Nate sat down on the cold, tiled floor of his cage, feeling utterly humiliated. That man thought he wasn't toilet trained, not housebroken. How utterly offensive, thought Nate. Thinking about what he said only enraged Nate further.
"Don't wear clothes? I ran around all last night in a tattered pair of jeans, I'll have you know!" he yelled out. "And for your information, I am housebroken...you demented asshole."
"I'm sure you think you are, pup." replied Dr. Billson.
"And that's another thing, quit calling me pup."
"Heh, whatever you say. Now, you must excuse me, I have to go prepare to welcome my honored guests," said Dr. Billson.
"What guests?"
"I invited several members of the Press Corps. to come and witness your transformation tonight."
"What?! No, you can't! The only reason I transformed last night was because of that soda! Please, let me out of here! I'll be humiliated!" pleaded Nate.
"Oh, you'll transform my boy. I guarantee that. In a couple short hours, it will begin as the sun sets and night falls," said Professor Billson as he left the room.
As the hours passed, Nate sat in a corner of the cage, curled up as he watched television crews and reporters file in and fill up row after row of seats. Beyond them, he looked outside through the windows at the back of the hall. It was slowly growing darker out.
He began to feel hotter and sweat started to develop on his forehead. He heart started to beat faster. He looked down at his arms and legs. His heart leapt when he saw tiny brown hairs growing out, all over.
Oh god, he thought, He was right...I am going to change again. What have I done to myself?
Professor Billson walked into the room. "Good evening everyone! I have here with me the biological discovery of the century. Something we all told ourselves couldn't possibly exist. In a few short moments, you will be the first to witness a genuine, actual werewolf transformation."
"Are you serious? You can't possibly expect us to believe this?" asked one reporter.
Nate let out a large cry as he felt the transformations his body was going through intensify. The professor didn't bother to answer the reporter as everyone was transfixed on the cage, and Nate inside.
Some of the more daring reporters cautiously approached the cage, wanting to get an up close view of the transformation. They watched as the changes overtook Nate, as his feet stretched and reformed into digigrade paws, as long, sharp claws grew, as his ears stretched to a point and shifted up his head. Dense, brown fur grew over his body as his muscles swelled and reformed. He cried out again as his chest barreled out and his snout slowly grew from his face.
Nate slowly rose to his feet and stared down the press members. He let out a fierce growl and lept at the cage wall. He clung to the wall, shaking it violently as he continued to let out growl after growl. He was angry and was going to show the professor how dangerous he really could be. The press quickly backed off, terrified.
The poor welding on the corners gave way and the barred wall fell to the tiled floor with a loud crash. The Press Corps screamed and made a stampede for the exits, trampling some in the process. Nate had only one target in mind, Professor Billson. Nate quickly advanced on the professor, grabbing him as he tried to run for his office. He lifted Billson up by his white lab coat and stared at him in his beady little eyes.
Billson looked into Nate's amber eyes, beyond the fur and fangs and felt nothing but terror. He couldn't believe how wrong he was. He also looked different than the previous night, as if the rage Nate felt towards the professor caused him to become and even stronger, fiercer, nastier wolf than the previous night. Nate watched with delight as Billson squirmed and cried out, pleading to Nate not to hurt him. Nate sunk his teeth into the Professor's shoulder and then tossed him across the room.
Nate ran across the room and out one of the exits into the cool evening air. He let out a loud howl and ran off into the night, watching as the press sped off in their cars and vans.