Clouds began to grow thicker in the sky, and the temperature started to drop. Catherine felt it cooling, but he could tell from the others they were feeling it more than her. He elected to keep his mouth closed on the matter. He was noticing odd looks from several of the team now and again, especially from the ones that were more heavily armed.
By the time they could see the large sprawling base, the wind was starting to howl and fog was rolling in. He was very glad to no longer be out in the middle of nowhere, but he was nervous as to what would happen next. There have to be a way to undo the changes made by the retrovirus, or maybe even just remap a new retrovirus off of a human DNA strand, preferably female.
"We'll need to keep you in quarantine," said the head of the rescue team, Paulins he thought his name was. "For obvious reasons, at least until the docs can look you over."
Catherine nodded. He... no... SHE wouldn't object. Regardless of what was down there, she needed to keep her mind focused on who she truly was.
Under heavily armed guard, she was led inside and brought to side room where she sat under arm guard for the better part of an hour. Her mate had been brought to another room, and although there was a flash of a need to protect her in her mind briefly, she restrained herself. She needed to keep her instincts in check. So she waited. For that hour, no one else came to see her. No one else was allowed to see her, more likely. Finally, the head of security, Captain Martha Ranton, stuck her head in, stared at her and finally said, "This way." Catherine obeyed, and she was brought into what had been a secured storage room, but all of the supplies had been moved out. Instead, there was a large medical table with straps ready for use in the middle of the room, with several monitors nearby. Doctor Erica Martinz was standing nearby, and she gave a visible gasp when she saw Catherine enter. "Holy shit," she said in shock. "You weren't kidding." Then she shook her head. "Well, the shots kinda of worked. Though I don't know why you didn't fully transform. We'll have to figure that out. Um. Hop up."
Catherine nodded and slowly moved over to the medical examination table, and laid down. Then, her stomach growled.
Erica smiled. "I guess we can get you something to eat, but I'll be taking some samples while they get that ready." She looked to the soldiers. "I think we're fine. Step out and lock the door if you're worried. The combination is new, and he isn't going anywhere."
With a swallow, Catherine finally asked, "Does he know?"
Erica paused and looked to her, and a look of sympathy passed over her face. "Yes. He is on the medical staff. and he's waiting for the samples to be taken so he can find a way to heal you. Don't worry," she pointed up to a security camera in the corner. "He's watching now. Just give him some time to adjust. This will take a bit." And with that she started to draw blood.
Catherine closed her eyes, feeling helpless and terrified.
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Meanwhile, Private Lewis Taylor stepped into the showers to clean himself off after the end of a long excursion. His mind was still reeling from seeing that creature, watching it walk with them for three hours on their way back to the base. He couldn't believe that was Doctor Catherine Woodward. The thought made him... not shiver. He actually felt more flush.
Lewis quickly started lathering himself up and started washing as quickly as he could, though he started feeling too warm. Turning down the heat, he wiped the sweat from his brow. It was then he looked at his wrist. He had accidentally cut himself during a training exercise that morning, giving himself a minor slash across the back of his hand down over the wrist for a few inches. It was minor though, but looking at it, it appeared to be healing up quickly. Maybe it wasn't as deep as he thought. It looked like a minor cat scratch now.
After cleaning his hair, Lewis stepped out of the shower, took a towel, and started to dry himself. Then he looked himself over. His chest hair looked a little fully than usual, and he even spotted a few gray hairs. He sighed. He was in his late twenties, but he remembered seeing pictures of his father when he was younger. He had apparently turned into a gray fox by his late thirties. It looked like Lewis was inheriting the same genes.
He got dressed, although his clothes were feeling a bit tight. Plus the warmth was not going away. He hoped he hadn't burned himself. Taking a breath, he stepped out and started heading to his bunk. However he didn't get even half way. "Private Taylor." He froze and turned towards one of his commanding officers, Captain Ranton. "In my office. Debriefing."
"Yes, ma'am." He quickly obeyed and follower her into a small room with nothing more than two chairs, a desk, and two bookcases filled with titles he had never heard of before, written by both scientists and military officers.
"Close the door." He did. The room seemed even warmer than the showers now. "I don't know what the hell happened out there, but I'm getting everyone's exact eyewitness accounts on what happened out there. I want to know everything." He turned back towards her. She was sitting at her desk now. The woman was more than fifteen years older than him, and she had a way of strong-arming anything and everything her way. He respected her for that, but he also feared her. Damn, she was hot.
No! Don't think of that.
"Where would you like me to begin, captain?" he asked, standing next to the only other chair in the room. She didn't signal for him to sit, so he didn't dare.
"The whole thing. As soon as you set out."
The Private started his report, trying to focus on every detail. He covered the hunt, the finding of doctor in her current form along with the she-wolf, how he helped move the wolf into the cage, everything. All the while, the room kept feeling warmer. He had been holding his hands behind his back the whole time. But his entire body felt like it wanted to stretch. Not to mention he kept trying to keep his eyes straight ahead. It was the best way to distract himself from the strong, well-toned, woman in front of him.
Don't think of that. You have a girlfriend on base. The last thing you need to do is pop an erection in front of a superior officer.
Unfortunately, the captain stood up from her desk and walked up to him. "Was there, at any time, any signs that Doctor Woodward was not in full control of herself? Or, was there any sign that that was not Doctor Woodward?"
Damn, she was smelling so good right now.
No, he needed to focus. "I couldn't say, captain. I didn't know the doctor overly well." Why was he feeling itchy.
Frowning, the captain leaned in close. "You seem off. Are you not telling me something?"
"No, sir. I'm just... I feel...." At that point he could feel his privates against his pants. He could smell her so strongly. Even his own smell was apparent in the room.
Captain Ranton inhaled and shook her head a little. "What is that smell? What is..." She looked down and saw the tent. She laughed. "Should I be impressed, private?"
She laughed? His lips turned into a sneer. She... laughed? A flood of hormones washed through his mind, and he growled. He would show her.
With a quick lunge he grabbed her by the arms, arms that were starting to grow thicker, causing his sleeves to grow tighter and tighter. He pushed his growing body against her, forcing her back as his teeth began to feel sharp. He pressed his lips against her, and-
He couldn't even register when or how she had taken his legs out from under him, but less than a heartbeat he was on the ground with her sitting on top of him with his arms pinned over his head.
This bitch was trying to pin him! He would-
Stars covered his vision as she had headbutt him hard in the face. He lifted his head up and bit at her, scratching her slightly on the chin as she pulled back and slammed her head down onto him a second time. Her forehead bled. Meanwhile, his body continued to shift and change under her. A tail began pushing out of his pants against the floor. He had to-.
*slam* He felt pain, over and over. And then with a cry, he felt his mouth reshape out into a muzzle, but instead of being able to howl, she let go of one hand and clamped it shut. He tried to struggle with his free clawed hand, but he discovered it was pinned by his own other arm and her left wrist. He had to-.
She twisted his head sideways against the cold floor. "HEEL!"
He struggled to shift out from under her. His own clothes were tearing away, but all he could think about was both the pain and the feeling of her body on top of him. Oh the smell.
"I SAID HEEL!" she shouted and she headbutted him again and again. It hurt, but he wanted her. He had to obey. He was hers.