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The Muscle Effect - Audacity

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Heh, again sponsored by the kind Sanmer who wanted to see more of this story, and I'm glad to be back in it after such a long pause. I hope you still find this one interesting, and I look forward to your feedback as usual!

Cheers!

*

Doctor Spencer Gorman was sitting in his office at the campus medical center, relaxing in his high-backed chair between appointments, paws folded behind his neck so that he could sit comfortably, even if the sleeves of his white coat had the tendency to fall down along his arms. That was a small issue, however, and did not disturb him from watching at his computer screen, angled so that nobody suddenly entering the room could not see it - for reasons of patient security, of course, so that their information wasn't visible for anyone who wasn't meant to see it.

Right now the screen showed a high definition, full color image from a feed labeled "BATHROOM-01" and upon its slightly angled fish eye view, the young wolf was standing in front of the bathroom mirror and staring at himself. The tiger's eyes studied the view curiously through his own spectacles, tail flicking about while he observed their latest test subject.

He glimpsed at the clock on the wall and decided there was enough time, and picked the phone. The number only rang two times before it was answered, by the very voice that made his heart leap so powerfully, even after all these years.

"It's me," the tiger spoke onto the paw set. "Can you talk?"

"Yes," came the dog's reply.

"He has awakened," the tiger said, "he's discovered the message and the luliberin tablets."

"How is he?" the German Shepherd sounded excited, though trying to keep it in check.

"Anxious, I would say," the tiger mused, looking at the wolf's swinging, jittery tail on the spy camera view. "He seems to be experiencing some dysphoria at the moment, and fatigue, I would say."

"Nothing out of the ordinary, then?"

"Not as far as we know, but have to remember that he is only the third subject of the new formula," the tiger replied. "It's hard to tell with such a small statistic selection."

"I know, Spencer, of course I do."

"When are you going to call him?" Doctor Gorman asked.

"In the afternoon, once I'm out of work. I have a lecture coming up in ten minutes, so I must be off soon."

"I have another patient coming in as well," the tiger said. "We have to reconvene at another hour."

"We must, yes."

"Alright, see you soon," the tiger said. "Love you."

"I love you too, hun," the dog rumbled. "See you."

The tiger couldn't help but smile, as he put the phone down, and watched the live video feed for a few moments further before he turned it off and and Alt-Tab-bed the keyboard to bring up the EPR system for a Dwight, Giselle, complaints of menstrual pains. The doctor re-gathered his wits and hit the intercom button.

"Send the next one in, please," Doctor Gorman spoke in his most professional voice to the admissions nurse.

"Yes, Doctor, right away."

But his heart wasn't in it, not today, when there was so much to do.

*

Shawn showered, which did little to abate his erection, wrapped a towel around himself, and dragged himself back to the living room. The box with the pill bottles was still lying next to the bed and caught his attention, making his ears snap back and forth. He wanted to kick it, to send all those stupid pills flying all over the room, but kept himself back. Even trying to bend over to pick it up caused such an ache in his back that Shawn gave up that effort and simply shuffled into the living room come kitchen of the small studio apartment. His stomach churned with emptiness, and even though he didn't really feel hungry, he knew that he should eat something to prevent a blood sugar crash in the near future.

He yanked the fridge open, grabbed the carton of orange juice, and put it down onto the table. He took a banana from the fruit bowl, and found two slightly dried breakfast rolls from the bread box.

Shawn sat down to eat, and drank juice straight from the carton, too. He was finding his appetite, slowly but surely, and had soon devoured one of the roll, crumbs falling everywhere while he chomped on the bread.

"Uhgh," the wolf grumbled when the bread was gone. He wanted more.

He peeled the banana and it disappeared into his stomach along with large gulps of the sweet juice, followed by the roll in a series of big bites. Afterwards he licked his lips and brushed some of the crumbs away from his muzzle, and even licked them off his fingers.

"Humph," Shawn rubbed his stomach, through the sore abdominal muscles underneath his shaggy fur. The motion took him close to his sheath which had finally decided to go to sleep for now. Just looking down to his towel-covered groin made him remember the flashes of pleasure from last night, how he had struggled against what seemed like an invisible force stimulating his body, one orgasm after another wracking his body as he climaxed blindingly all over himself.

Now his stomach felt wrong, and he started to feel nauseous. Was it the fact he'd been eating too fast, or some sort of an after-effect, or the imagined globs of cum gushing all over his sweaty chest like last night, while those two perverts were watching him and getting so worked that they were soon fucking on the goddamn floor?

Shawn leaned his elbows on the tabletop and rubbed his temples, letting out a grumble. It all seemed like a dream, one particularly strange one where nothing really made sense. He still wasn't 100% committed to agreeing with himself that it was all true, that it'd really happened like he seemed to remember it. Supermen and horniness factors and sexual frenzy and promises of millions of dollars if he agreed to help his mild-mannered professor and his secret gay tiger lover with their mad scientist experiments?

Right.

He was beginning to feel restless, despite his body feeling like shit, and his stomach bloating and churning. He also felt tired, too, physically, at least, which made his movements seem even more sluggish than before.

The wolf drank the rest of his juice and left it on the kitchen table when he shuffled into the bedroom, where he'd left his laptop last morning, and climbed into bed, computer over his towel-covered thighs. He adjusted his back on the pillows and waited for the computer to load itself up from its sleep.

He opened Google and sat there for a moment, wondering on what to look up. The tip line for the FBI where one could give away mad scientists? The CIA? NSA? The White House? Where did they deal with this kind of stuff?

Nah. They'd probably re-direct the call to the nearest mental hospital, anyway, and considering that his medical records were filed under a certain Doctor Spencer Gorman, there would never be a shortage of incriminating evidence should someone ever want to get him thrown into the looney bin, Shawn thought with a growl.

He huffed and typed in "GOVERNMENT SECRET SUPER SOLDIER PROJECT and hit "Enter" to see what came up. A few minutes of browsing told him that the Mormon church controlled the US government through lizardmen, that George W. Bush had personally ordered the WTC strikes to get more money for his secret plan to colonize the centre of the Earth, and that Harry S Truman had conspired with Doctor Mengele to create super-Americans capable of withstanding nuclear radiation by crossbreeding them with chimpanzees for reasons Shawn couldn't really understand.

"Yeah, right," Shawn chortled.

He decided to try "MUSCLE GROWTH CHEMICAL" but the results were almost as terrible as those before and consisted of workout tips and ads for some rather dubious exercise regimes and nutritional supplements imported from Mexico.

"This is bullshit," the wolf growled. Obviously he would have to have much more specific searches if he wanted to find anything that didn't involved the Illuminati or the like.

He rested his paws on the edge of the laptop, trying to recall anything the two madmen had told last night. He could remember the dog's long tirade, describing the history of the alleged superman serum, but it all seemed like a jumble of scientific terms and names and dates and smug self-serving remarks about his own brightness that it was hard to even think where to start.

There was something, though, he decided, though it required the somewhat painful task of getting down to the floor long enough to scoop the drug bottles up to the bed so that he could use them for reference when he looked them up online. This brought much more satisfying results - the temazepam tablets for the muscle spasm checked out as being rather non-suspicious, just something for pain and anxiety. The other tablets, however, brought out articles mired in biochemical terminology that made him wrack his brain for explanations. "Trophic peptide hormone" was barely within his level of biochemical literacy, and it went on to describing how this mysterious "gonadotrophin-releasing hormone" was responsible for telling the other glands in the body to produce hormones such as testosterone, the stuff that made boys boys, and the stuff that made girls girls.

He found it puzzling - why would they want him to take drugs that seemed like they were meant for some sort of infertility treatments, to boost up the hormones of the body? He had no trouble remembering his oversexed state from last night, how the sexual tension had become unbearable before he'd had orgasms almost spontaneously from very little external stimulation, to get that release his body craved for? Did they think he wasn't horny enough?

Shawn grunted. His cock had finally calmed down, and he wondered whether this was going to be happening a lot now that the professor and the doctor had messed around with him. Who knew what sort of horrifying after effects all this shit could be doing on him...now that he mostly had to concede that it probably had really happened, as fantastic as it was.

It was practically...phantasmagoric.

The wolf harrumphed and brushed a paw through his head furs.

Nobody would ever believe him, if he were to tell them that something happened to him. The whole premise was outrageous, and even though he was sure that it did happen for real...he could never make anyone believe it.

Not even John.

He glanced around the room, quickly, to finally locate where he had dropped his phone before. The fox...that sweet fox...he might call any time, he thought, especially since he hadn't heard of him him in a while. The fox could get worried and a bit anxious, too...he felt a pang of guilt for that, in general, and for the fact that he might have done as much even now.

"Shit."

He put the computer down to the bed and dragged himself off his mattress long enough to fetch his abandoned phone. There were no new calls or new messages, no mysterious vaguely threatening orders to be a good boy and pop pills and wait for further instructions. The most he learned from getting his phone so far was a reminder that it was past 1 in the afternoon. He'd been sleeping for a long time, he realized.

With sore fingers, Shawn browsed through the recent calls and tapped "JOHN" on the screen and put the phone up to his ear.

It picked up after two beeps, and the voice coming through the line made his heart leap, finally in a good way.

"Hey!" the fox chirped. "How're you sweets?"

Shawn swallowed hard.

"Hey...I've been..sleeping..." he said.

"Had trouble sleeping during the night?" the fox's voice was thick with concern, which didn't surprise Shawn in the least. "Did it go late at the lab?"

His stomach churned again, even thinking about it.

"Pretty late, yeah, and then I just...looked at some school stuff and went to bed...sorry I haven't been around on the phone or anything."

"Oh, well that's what I thought, your message said it was going to be very late and I didn't want to wake you up, so...yeah,heh" the fox sounded almost bashful.

Those bastards, Shawn thought. Mixing John up in this business by sending him a text from HIS phone under his name, claiming that John had simply been caught up in Professor Harvey's laboratory. It had happened before.

It made perfect sense, and that's why Shawn felt sick.

"Yeah, something like that," he said, "still, sorry I haven't been around. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm at the cafe, study group, heh, and no, you're not interrupting me!"

Shawn bit back his apology, and even managed a little smile.

"Okay."

"I was thinking of dropping by later today if you feel like it, would four be alright? I've got this study group until 2 and then the work group but I should be free after that unless Diggings keeps us going overtime like he sometimes does. So if you're up to it..."

Shawn wasn't sure whether he could face John now, feeling so awkward in his own body, and so damn sore. The memories of the last night were such a mess in his mind as well, and he wasn't quite sure how to process it all, the experience, and his anger towards the two madmen who'd decided it'd be a good idea to inject him with their super sex serum, or whatever the fuck it was called.

"Well, I'm a bit tired..." he started, but decided that upsetting the fox was not going to help neither of them at all, "but I'd love it if you came over, yeah, please."

"Well if you're sure that you're up to it, I could definitely come by around four, I'd really like to hang out."

"I'd like that too," Shawn replied. "Really much."

"Well...see you then?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you're okay? You should really tired."

Shawn swallowed again.

"Just a bit tired. Haven't gotten anything done really today so that's a bit of a bummer but tomorrow's another day, right?"

"That's the spirit!" the fox sounded cheerful. "See you then."

"Yeah, seeya."

"Love you!" the fox said.

Shawn swallowed hard.

"Love you too."

*

In the university biochemistry building, Professor Elliott Harvey watched the wolf pace around his apartment, on his computer screen, when there was a knock on the door.

The German Shepherd's instinct was to close the spy window and assume his best professional air before announcing a crisp "Come in!" to the door, though he had a very good guess on who it might be.

"Afternoon!" a very much smiling Spencer Gorman purred on his way in, even using his tail to flick the door shut behind him as he entered into the dog's office.

"Hey!" the dog replied with his own grin.

They nuzzled, a little awkward because of the angle caused by the seated dog and the cat leaning over him, but they managed, enjoying each other's scent briefly.

"Did you call yet?"" the tiger returned to business quite soon, though his breaths were still edged with purrs.

"No, I thought it'd be nicer if you were here as well," the dog replied. "We are in this together, after all."

"Oh, indeed, and as his physician, it might help him to hear me as well," the tiger sounded convinced of that. "Do you have him on?"

The dog Alt-Tabbed the window back over to the desktop and resumed the stream, which looked like a bizarre combination of CCTV footage and a live broadcast from the Big Brother house, what's with the angle and the nervous inactivity visible on the wolf on the screen.

"What has he been up to?" Gorman asked. "I haven't been able to watch much."

"He's showered, eaten, fooled around on the computer for over an hour as far as I know," Elliott replied. "I watched some of the recorded material on fast forward about half an hour ago. He appears somewhat restless, and he was just on the phone with whom I presume to be his partner."

"Yes, a John," the tiger smiled. "He's apparently a very caring young man. He's been very helpful with Shawn's depression."

"He is very lucky for that," the dog opined.

"Has he been taking the luliberin?" Doctor Gorman asked.

"No," the dog shook his head. "He hasn't taken anything, neither what you prescribed nor anything else."

"He needs to take the luliberin to stabilize the hypothalamus-pituitary-gonadal axis," the tiger replied, sounding concerned. "If he doesn't, his hypothalamus will be producing great deal of gonadotropin-stimulating hormone and - "

"I know, Spencer," the German Shepherd replied, cutting him off gently, "I know very well. The body doesn't know what to do either with the huge amount of hormones or with the sudden lack thereof when the transformation depletes the testosterone supplies. That's why taking the luliberin both raises the testosterone level to normal and helps the brain to get back into normal function by limiting the natural hormone production."

"Well I couldn't have put it better than that" the tiger mused.

"You can tell him on the phone when we call him," the dog said, eyeing the sight of the wolf moving out of the view from the bedroom, which prompted him to click on one of the icons to bring "LIVING AREA-01" feed into the screen, upon which the wolf was just coming into the line of sight as the star of their very strange variety of private reality TV.

"Has he been showing many after effects of peripheral and central activation?" the tiger asked, he too following the wolf's pacing on the screen.

"Lethargy, restlessness, presumed myalgia, persistent spontaneous erections..." the wolf listed out. "No attempts to...alleviate them as far as I know."

"He's got sensitivity issues due to his medication and depression," the tiger replied clinically. "I am not surprised he has not felt like...taking the issue to his own paw."

"Maybe he intends to have his boyfriend help?" the dog suggested.

The tiger flicked a curious hear.

"Oh, perhaps, perhaps," the doctor mused, "though that remains to be seen..."

"I'm not sure when he will be there, they talked on the phone but obviously the audio system only picks up what Shawn is saying, of course."

"We should have tapped the phone," the tiger tugged on his mane quickly.

The dog chuckled.

"Unfortunately we didn't have time for that, besides installing the wireless cameras in his apartment," he said, "I think we're well on our way into spying our subject as we are."

"Hmm...yes..." said the tiger, looking at the wolf wandering about his apartment in only boxers and a T-shirt.

"So, based on what you know about their relationship, do you think he's going to try to tell his boyfriend about what happened?" the German Shepherd asked from the tiger, his own confidant, lover, colleague, his...complement.

The tiger shrugged.

"I doubt it."

"He already lied on the phone," the dog said, "he said he'd just been at work late and then spent a long time in bed. He didn't mention anything untoward."

"Maybe he plans to tell face to face," Doctor Gorman proposed.

The dog shrugged.

"And what would dear John think?"

The tiger shook his head.

"He'd think Shawn in insane," he said, "that's why we know he won't tell anyone about the experiment, because nobody would believe it. It's too preposterous. Hell, even I didn't believe you, until I saw it, didn't I?"

"Indeed..." the dog brushed the tiger's thigh, briefly, because he could, needing the assurance of his physical presence.

"Hence, our audacity shall be our defense," Gorman said. "I'm sure he will be very angry with us when you call him,but...what else can we do?"

"Nothing," the dog replied. "It is entirely what we have to do. And it will be the best for all of us. For Shawn, and us as well. He'll be fine."

"Yes..." the tiger said, looking at the shape of the wolf pacing on the screen. "And if everything goes well, better than fine."

"The best," Professor Harvey said.

*

Thank you for reading! I hope you had a good time, and I look forward to your comments!