At last, a chance for escape! Rachel made her movements slow, careful to avoid attracting attention to her position.
Between the narrow cracks in the bleacher seats, she could get a quick count of the opposition. She stopped at twenty. It was too depressing to go any further.
Most of the girls had become—complete—after they had been injured. They now all sported lush tails and full muzzles, and all had gained at least a foot in height.
Nothing about them implied they could be cured, nor that they were not aware of or did not like their new forms. Rachel wasn’t sure which revelation was more
frightening. They prowled the gym floor hungrily. Rachel sensed she was their quarry. They knew she was there, and they wanted her to join the pack.
Dustin had carefully propped open the door with the metal jam attached to it. She could see him beyond the threshold, hunkered against the wall. He seemed to have
some weapon in his hand, a hockey stick, she believed.
She sped her movements along the taped gym floor, hunkering low to minimize exposure. Only a few feet of bleacher left cover for her to prepare her flight.
At times like these, she was thankful to hold the 100-meter dash record for her class. She knew she was fast enough to escape.
She gulped in a lungful of air and lunged from the safety of the bleachers.
Too late, she realized her mistake, certain as the swiping pain of claws raking her shoulder.
She had forgotten to look up.
Rachel crumbled into the ajar door, seeing for the first time the she-wolf perched on the edge of the bleachers. Her blood dripped from its sickle claws. It snarled
approvingly at her quivering body, knowing she was its packsister now.
Dustin heard the gasp, the only sound of warning before Rachel fell through the heavy double doors of the gym. They slammed loudly against the stone walls.
“Jesus!” he gasped, stunned from the sight. He noticed her right shoulder was cut.
The clacking of claws on polished hardwood caught his attention. Quickly, he strained against the air-driven hinge of the thick door, forcing it to close. Dustin wedged
the hockey stick into the looped handles of the doors, jamming it temporarily shut. It wouldn’t hold forever, especially not with a pack of angry she-wolves body
checking the door. Even now, the wood was beginning to splinter, the thick steel bolts giving way under the strain.
“DUSTIN,” a voice growled from behind him. Startled, he spun around to meet Rachel Morgan’s eyes.
Her bright amber eyes.
“PACK…CALLING…”
The infected young girl heaved and growled with agony as she tore her clothing with thick claws. Dark brown fur enveloped her skin as she grew in muscle and height,
sinking to four swelling paws.
“SO…HOT…”
A tail curled up from her spine as three new sets of breasts swelled from her chest. She opened her expanding muzzle wide, allowing room for her growing fangs to
glisten in the hall light. Pointed ears rolled into a conical shape and perched themselves atop her wolfish head.
This way was proper, better, she realized. Animal instincts claimed her mind, overwriting her human thoughts and memories.
“NEED…MATE…”
She was not a Rachel. She simply was.
The young werewolf raised her muzzle and howled.
Her bestial attention soon settled onto the male before her. She grew wet and her teats became erect with the thought of being mounted by him, of bearing his cubs.
First, she must gift him with the wolf, so they may mate and reproduce properly.
Dustin backed against the wall, caught between the amorous werewolf and the ravenous pack. He heard the cracking of plastic and warping of wood just as the
she-wolf before him sprang.