper's leg. Under Stanford's puzzled gaze, they headed upstairs. "Good luck, Grunkle Ford," Mabel said, using her furry hand to muffle her triumphant laughter. Dipper instinctively tried to pull down his hat to hide his expression but gave up when he remembered he'd removed it because of his antlers, letting Mabel drag him by the arm.
With Mabel's laughter, they went upstairs, seemingly returning to their rooms. Faint sounds of Mabel excitedly talking could be heard, footsteps gradually fading until finally, the response was only the closing of a door.
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Silence returned, occasionally broken by the wind howling outside. Since the doors and windows were shut, only the whistling remained. Stanley turned over uncomfortably, purring as he licked his lips with his tongue before continuing to sleep. Parts of the sofa were slightly damaged by Stanley's claws, and his tail still hung to the floor. The blanket had been kicked aside during his turning.
Now only Stanford and Stanley remained, though the latter was merely a Maine Coon completely unaware of his brother observing his sleeping face. After the twins left, Stanford stood before Stanley, maintaining half a meter's distance. Stanford's large shadow fell over Stanley, passing through the cat ears and leaving a gray patch on the floor. He could see the faint tattoo pattern on Stanley's back—the one from their argument thirty years ago. Stanford felt inexplicably irritated and crossed his arms, watching Stanley snore. Influenced by his mood, Stanford's tail and ears noticeably drooped. If Mabel saw this, she'd definitely shout excitedly.
He irritably scratched his ear, trying to calm himself. It was just carrying him back to his room—what was the big deal? Right, no big deal. He took out the yellow book and recorded Stanley's sleeping demeanor, the room filled only with the soft scratching of his pen.
After writing, he stopped, his gaze lingering above Stanley's head. He wanted to touch Stanley's cat ears—he'd felt an urge to test their texture since earlier. Just as the shadow of Stanford's arm drew closer to Stanley's cat ears, Stanley frowned, turned away, and avoided it. His tail swished several times before he settled into a more comfortable position and continued sleeping, still purring.
Well, not now. Seeing him unconsciously avoid the touch irritated Stanford even more. His extended hand hovered in the air, stubbornly, before finally clenching into a fist and retracting.
What about the tail? Stanford pushed up his glasses, thoughtfully crouching down. Just as he was about to touch it, it dodged again. This time, he stubbornly tried several times, but the tail seemed to taunt him like a cat toy. Eventually, under Stanley's furrowed brow, he gave up.
Alright, another failure. Stanford wrote in the yellow book again, this time scribbling hastily. Faced with an experiment right before him that he couldn't complete—falling short of his expectations, even though it was his own impulsive decision—he closed the book and slipped it into his pocket before examining the Maine Coon before him again. Grayish fur, eye color unknown, tactile sensation unknown, though whether animal-like reactions would occur post-transformation was known. He stood up, straightened the blanket Stanley had kicked off, and prepared to carry him upstairs.
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Stanford wrapped his left arm around Stanley's shoulders and supported his calves with his right, thinking he'd remind Stanley to cut back on sweets once he woke up and turned human. The carrying posture resembled a "princess carry," but Stanford saw nothing wrong with it. To him, Stanley was no different from a larger adult cat. Having lived in other dimensions for thirty years, he was confident in his strength. Moreover, Stanley's animal form had surprisingly shrunk—likely due to becoming a cat—while his own body had grown larger. Now, Stanley took up only half his frame.
Stanley breathed rhythmically in his arms, allowing Stanford to properly examine his animal form. The fur felt incredibly soft. Stanley's cat ears occasionally brushed against the wool of the trench coat, making them twitch more noticeably. His tail hung straight in the air, completely still.
For a moment, only Stanford's footsteps and Stanley's purring filled the staircase. Stanford could even hear his own heartbeat. His mind was calm, if one ignored the faint wagging of his dog tail behind him and the fact that he kept staring at Stanley's face.
When Stanford emerged from the room, he found the twins waiting by the door. Mabel was clearly the most excited.
"Grunkle Ford! You did it!" Mabel spun around excitedly—her animal form likely influenced this. "I thought after you punched Grunkle Stan, you were prepared to never have much contact with him again! Oh my gosh! Maybe now you can have a 'good brother hug'? Ooh, I'm so excited! Well, after Grunkle Stan wakes up, of course!"
Dipper looked apologetically at Stanford, who was still processing. "Uh, yeah? I thought you'd refuse and head back to the basement. So—I mean—that notebook you have, the yellow one, I'm really interested. Can I... take a look?"
"Dipper, you're still thinking about that!" Mabel quickly cut in ahead of Dipper, pressing Stanford:
"So, how did Grunkle Stan feel? Especially those fluffy cat ears!"
Watching the twins play off each other, he found it amusing. "Of course, it felt great. And what you don't know is, just now, Stanley's cat tail actually wrapped around my hand. That was quite interesting."
Relaxed, Stanford's tail wagged slightly more cheerfully.
Under Mabel's scrutinizing gaze, he opened the vending machine and descended into the basement to continue his tedious experiments.
Before that, Stanford told them they'd return to human form by tomorrow. Upon hearing this, Mabel immediately dashed outside to play wildly, while Dipper had the privilege of seeing Stanford's newly handwritten book.
As for Grunkle Stanley, still sound asleep in bed, he remained completely unaware.