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Seven Months Later

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An unassuming suburb in the Ancien capital city was currently the most important location in the world for the two men who just stepped out of the chauffeur-driven sleek black sedan. One wore a suit; the other merely clad themselves in a work shirt and trousers, with equally drab shoes and an off-colour tie to match the 'cubicle worker' aesthetic he seemed to be sporting. It would be a mistake to think he wasn't important, however, and he intended to prove his worth to the better-dressed man as they left the car and walked towards a grey building at the end of the lane.

This marked the extent of the housing in the area, beyond that — and the closer they got to their destination — was devoted to small offices and yards. Safe enough for the two to hold a conversation. They spoke in their native tongue — the erudite Ancien drawl that had served their nation well for centuries...

“My my, Eli," the one in the suit said, his voice bearing the characteristic Risien panache that identified him as a native of the city, “where have they stuck you now?"

“It suits me." Eli glanced over at his compatriot as they stepped off the curb and crossed a concrete-slabbed road. Stefan really dressed up for today, he thought.

“It's so...soulless...so empty. Tell me, how do you not simply go mad working in a place like that?"

“Looks are deceiving, my friend. You, for instance..."

He looked down at his attire and laughed. “It's true." He spun around, showing off the tailorship. “This is not my usual style! But Merconne and his partners insisted on playing dress-up when one of us came to visit you."

“Did you draw straws?" Eli asked jokingly.

“Ha! It might as well have been straws. But in truth I wouldn't miss this for the world."

“We have a test lined up for your observation."

“And you have high hopes for success?"

“We'll make it successful. We've enough experience reverse-engineering the formula you provided us from your contact in the States."

“Magnifiqué!"

The door came into view. Eli moved ahead to open it. With a wave of his hand he beckoned Stefan to enter. “Come."

As he followed, Stefan was led down a flight of stairs into a basement corridor. This building was much larger than its street presence suggested, and was one of three laboratories funded and run by the company who employed them. “Aren't you nervous?" he asked, his footsteps clattering and echoing off the walls as they descended. “You have not tried it on a human subject before."

“Not nervous. Excited. Just you wait, it'll be magnificent!"

At the end of the stairs, several men in white labcoats waited from them. “My team," Eli said, walking towards them.

Once introductions were conducted, the scientists discussed advances made by the Unimericans. It wasn't public knowledge, but they were aware the agri-genetics corporation Bovinex had been successful over the years in transforming people. A fact Stefan and others kept under wraps, with a keen eye directed towards squirreling out their secrets.

“Their latest round of expansion proves they're investing heavily in this clandestine technology. It's far far more than mere agricultural development."

“They must be light-years ahead of us."

“Yes, but we can gain much ground by being the first here to develop an effective means of performing gene therapy for human hybridisation."

Eli sent his men ahead, leaving the two of them alone. “Ah...of course, 'develop'..." he mimed finger quotes.

Stefan cared little for his fellow's candour. “You know what I mean," he scowled.

“I still think you went too far."

“Bah, we wouldn't have this amazing opportunity if we tried to go it alone, and why should the Unimericans have a monopoly on this new frontier of science?"

“Makes sense, but is there any way this can be traced back to us?"

Stefan laughed, turning to his partner with a merry expression. The forceful smack as he patted Eli on the back threw him forward, almost tripping. “My friend, there's no hint of illegality on our part. My operative posed as a harmless new employee...we chose an unaffiliated Unimerican for better deniability. They hired him after he 'accidentally' involved himself in company affairs. Better to keep those who've seen too much on the payroll, no? That's what they say about friends and enemies."

Eli sputtered, winded by the strike. “Yes yes yes, I'm sure when you set him loose he performed admirably. I must meet this man of yours when available — he's done the impossible for this company."

“That, Eli, is something I cannot do."

“How so?"

They stopped at the end of the corridor. Weary eyes confronted Eli. Thick bags on Stefan's face, revealed by the flickering lamp-light in the passageway. He'd aged ten years in an instant. Drained of his optimism. The skin on his face...scarred...desiccated...all of a sudden...

“He has since been caught, was detained for several days, then liquidated." Stefan spoke in a cold manner, divorced from the gravity of what he was saying.

“Whoa whoa! Stop!" Eli grabbed Stefan and slammed him against the wall, stealing the breath from his lungs. “Are you serious? They killed him!?"

Stefan wheezed. “Did I misspeak?"

The empty nature of his response irked Eli. Corporate security had grown to become every more stringent and lacking in morals. The more their tendrils creeped into government and society, the less they cared. About anything. Par for the course in the 22nd Century.

The ruthlessness of their competitors was not to be underestimated. But that didn't mean he had to like it. “And you don't think they extracted whatever info they could before that?"

“Je m'en fous. Calm down."

“Calm dow—!?"

Stefan pushed himself away from the cold concrete, and Eli's stiff grip. Hunched over, he shook his suit jacket, casting off the dust that coated his back. The musty corridor was in a sorry state, its outer layers cracked and crumbling.

“He did his job, I expected nothing more."

“Shame," Eli hissed. Almost thought you were human. “I gather from your lack of follow-through that he didn't divulge our involvement in his spying?"

“I have it on good authority that he kept his mouth shut. They've written off the whole incident as a lone conspirator trying to rip them off. So yes...we are in the clear."

Eli's stare pierced him. Drilled through his heart with burning disdain. Stefan wiped his sleeves, but the mark of the dust persisted. Clinging to the fabric, burying itself between the fibres. The well-dressed man he left the car with died the moment they walked down those stairs. Each step along the way shed part of his facade. Gravity weighing upon his costume, tearing pieces of his mask away. With the dust-coated suit, and his exhausted visage, Stefan neared his truer self. Pale and thin. Slowly rotting to the core. This is the company I keep? The likes of murderers and thieves?

Eli broke the silence: “good."

His speech lacked any expression. Eli walked on, not bothering to check if Stefan was in tow.

* * *

“Based on the chemical analysis sent to us we have synthesised an equivalent. Our transformative serum functions on the same principles, but adapted to a new species vector. We picked something non-threatening, as large or predatory animals present an enormous problem to contain if they go feral after treatment."

“Wouldn't that be a sight to behold," Stefan mused, wondering why the scientists were so risk averse. Why not inject a little excitement into the proceedings? Bah! Like they'd even listen to him...

“This way please," Eli waved him through to a control room. The others shuffled in afterwards, assuming their stations.

An enormous glass pane stood in front of them, taking up an entire wall with is sheer size. The window was triple-reinforced bulletproof glass, surrounded by a stainless steel frame bolted into the concrete of the underground structure itself. In front of Stefan two of Eli's subordinates sat at a desk littered with cables and monitors. Numbers and letters flashing in rapid succession, bright enough to leave an intricate afterimage burned into his vision. Computers hummed all around him. Loudly. Droning, moaning, like creatures lashed to the facility — its soulless, electronic slaves. The sound was disorienting. He clasped his ears, covering them in a vain attempt to stifle it. “Can't you do anything about the noise?" he asked the room.

One scientist began to answer, but Eli silenced him with a gesture. “No," he replied sternly, “I'm afraid we need all these computers running for the test." He hid his joy well. The sight of Stefan hurting might make up for his horrible personality...might...

“Very well, I'll brave it." Stefan lowered his hands. And returned to surveying the room.

“Our man is in the chamber."

Stefan's attention was guided to the room visible through the window. Inside was a chair-like apparatus, containing an amused-looking gentleman, wearing a surgical gown and strapped to the device. This was their candidate for hybridisation.

The man smiled and waved at them. “Bonjour mes amis!"

Pale-faced, Stefan turned to his colleague.

“He can see us?"

“Of course," Eli shrugged.

“Is it not wise to make this one-way?"

“Why?"

“I—"

“You don't want him to lay eyes upon the man who made all this happen? How...humble of you."

Stefan scowled. “Just get on with it!" He looked at their test subject.

“This is Jacques." Eli explained. He then pressed the microphone button at his console, allowing him to communicate with the chamber's occupant. “Say hello Jacques."

“Hello Jacques," the man in the chair responded.

Eli grinned. “He's a funny guy."

“He's a dimwitted, uncouth moron."

“Oh, Stefan! Don't say that. You've no idea how hard it was to convince him to take part. Now you come along and spit in his face! That is low!"

“I assume he knows everything...including what can go wrong."

“Oh yes." He reactivated the microphone. “Haven't we told you all about our work, Jacques? The good and the bad." Releasing his finger, he hovered near the button, awaiting the next point of conversation.

“You have. Miseur."

Stefan took his turn on the intercom system. “You look like you're at the hairdressers! How can you act so calm? What the hell convinced you!?"

Jacques brushed his surgical gown, glancing down at the straps that held him in place. “What wouldn't convince me? I'll be a part of history! The first person in Anciennais to become a beast-man!"

Stefan turned to Eli. “Your test subject's a strange fellow."

“He's got to be," the head scientist chuckled, “to accept the job. It's not every day you have the option to...change yourself so drastically."

“Well, he wants to be part of history. So he says. Hmmm...I intend to see this through. Watch every minute of it. Give him what he wants."

“I doubt you'll be disappointed. And what's more, you'll have a wonderful recording of this event to send to Merconne." ...and the rest of the slimy shitstains running this show you call 'partners' ...

Keyboards clacked and processors thrummed_,_ breathing life into the laboratory's callous environment. A sequence of switches were flipped, the click click click of activation darted from person to person — who flinched at the sound reaching them. Each click was escorted in its aural travels by a uneasy electrical fizzling that drove one's hairs to stand on end. An eerie, unnatural sound. The scientists chatted among themselves, Eli dropping in-and-out of conversation as he managed the last flurry of activity. Stefan pulled out a chair and took his place in the centre, the vast glass portal framing his view. And what a view it would be!

* * *

“BEGIN."

Jacques seized up. From behind his seat he felt six pin-pricks. Six needles. Primed to pierce his neck and lower spine. This is it. This is what I've chosen. Words, thoughts, and memories flashed quickly in his mind's eye. Today was something new. Something he'd prepared for. And still...the fear wracked him. Sensing those six tiny spears poking his exposed body, scratching him as she struggled against the bindings in a stifled panic, drawing blood as one cut him — it made his skin crawl.

Stop. Stop it! he screamed internally, his once-steady inner monologue wavering at the reality of things. It does no-one any good if you falter now!

No...he was going to see this through. To whatever end.

“First stage: injection points ready." Eli's voice blared from the speakers in the chamber. Jacques' eyes glanced about, back-and-forth, seeing if he could catch a glimpse of the needles slowly activating in the corner of his eye. It was foolish to dwell on his immediate worry, he surmised. He'd made his bed, thus he better sleep on it — even a bed of needles. So he steeled himself, balling his hands into tight fists, digging fingernail into palm. This self-inflicted injury might offer a distraction, however meagre; alas, there was no distracting him from the crew of labcoated men in the reinforced room opposite him. Eli — the one in charge of the project — he knew, and had spoken to for many days before accepting the role of lab rat. The others were obviously under his authority. They tended to the various terminals and monitors, the cool white light of the panels illuminating their faces, turning them into freaky, ghostlike apparitions beyond the glass veil. He wanted to look away. Focus on something else. But there was nothing else to see.

Worse still, he couldn't tear his eyes from the last man in the window.

Gaunt. Hollow. Bony. Like his suit hung from his skeleton, with nothing beneath the dirty black and white attire. The one really in charge.

Come to see what you've paid for, eh?

The machines whirred.

Let's put on a show!

“AAAGGGHHH!!!" he cried out, in terrible pain, as the devices stabbed him. The needles entered his body at their assigned points, sinking three inches deep. Enough to lance his nerves — inducing agony in his system. The scientists ignored his anguished howls. Why should they care? This was part of the process. By all rights he shouldn't care, as this had all been explained to him. That didn't save him from the raw, tangible pain he was experiencing though.

Keep it together, Jacques...

“UUIIRRGGHHH!"

...couple more seconds...

There! It subsided. The hair-thin metal spears had not moved for five seconds. His body was beginning to cope. What respite from the fickle machinations of modern science he could afford he took, this being no exception.

“Injection sites secure. Jacques...you okay there?"

“I'm fine," he grunted through bared teeth.

“Second stage: applying serum."

Clear plastic tubes fed into the needle mounts. They filled with liquid, passing it along to the intravenous entry points. Two at his neck carried a translucent blue fluid, reminiscent of food-dyed water, or a prop in a cheesy science-fiction film. The bottom four supplied a different solution: opaque, cream-coloured, travelling towards the base of his spine. He felt a warmth spreading from the injection points. Flooding his body, the mixture traced his circulatory system, veins coming through faint purple on his body as the vibrant blue serum cascaded down from his neck to the rest of his body. The gown hid most of what was happening, but Jacques swore if he removed it he'd see his veins stained onto the surface of his skin with the dye, whatever its composition. The other liquid rose gradually from his lower back, tingling his sensitive nerves as it went. A burgeoning swell of sensation. Minutes passed until the supply was exhausted.

“Removing applicators."

Eli's voice signalled the next step. A sharp burst of pain accompanied the retreat of the six needles. “Gagh," Jacques coughed. The serum was within him now...spreading to every corner of his being...mixing...blending together...seeping into his organs, no, even further...his cells themselves...editing his DNA.

“Third stage."

“Third stage?" he spluttered, finding it hard to move his jaw.

Third stage...how did that one go again? He scoured every corner of his brain to find the answer, yet he'd been so stupid as to have forgotten it.

“W-what n-n-now?"

The click of the intercom told him Eli was on the line. It took a while for him to speak. When he did, there was no emotion, nothing to hint at how things were progressing.

“We wait."

Jacques groaned and let himself go limp, skull striking the headrest. The injection sites were inflamed. Only slightly. Enough to cause irritation that was noticeable. C'mon, give me something. Am I okay? Did it work?

He reckoned he was talking, producing words that they could hear, but his mouth refused his call to action. He was thinking, not speaking, only to himself.

I'm gonna transform now, right?

Will...

Will it hu—?

His train of thought was derailed as a spike of intense agony shot through him, leaving him speechless. Moaning was his last means of communication, and what a shitty one it was! Slack-jawed, ululating noises that said nothing of substance except: 'I'm in pain'.

Jacques' head was the first to experience the full brunt of the transformation. His face-bones crunched and reshaped themselves. Nose flattening and broadening, eye sockets altering their proportions to cope with the changes on the lower half of his Ancien mug. His jaw began to extend, lengthening about an inch more than before, turning more animalistic. His skull was putty in the hands of the serum as it dragged plates of bone in different directions, splitting his head beneath the skin. His ears floated free, sailing upwards on the molten mass of churning flesh and bone. His cheeks puffed out. His teeth stretched their fixtures, the front ones (top and bottom) increasing in size to support a cleaner bite. This was all without any covering, no fur had yet emerged. His audience was treated to the sight of a frightening misshapen lump co-opting the place of a human face.

The changes spread to the rest of his body, starting with his shoulders — which cracked and shifted slightly. His arms experienced few alterations, but the incessant tingling in his hand muscles signalled something was coming. As the fire and pain descended through him, his core began to slim. Ribs shortening, spine extending, organs within bubbling in the soup the serum made of his body. Nothing seemed too odd, but he did end up more slender than before.

Wait...now his arms were affected. To be precise: his hands were. Fingertips grew leathery, forming pads at each extremity. His nails narrowed, turning into miniscule pointed claws. His palms developed the same tough padding his fingers did, and the brown surface bulged, creating a cushiony grip.

Fur began to appear. Sprouting over his face, shoulders, arms, and upper chest. His hands...no...his paws...fit their final form after bushy, snow-white hairs formed a coat over his skin. The same pure colouration ran along the rest of him, outpacing the physical changes morphing his figure. Jacques was covered, head-to-toe, in fluffy white fur.

Pecs. Torso. Stomach. Waist. The transformation proceeded in that order. When it hit his waist, Jacques felt his hips pop their joints, widening his gait and filling his rear and sides with bunches of tightly-wound muscles. His body now carried a slim appearance, even after an increase in mass around his hips. A nexus of sensory confusion drew his ire away from his front, to his back, where — above his buttocks — a snub tail sprouted.

The next part was uncomfortable. More so than the others. His penis elongated, then withdrew into its base, gathering in a bulb of flesh that saw a furry sheath engulf it with excruciatingly slow speed. Its beige skin tone flipped to ruby red, tapering into a point that jutted out just enough from his new sheath to be indecent. His ball were coated in fur, like the rest of him, and filled out into near-perfect spheres.

His thighs expanded, doubling their muscle mass in mere seconds. As they did, his legs stretched, straining against the confines of his flesh until it gave way and spread with them. All his joints clicked. Knees especially — strengthening themselves for his longer legs. This was the biggest proportional difference so far, increasing to about four or five feet. Possibly longer, but Jacques wasn't in a position to pick up a measuring tape.

Most of him had stopped hurting so damn much. If he thought the process was winding down, however, he was in for a surprise!

His feet burst into a barrage of intense discomfort. Sharp, stinging sensations covered them, every muscle, tendon, and ligament completely transforming. His poor extremities fell victim to the serum's transformative properties, becoming something truly alien. They stretched, moulding into lengthy pseudo-limbs from ankle to the ball. Similar pads formed on the base, where his toes met the rest of his foot. Issuing forth a scream, he felt his little toe fuse into its neighbour, followed by the same rough padding growing over them, and his nails forged into thin claws. Giving them the look of a kangaroo's...or a hare's...

Ten more minutes of shifting soreness. That's how long it took for the transformation to completely subside. Eli's voice on the intercom boomed with an electronic hiss, and broke through his exhausted malaise, reuniting Jacques with the sorry state of the world...

“COMPLETE."

The straps released, freeing him from the apparatus. Jacques lifted his legs, placing one foot on the cold floor. His vision was blurred, obviously the process had altered his eyes too. He felt something soft and droopy flop onto the back of his shoulders as he tilted forward.

Oh God...feels so...so strange...

Putting his weight on his foot/paw, he managed to stay upright, for a couple steps.

Stumbling over the the glass observation room, Jacques slammed his paws on the pane of glass, desperate for something to prop himself up against. His modified form in full view of the scientists.

As his vision cleared, he could see Eli through the barrier. Bereft of sound yet he was sure the head scientist was proclaiming his joy. Yes, his mouth moved to shape the sentence, those immortal words: 'it worked'!

Drained of energy, he let himself fall forward, banging his head on the window. The men in labcoats were in a tizzy, overwhelmed with excitement and furiously taking notes. He looked up, matching Eli's gaze. He acknowledge him with a nod. Continuing his ocular wandering, he turned to the side and up, guided by the white-furred blur of his arm. Clarity of picture returned. Jacques caught one glimpse of his new paw and recoiled in shock, narrowly avoiding tripping up as he moved away.

He glanced down at his paw, opening it. Seeing the pads and razor-sharp claws. His brain refused to accept this as real — a likely outcome. What he couldn't ignore was the next bit...

His eyes lay once more on the observation window. He was far enough away from it for the glass to appear slightly opaque. Jacques saw, in that makeshift mirror, a thin...fluffy...long-eared...broad-footed reflection of himself. Completely naked. His sheathed junk and every other part of him on display.

The anthropomorphic rabbit stared back in hesitant surprise and uncertain awe.

Jacques was part-astonished, part-horrified. He had to say something clever, something worthy of the moment...

...

“Merde!"