"Now, you do understand why you're here?" Doctor Adam Jones asked to the sandy tan colored Cocker Spaniel Animalian seated on the couch in front of him.
Her fur was relatively short, particularly on the arms and legs, which Doctor Jones figured was likely to deal with the summer heat. Lyre/Animalia wasn't as hot as some places, but as the month of June approached, summer heat was to be expected. She was dressed appropriately, though only just, as her tank top hugged her chest tightly which made Doctor Jones wonder if she was even wearing a bra, though he did his best not to stare. He'd come to Animalia to help set up couples therapy sessions, helping Animalians work through dating practices that would be more Human-like, particularly if they were dating a Human, and helping Humans dating Animalians remember to think with their mind and heart over their own libido. And from time to time, he still had a fair number of those sessions every month, but a lot of his time was spent dealing with Regressive Hypersexuality Syndrome cases.
These cases could be hit and miss, as they often seemed to manifest with older people who'd become Animalians having everything kicked back into high gear as a result of the conversion. It didn't happen with everyone, but it could be problematic with people having gone through some major trauma ultimately helping lead to Regressive Hypersexuality Syndrome in the new Animalian. As while the conversion could heal physical wounds, its effects on the psyche of the new Animalian was often limited and how those old wounds manifested simply changed. This increased the need for Doctor Jones to ultimately assure that Animalians with Regressive Hypersexuality Syndrome either got the help they needed or recognized it and took control of it, to make sure there were no cases of such and Animalian relieving "sexual tension" on an unwilling partner. So far, Doctor Jones had felt that his work, and those of his partners at his clinic, was actually doing quite well.
"Yeah... the Meat Market and Horizon seem to think I have Regressive Hypersexuality," Charlotte answered.
"And you don't believe them?" Doctor Jones asked.
"I mean I only groped a couple of people back," Charlotte huffed, "and many of them were wanting to throw money at the other dancers..."
"From the report I got, one of the people was a male security guard there at the Meat Market," Doctor Jones commented, "not a guest who was wanting the attention."
Charlotte only whimpered in response to that, "He was so dashing... and in a way reminded me of someone I lost..."
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The route was a dusty one and one that always presented trouble of some kind. But Charlotte drove her Humvee onward with on partner manning he machine gun mounted on the roof and another in the back seat to monitor the cargo they were carrying as part of their supply run to a forward unit out in the "Sunni Triangle" trying to catch the Al Qaeda in Iraq operatives that had been becoming an ever-bigger threat to establishing a new and democratic Iraq since the 2003 invasion. Those forward units couldn't fight without the logistics units, like Charlotte's, bringing supplies to them, and in recent years it was also one that included ambushes, IED explosions and actions that the army often wanted to keep people out of, but everyone knew that was a part of war.
"See anything, Buck" Charlotte asked to her gunner, a young man from Texas who's name James, but had ended up with the nickname "Buck" because his two front teeth were a bit bigger than the rest of them. Buck often resented it when anyone outside the unite used the nickname, but the unit was close and family. He and Charlotte even compared letters home from family when they weren't on supply runs or on duty. A part of her really liked him.
"Nothing new," Buck answered, "that old Nissan is still there..."
"Still?" Charlotte asked and then followed where Buck was pointing and noted an old beat-up Nissan truck sitting on the side of the road up ahead. They would pass the truck as they rounded an upcoming curve, with it being on Buck's side of the Humvee that Charlotte was driving. They'd passed this before, and in fact Charlotte had even called in engineers to see if there were any explosives in it. Their drone had found none, and it was thought they'd then bring in some other unit to tow it away.
"Yeah," Buck answered, "I guess they must have gotten something on the plates and know there's a guy waiting to come get the truck."
Charlotte shrugged and moved to go around the turn to then go past the truck. Just as they got past it, with Buck able to look to his fright and see into the bed of the truck, what happened was fast and sudden. Charlotte heard the "boom" of the explosion, but the bigger part was feeling the shockwave that served to rip the Humvee on its side. Buck was shredded by metal shrapnel from the exploding Nissan and from the frame around the gun hatch, and he was simultaneously hit with fire from that came as a result of the Nissan's fuel tank also going up. The last thing Charlotte remembered was finding that the Humvee had rolled completely and she was hanging upside down in the driver's seat and looking out the window to see what was left of Buck laying on the other side of the road. His uniform was on fire, his skin blackened, and there looked to be a large chunk of metal covered in blood where his head should have been.
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"And things got worse from there," Charlotte then spoke, for what felt like the millionth time on the issue.
The army's shrinks had provided some counseling on what had happened that day in 2004. Intelligence reports confirmed that the owner of the Nissan had had a breakdown and was trying to get the replacement parts to fix it, but by the time he could afford them an Al Qaeda cell noticed that the truck had sat unattended to for days and then packed the bed and interior with explosives, and Charlotte lived with that for years, as all things considered, her wounds were rather minor. Buck had been decapitated and they the parts of his head that were found were practically mush. The man in the back seat had some shrapnel from the truck exploding, but the worst thing for him were broken bones that came from the fact that he hadn't been buckled in when the Humvee flipped. Charlotte had some cuts and burns, but was otherwise physically fine. Mentally was a different issue.
"I'm sure the army's psychologists told you that you weren't responsible for what happened," Doctor Jones offered.
"They did," Charlotte nodded, "but that didn't mean I didn't feel responsible... and hurt. I mean, Buck and I had always been close. Friends... maybe closer... I don't know. I liked talking with him and some of his jokes were funny. And the last I saw of him was just his decapitated body lying in the sand and burning from an IED explosion. I don't know if I truly loved him or not... but I never even got the chance to figure that out. I never got the chance to say goodbye."
Doctor Jones watched as Charlotte shed a few tears wiping them from her face with her arm.
"And while the army's shrinks were able to keep me from depression and suicide," Charlotte admitted, "sadness at Buck's death was soon replaced by anger and rage. I wanted to get even with the bastards that killed him. And I could never understand why people didn't agree... I reenlisted and requested transfers to a combat unit, not a logistics or communications unit. And I voted for who promised to keep the war going until victory was won. But my feelings on Buck's death were known and the army kept me stateside... serving in ways that related to what I'd done in Iraq. Managing supplies and making sure they were delivered in the best way possible. And that lasted until 2018 when I was given an honorable discharge and combat veteran status... along with a note that I took as "war is a man's game." Some loyalty from the guy I voted for."
Doctor Jones didn't say anything, as his business wasn't to argue politics and at present that really wouldn't help Charlotte any.
"From there I was alone..." Charlotte managed, "admittedly I got a good pension, but I wasn't able to do much beyond a pretty low-quality apartment and work as a night-time janitor... and I was still seeing what happened to Buck going on. Then when I saw all the stuff going on with mental health over Covid... that's where I got some idea on converting. That maybe it would heal everything that had gone wrong..."
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"I must say again, that Horizon does note that becoming an Animalian will not necessarily cure things like post traumatic stress," Banjo said to Charlotte as she sat down on the bed in the conversion room.
"But it might," Charlotte answered as she tossed her shirt to side and offered her shoulder for the shot while sitting there in her pants and in a bra, "and after everything and for the veterans discount you're offering... I'm willing to take the chance."
Banjo then nodded and provided the shots, welcomed Charlotte to Animalia and then left. Charlotte watched him leave, as her body began to feel warm. When the door shut, she looked down to see small nub claws growing from her fingertips and sandy tan fur starting to grow on her arms. It was growing in fairly quick and warm, reminding her of a pet she'd had growing up, a Cocker Spaniel she'd named Lady after the dog in the Disney movie. It was the memory of that fond and happy companion, who had died of old age before Charlotte first enlisted, that had sparked Charlotte's choice in what Animalian to be. And as she held up her hands, she smiled as what would become more Animalian characteristics formed, as portions of her skin thickened and toughened underneath her fingers and the base of her fingers, forming the pads that many mammals had.
Some of her reverie, though, was soon lost as her shoes began to feel a bit cramped. Her feet were starting to dig into the front of the shoes, and she could even feel growing claws rub against the inside of her sneakers and socks as she tried to wiggle her toes and alleviate that pressure. She was quick to get her shoes off, finding that while her now more paw-like hands were less dexterous than before, it wasn't by much. It let her get her shoes off fairly easily and revealed lengthening feet with the same sandy tan fur and dull claws at the tips of her toes. She then pulled off her socks, which were a bit torn with at least one toe having poked through them, and then wiggled her toes with some delight.
"Wonderful," Charlotte smiled as she felt a tugging at her ears and then lifted her hands to then feel one ear growing out.
The attachment of her ear to head had shifted to the horizontal so that the flesh of her hear could hang from her head and let her ears hang down. She then shook her head, noticing the relatively modest muzzle pushing forward into her line of sight, but the key point was the feeling of her lengthening ears shaking and flapping with the shaking of her head, and that made Charlotte happy as she felt a nub at the base of her spine actually begin to wag a bit. Though as her tail began to grow in, she also felt her bra begin to grow tight and pinch against her back, shoulders, and chest as she look down to see her breasts swell larger and straining the fabric prison they were in.
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"And from there... my bra ultimately snapped under these girls," Charlotte finished and shook her chest a bit, making her generous globes sway visibly, and Doctor Jones did his best not to focus on them, "and strangely it felt even better when my tail finished growing in... but... there were some differences that went beyond just my physical form. I felt good... more uninhibited and it felt like..."
"Like you WANTED attention and to be seen?" Doctor Jones answered.
"Yeah," Charlotte admitted as she looked to Doctor Jones, "which is then why I set in with the Meat Market... at least for while I'm here. Maybe find someone nice... be brave enough to say I like a guy. And then that Human security guard that was on duty reminds me of Buck..."
"There's nothing wrong with being reminded of someone," Doctor Jones assured her, "and Regressive Hypersexuality isn't something you can't face. I've found that a lot of it relates to many of the same things that likely gave you trauma before. Therapy can help you adapt and accept certain things and recognizing when those urges are running high... thus putting you in a better place to control them."
"Really?" Charlotte asked, not wanting to admit how much some of those sexual urges had been affecting her.
"Yes," Doctor Jones nodded, "it'll take work... but it can be done."