As you lay on your bed naked, you remind yourself that life as animal would have many challenges of its own. You would need to get your own food rather than a mother giving you cash for pizza. Predators, disease... The list goes on. Regardless, the thought of life as an animal is a good escape from your own reality. A common world you explore when you're on your own is that of a lithe fox, sneaking your way through the concrete jungle of your town. Knowing every single hidden alley and ditch in search of prey or a trick to play.
Of course on nights like tonight when no one else is home, that journey as a fox in your mind often ended with finding a fine vixen of your own. Naked on your bed, your hand crept down to your waist. Your maleness already fully erect from your overactive imagination, you take hold with your hand and begin doing what you have done countless times before. After a few minutes of pleasuring yourself, imagining you burying your foxy knot inside the pristine vixen you're on top of your arm clamps up and the fantasy grinds to a halt.
"Dammit!"
You mutter to yourself angrily, massaging your arm before realizing it's all of your muscles siezing up. You panic a little bit and as you examine your body, you notice that the erection between your legs doesn't belong to a human, but that of a dog. Pink. Hard. Knotted.
"What is going on?"
You run to the bathroom (more of a laboured walk with your muscles in their current condition) and turn on the tap. You go to put your hands under the running water to splash it on your face but are overcome by something. An uncontrollable and irrational realization that you just can't go near water. Not to drink, not to bathe, not anything. The thought of it terrifies you. You creep slowly towards the sink and running water. With trepidation and ailing muscles you eventually turn the tap off. Now you're getting mad. Why is this happening?
"Ok, just what the hell is happening to me?!?"
In a fit of rage, you clench a fist and clumsily swing it at the medicine cabinet mirror above the sink. You knew what would happen and of course it does happen. The glass cracks in multiple pieces, one of which puts a nice slice along one of your fingers. Now your outright pissesd off.
"Dammit!"
Your words are slightly slurred, like you were eating with your mouth full. Then you realize it. You're salivating like crazy. You remember the stories of rabies in animals and how humans can get it. Axiety comes into the mix as you remember your episode in the lab a month ago.
"But surely I was vaccinated at the orientation..."
You conclude you need to talk to Dr. Newman as soon as possible. But first you must get yourself presentable. You look at your multiple reflections in each piece of cracked mirror, then turn your gaze down your chest and to your bleeding hand beside it.
You see: