This is an OC series based on a premise I always wanted to explore. Once a zoo's made you their next exhibit, there has to be a human caretaker who cleans your enclosure and takes care of you right? I wanted to tell a zoo tf story series from the caretaker's perspective, an innocent teenager who just wants money for college. But he's about to realize that the animals he takes care of are more than what they seem.

- 3700 words

"Diary of a Zoo Employee-Chapter 1" A multi-character cheetah tf story




July 12th, 2021


Dear Diary,


What a hell of a day. It started out like any other, I woke up feeling like a sack of bricks because I thought staying up till 2 in the morning going on Call of Duty campaigns was a good idea. Apparently I make this mistake a lot, at least over the past several weeks since school let out. At least it’ll help me take my mind off the things I saw at work today.

I work at a place called Fairytails outreach and wildlife sanctuary in Gunnersville, West Virginia. The tourist brochures preach of a “last chance sanctuary for retired zoo and circus animals”, but once you pull down the bumpy gravel drive a starkly different scene greets you.

The first stop here at the park is the termite exhibit, or at least that’s what us employees call the tattered, peeling welcome sign that welcomes guests as a mortician welcomes mourners to a funeral. Most customers don’t see it through the vines strangling what remains of the battered planks. As such, their first thought is naturally one of confusion, as they began to question whatever maps, GPS, or deranged gas station attendant guided them here. Pulling off the main road one is greeted by a crumbling facade of mesh fencing surrounded by garbage and refuse from the old coal mining days. A battered mobile home and more fencing awaits you in the parking lot, dust-covered cardboard giraffes and lions the only indication you’re in the right place.

This was my view every day as I arrived at my shifts, as there were no employee entrances to the park. We didn’t need them. It was rare for us to get more than 10 customers a day and our parking lot could easily fit the dozen or so employee cars that showed up each morning. Despite me showing up 30 minutes late, only one customer had arrived so far.

I could tell who was in each day just by recognizing their cars, and this was usually a good indicator of how my day was gonna go. This particular morning I pulled up to see a bright red Honda Civic smothered in bumper stickers wedged right in front of the entrance and groaned. We had two shift supervisors and the civic belonged to the far worse of the two, a beastly troll of a woman named Savannah.

Savannah treated work like it was the bubonic plague and avoided it at all costs. If you were lucky, she stayed in her office all day and let you do your own thing. If not, she would bark nonsensical orders at you just for the hell of it. She could make your life hell and laugh while doing so. Fortunately most days she was too drunk or lazy to bother waddling out of her office. Nevertheless, it was with a resigned groan that I trudged through the ramshackle metal bars that passed for a front gate.



Sure enough, the first thing I saw past the gate was Savannah, clad in a stained One Direction t-shirt and a skirt that was much too short, storming towards me like a hurricane barreling towards a helpless coastline. Her footsteps could have measured on the richter scale. Normally when she was on a tirade it was best to just stand back and let the stormclouds rumble past. But a quick glance around revealed no other targets for her outrage, leaving me nothing left but to brace for impact and hope for the best.

“Daniel! You’re late!” She screeched at a decibel range reserved for jet engines. I sighed.

“ You’re not? That’s a shocker.” I muttered under my breath. Unfortunately it did not fly by her unnoticed.

“ What did you say monkey-dick?” She finally caught up to me, panting heavily from the exertion. I could tell she hated every minute of it, sweat pouring down her heavy face, her breath reeking of doritos and cheap beer. But before I could respond she shook it off, continuing between gasps for breath.

“Eh, I’ll just dock it from your pay. But look, we got some new cheetahs arriving today. I need you to sprint over and help Trish prepare the enclosure for our arrivals.”

This was nothing new, new animals seemed to come and go with increasing frequency here at the park. Up till now I’d never questioned it. This was just a summer job, I wasn’t paid to care about the inner workings of the park’s infrastructure. I simply nodded and raced away before she could say anything else, taking off down the dirt path towards the maintenance shed.

Despite recent periods of low rainfall the track leading towards the maintenance building was inexplicably muddy, my old ratty sneakers sloshing and slipping as I sprinted towards the giant metal building housing all our tools and equipment. This was typical, as the ATVs were locked away by management to “prevent joyrides”. Fortunately I didn’t slip and fall; I was still in Savannah’s sight and she’d never let me hear the end of it if I fell now. I quickly grabbed a shovel and rake and darted down a different path towards the cheetah cage. I had run down these paths many times while carrying large feed bags and other supplies, and my parents have remarked several times how much it’s helped for my fitness. It’s one of the things I love about this job, and the looks I get from girls makes the endless hours of shoveling manure worthwhile.

I sprinted into the customer portion of the park where all the enclosures were, the park devoid of people as usual. I sometimes wondered how this place remained in business, but never put too much thought into it. I had assumed there were some grants or private sponsorships keeping this place afloat, although I never saw any billboards or advertisements indicating as such. That plus the $18 an hour base rate was more than enough to keep me from thinking too hard on the subject. That was a grave mistake as I’d soon discover.

I arrived at the cheetah enclosure to find Trish perched outside the steel door, mop and bucket in hand. Upon noticing my arrival her face lit up with a warm smile that sent shivers through my whole body. I’ve always kind of had a crush on her, though I’d never admitted it in public. Nevertheless, I straightened my shoulders and put on a confident smile as I approached her.

“Ready to go in?” I asked, lifting up my shovel and rake in a way that displayed my biceps in the most flattering way possible. She laughed.

“I’m already done. Don’t worry, I did your parts too. That place is squeaky clean.” My face melted, arms sagging like rubber.

“What? Already? But I'm like only 30 minutes late.” I whimpered, realizing my alone time with Trish was slipping out of my grasp. She shrugged, dumping the mop in the bucket.

“Savannah wanted it done ASAP. I think they’re bringing in the animals right now actually.”

“Wait really? That sounds cool! Let’s go watch!” I dropped the rake and shovel and started to make my way towards the front of the cage. However before I could I felt Trish’s hand land firmly on my shoulder.

“ Savannah said we need to go right back when we’re done.” Trish stated firmly, pointing back towards the maintenance shed. “Besides, you know the rules, we can’t see the animals until they adjust to their new habitat. We don’t want them to spook and make a run for it right in the middle of delivery.”

“They won’t get spooked if we hide in some bushes or something.” I mused, ignoring the are-you-crazy look Trish was shooting me. “We’ll camp out and watch them from the outside. What’s the harm there?” She just rolled her eyes, flipping back her long auburn hair in the process.

“There’s a lot of harm if we get caught.” Trish crossed her arms defiantly. “You know Savannah’s merciless on troublemakers. We can just see ‘em tomorrow on our off day.”

“ Then head out without me. I wanna see this.” Ignoring her objections, I scampered around the side of the cage, scanning the area for suitable hiding spots. The cheetah enclosure was a mesh cage out front, but the back wall was a loose construction that protected prying eyes from the service buildings sprawled out behind it. It was likely from there that the new cheetah family would arrive. I crouched from behind the wall, peeking around the corner in hopes that I would get a glimpse of the new arrivals and their handlers. However, the scene I saw was very different.

There were 5 humans in the cage, and three of them didn’t appear to be handlers. A scraggly man with a scratchy stubble stumbled about, dressed in a ragged t-shirt scrawled with the faded logo of a beer company that went bankrupt 25 years ago. His wife stood nearby, smoking a cheap cigarette. Their daughter, about middle-school age, was running around the enclosure with a wide, curious expression. Two employees who appeared to be security guards stood by the door. Perhaps the family was getting a private meet & greet session? With a gulp I realized they were way too protected to be handling animals. They appeared as if they were here to dismantle a bomb rather than deliver an animal.

I cocked my head curiously. Suddenly I recognized the girl, uneasiness beginning to take root in my stomach. She was someone from my little sister’s class who’d come around to our house sometimes. Her family worked at the cannery that employed half the town before hard times and poor management shut it down. They lived on the west side of town in the massive maze of derelict trailers that housed many former employees unable to get back on their feet, cautiously dubbed “Hangman Estates” by those fortunate enough to not live there. With most high-paying jobs fleeing the city and no state assistance this far in the country, many West side families had succumbed to drugs, alcohol, or both. They certainly looked the part, the father and mother’s hollow, gaunt faces suggesting several years of rampant abuse. My family was lucky. My father works at the local clinic as a general practitioner, and Mom works part time as a Librarian, so we were able to survive when the cannery went down. We’ve had to cut down on what mom calls “expendables” but we still try to help out where we can and put food on the table. I got this job to help out, and hopefully make enough to shave a little off student loans. If I was ever going to escape this place, work was essential.

I felt a twinge of guilt at the girl’s situation, before realizing something wasn’t right. There’s no way these people could afford a private tour. The base price was $300 for an all-access pass, and depending on party size could run you over $1000. Nobody in these parts could afford that, let alone a family from Hangman Estates. What the hell was going on?

I was mulling through my options when suddenly the man screamed and fell to the ground clasping his head, an expression of agony frozen in the features. I watched in shock as the daughter ran over to him, crying out his name while his wife looked on, continuing to smoke from her cigarette. Given her dazed expression and lack of response, I assumed more than nicotine ran through her system. I blinked rapidly, hoping what I was seeing was some sort of bizarre hallucination. Morbidly I knew it was a futile effort, however. There was no way my mind could have concocted such a blood-curdling scream or the horrific imagery that was about to twist its way into my mind forever.

Which a crunch audible even from my hiding spot, I watched with horror as the man’s skull began to stretch as if made of plastic, nose and mouth twisting and contorting in ghastly ways. His eyes were shut in obvious pain, and it took every ounce of willpower I had to not immediately jump out from my hiding place and take off screaming down the path. The daughter was right next to him, tears rolling down her face as she asked him what was going on. From my perch I could hear every word being sobbed out, and it made me want to vomit.

The man’s skull continued squashing and extending, but began to take on a form I found almost familiar. The man’s nose had flattened out at the top but stretched out at the bottom, forming a triangular shape. Extra flesh rolled out onto his jowls and upper lips, centered by a divot that had an awfully animalistic look to it. I could see his face taking a rounded appearance, cheekbones more prominent as his nose and mouth stretched out into a short muzzle. The shape was increasingly familiar, until I recognized it with a jolt. The man had the furless skull of an African Cheetah, the very animal that was to be featured in the exhibit. I watched in total disbelief, refusing to believe my own eyes.

As his family looked on the father’s cries became garbled and animalistic, resembling more and more the guttural growls and yelps I knew so well from nature shows. I swallowed, the noises confirming my hypothesis. Some way, some how, this man was becoming the cheetah that was to fill this enclosure.

The realization made me want to vomit, an acidic feeling churning up my stomach. I had worked here for over a year, feeding and taking care of the animals. Had they all been former humans? How hadn’t I realized this for so long? Who knew? Savannah? Trish? Someone else even higher up the ladder? Why did this place even exist? My heart felt like it had been stepped on by an Elephant as I fought back tears, suppressing the instinct yelling at me to run. No way I could escape now without being spotted.

The transformation had begun to spread beyond his face as he clawed at it with deformed hands, fingers growing stiff and stubby. With sickening horror I noticed his movements becoming more erroneous, his arms swinging like live electric wires before falling flat to his side before repeating the process again. It was as if he was losing control of his own body, starting with twitching in his shoulders and limbs before the spasms moved down to his lower torso and legs. His skull cracked as it began to compress, the sporadic movements increasing in both frequency and intensity as it sloped in line with his forming muzzle, a look of agony burned into his wide eyes.

The daughter screamed, likely having no idea what the hell was even going on. She ran to the door but was blocked by the two guards, each pointing assault rifles directly at her heart. They showed no emotion or hesitation as they did so, as if they’d done this before. I realized there was no way they could escape, and it killed any chance of me trying to help. There was nothing I could do.

The daughter begged and pleaded with the guards, but it was no use. In a fit of tears she noticed her own hands, already beginning to submit to the changes afflicting her father. It only made her cry harder, which in turn made my stomach feel like lead.

The father’s eyes had glazed over, as his struggling ceased and he sat there limply on his hands and knees, although I could see the joints beginning to buckle and strain like a plank of wood after an elephant walked on top of it. They began to snap and crackle, I watched with both fascination and horror as the very musculature and bone structure of his arms and legs moulded as if made of rubber. It was like a scene from a horror movie, and I could only remain frozen like a statue as I witnessed what should have been impossible. I was still half-convinced this was all some sort of illusion. It had to be, right?

By now all three of them appeared to be captivated by whatever mystical device ensnared them, though only the girl was now showing any reaction to it. The woman who I assumed was her mother seemed only pissed that her shifting paws could no longer grasp her cigarette as it tumbled onto the dirt below. The daughter was about to make another move to try and sneak past the guards, when suddenly she cried out, falling to her hands and knees as I watched them undergo the same changes that her father’s did. I saw her pants beginning to bulge as a strange lump began to push at the back of her pants, appearing at first like a large zit or boil. It was both revolting yet fascinating to watch as the flesh moulded and grew, beginning to twitch as nerves and muscle filled the space. I realized this was to be a tail, a thick furry appendage that would help the future big cats balance themselves. Soon they were twisting and nudging their way out of each of the three, tearing through pants and shorts alike. I averted my eyes as their clothing fell off, but soon realized I had no need to as golden spotted fur began to swiftly conceal any shameful body parts with a protective blanket. But as the shredded fabric fell onto the dusty cracked ground, it revealed a horrific amalgamation of cracking ribs, flattening flanks and twisted flesh that seemed inhuman even as any exposed flesh was quickly covered up by fur. I could see the girl clearly, she was crying even as her face began to crack and extend into a short muzzle. It was an image instantly seared into my mind like a branding iron. She was scratching at the walls with her new claws and forelegs, struggling to balance herself on malformed back legs.

A crying yowl resonated through the air, a mix between human and feral, sinding violent shivers through my spine. The others slowly began to join in, though I wasn't sure whether panic or instinct guided them at this point. The combined yelps and howls, assimilating with what little remained of their shrinking human vocal cords, formed a haunting and sorrowful chorus that grew more wild with each passing minute. I could see sharp fangs pushing out from darkening lips as their noses grew dark and triangular, a split jutting down the middle of their upper lip. Leathery pads formed on their feet and hands as fingers and toes bloated and stiffened, transforming into paws armed with razor sharp claws. Unlike most big cats, the claws weren’t retractable. This would help them grip the ground better in a high speed chase.



As their bodies twisted and convulsed into completion, I knew could no longer watch without my stomach threatening to upheave all its contents. Cautiously I backed out of my hiding spot, making sure that none of the guards nor family members could see me. My heart was pounding in my chest as I dipped back around the side of the enclosure, breaking into an all out sprint once I was sure I was out of sight. The trees and buildings along the side of the path melted into a blur of color as I raced on by in an adrenaline-fueled daze.

I found myself standing in front of a guided map to the zoo, adorned with faded images of happy cartoon animals guiding visitors to the park’s few exhibits. The animals swapped out fairly regularly, but currently there were rhinos, several species of antelope, foxes, capybaras, elks, several pairs of capuchin monkeys, a lone mountain gorilla silverback male, and a small insect and reptile house featuring a resident komodo dragon. Working here I knew each of them by name, cleaning their exhibits and making sure they were well fed. Their faces haunted my mind as I struggled to contain my racing thoughts. For months I had worked tirelessly to ensure their well-being, how could I have never known these things? Were the other animals once human as well? Who was in on it?

I couldn’t bear to walk through the public park past the animals, so I quickly ducked into an employees only door and took the service path back to the administration building. To my surprise I found Savannah waiting for me there, jabbering away on her standard-issue walkie-talkie. As I got closer she hung up immediately, shoving it into her pocket.

“Did you get it done?” She sneered, pulling out a cigarette from her other pocket and lighting it up.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t get there in time. They were already unloading the animals so I went and cleaned out the rhino cage. It was close by, so I might as well, right?” It was a flat out lie, but I couldn’t let her know the truth. She appeared to not buy it at first, squinting suspiciously as her lips drooped into a scowl. Finally she tossed the cigarette, appearing to make a decision.

“Don’t think I won’t check it later. If I catch you lazing around you’ll be fired faster than a sprinting cheetah. Sleeping is for the animals. You dig?” I nodded incessantly, trying not to panic on the outside. I knew I’d have to race back over and clean it out the second she let me go. I was already sweaty enough. Great. I almost wondered if being the animal was the better deal. She gave me a condescending pat on the shoulder as she made an attempt at what one might call a grin.

“Good. But we’ve got the green light now, the new animals are situated in their new enclosure. I need you to hustle your tiny a$$ back over there and get them fed. Got it?” I nodded weakly as my legs buckled. The last thing I wanted was to go back to that place. But I had no choice if I didn’t want to piss off my supervisor.

What a hell of a day.