Outbrea

Soft white LED tube lights filled the simple room. Within the room was a huge table lined with high walls. The room was sterile and white and even shadows were seemingly banished by the array of lights. Five black cameras watched the table, four in the corners and a large dome camera directly above.

Dr. Bowman looked up from the monitors on the table before her. She saw herself in the thick glass set in the wall separating her from the white room. She blinked her tired eyes and then massaged the bridge of her nose, pushing her stylish glasses up until they brushed her thin eyebrows. The table held a massive maze and, within the maze, a brown rat sniffed the air.

The young buck paused, seemingly to orient. A doe waited in the corner of the maze but several "rooms" of food lined the way. The doe was in heat and this was her second cycle with which the male had been exposed. He was unmated and young but also hungry.

It was a simple experiment more suited for a community college and Dr. Bowman would be insulted to be part of it if it weren't for the additional parameters. She stared at the small black cap of plastic surgically implanted into the buck's back. It was used for spinal injections and all of her rats had them.

The young male took a tentative step. His ears twitched and then he turned to stare at the camera closest to him. Dr. Bowman looked the young male in the eye. She caught herself looking for signs of intelligence in the deep black eyes. Signs of

knowing

. Sighing, she laughed quietly to herself. The trials showed increased intelligence in the subjects but nothing approaching knowledge of self or their situation.

Still, the two stared at each other and the moment stretched. The young scientist shivered and then jumped at a quiet knock on the door behind her.

"Dr. Bowman?" a muffled voice asked.

"Yes, come in Charles," Dr. Bowman answered. She stood, stretching on the toes of her white sneakers.

The door opened and one of her assistants, Charles, popped his head in.

"We're taking off for the night," he told her. "And we're going over to Piper's for a drink. It's Friday and Jen's birthday is tomorrow so we're celebrating. Do you want to come with us?"

"No, thank you Charles," Dr. Bowman said.

Too many people, too much noise and too much useless chatter about nothing important at all.

"I've got so much work to do still and I want to finish before I go home. Tell Jennifer I said happy birthday. Should I get her a card?"

"Oh, no, Dr. Bowman," Charles replied, still half-hidden behind the door. "It's okay. I'll let her know. Good luck with little Ein tonight and I'll see you Monday morning."

"Yes, I'll see you then, Charles. Goodbye."

The door closed and Dr. Bowman frowned.

Ein? Short for Einstein, I suppose?

She had her own name for the rats but had never told anyone since it seemed juvenile and embarrassing. She turned to sit back at her console and noticed the male methodically searching the maze. It so far was ignoring the food and was occasionally scratching at the walls.

"Alright, then, Charles," she whispered to the young buck. It scratched at an outer wall, scraping white paint with its little claws before sitting back to stare at what it'd done. "What're you doing now?"

What was more surprising to her was that he was next to the female. The unmodified doe ran in little circles with its ears trembling. Charles ran to the room containing the female. Dr. Bowman expected him to hit the little "open" switch with his nose but he stood outside the hatch, chittering. He then ran back to the wall and tapped it with his claw while his ears twitched.

"Fascinating," Dr. Bowman breathed. Her eyes flicked to the corner of the screen to make sure she was recording (a hold over from years ago when things were done more manually - everything was recorded all the time now) and so she caught a tiny email notification window. She clicked to her email while watching Charles scratch at the wall. "Are you trying to

talk

to her, Charles?"

Dr. Bowman glanced at her email and then frowned. It was from the director, Dr. Stevens, and he rarely talked to her. Her frown deepened at the subject line:

Human trials.

With a double-click she opened the email.

Dr. Bowers,

I'd heard the new batch is testing well in simulation with the infusion from Dr. Bowman's rats. I'm afraid we have to push up the timeline as our investors are growing impatient. I will find subjects. Meet me tomorrow morning on the eastern campus.

Dr. Stevens

With a frown and her brow knitted in confusion, Dr. Bowman tapped her lips. She'd never heard of Dr. Bowers or her rats being used for anything behind her tests. She kept strict control over the rats to prevent outside influences and all of her logs were up-to-date. They were kept in supervised cages with limited access and the org chart placed Dr. Stevens far away and above her department.

Dr. Bowman hit reply and typed a reply.

Dr. Stevens,

I'm afraid you must've accidentally emailed the wrong person!

Also, I'm not sure but did you mean my rats or does Dr. Brown have their own? If mine, I'm afraid there must be some mistake.

Thank you for your time,

Dr. Bowman

Just before she hit "Send" another email appeared: an email recall notification from Dr. Stevens. She'd already opened the email and knew it wouldn't work so Dr. Bowman sent her reply. While she waited for an answer, she browsed to the logs for her rats.

Dr. Bowman gasped, pressing her small hands to her chest as the power went out. Small hairs raised on the back of her neck and she stood quickly as her heart hammered in her chest.

"Okay," she whispered to herself. "Okay. You're okay, Trish. You're okay."

She made her way to the door while her eyes adjusted to the dark. The angular handle for the door clicked when she bumped into it and she swallowed nervously, pressing it down to step into the hallway.

Faint red lights glowed ominously along the corridor. She blinked and turned left, her slim fingers sliding along the wall. Dr. Bowman pushed through the double doors leading into a small, empty reception area. Her eyes adjusted well to the dim, reddish light and she carefully made her way towards the exit.

After a few minutes that seemed to drag into hours, Dr. Bowman found the lobby and immediately covered her eyes against a harsh glare blinding her.

"Dr. Bowman?" A voice called out. The voice seemed vaguely familiar.

"Yes, that's me. Can you put your light down? It's terribly bright." She walked to the voice and saw three vague figures through the light. Finally close enough, she recognized Dr. Stevens standing behind two security guards.

"Oh, Dr. Stevens! Is everything-"

"Grab her!" Dr. Stevens yelled. "Hold her!"

The light dropped and Dr. Bowman stepped back, her mouth open. Hard fingers gripped her and pulled her down to the ground. Her breath left her in a painful rush and she tasted blood from biting her tongue. Her ears rang and she spat blood when she tried to talk.

"Hold her down," Dr. Stevens hissed. "Grab her legs and keep her back steady. Don't let her move."

Dr. Bowman kicked and bucked her hips when she felt hands against her legs. One of the hands moved, pressing against her lower back and she squirmed in place. Cold hands along along her back, pulling up her sweater and lab coat.

"What-" Dr. Bowman coughed and spat. "What are you doing? Please, I'm Dr. Bowman! I work under Dr.-"

White hot pain bloomed in Dr. Bowman's back as a needle slid through her skin. The young doctor screamed and nearly choked on the blood in her mouth. Veins stood out on her neck and forehead and she strained, gritting her teeth against the pain. The heat from her spine quickly spread through her body, burning as it consumed her from the tips of her ears to her toes. Sweat broke out along her forehead and back.

"There, I'm done," Dr. Stevens said from behind her. "Restrain her and bring her along for observation."

No, no no no no!

Dr. Bowman screamed in her head. She twisted, screeching in the near darkness and her muscles trembled. With a sharp twist, she threw one of the men and pulled herself up into an instinctive defensive crouch.

"Fuck! Grab her you idiot!" Dr. Stevens screamed. "Grab her!"

One of the security guards stood before her, rocking slightly left and right, waiting to see which way she'd run. Tricia Bowman twitched and trembled in fear, her eyes darting around the room. Her heart raced painfully in her chest and she hyperventilated.

The man lunged and Dr. Bowman twisted, leaping for him. She screamed in a high pitched screech and her nails slashed against the man's throat. Blood sprayed the air and the man clapped his hands to his throat. The young woman continued her jump, rolling into another crouch when she landed. She looked over her shoulder to see the second security guard and Dr. Stevens running toward her.

Dr. Bowman turned and fled down a hallway as Dr. Stevens yelled behind her. She turned left blindly and jumped as lights began flashing in the hallway. The young woman squeaked, sliding along the floor as a large security gate slammed down in front of her. She pressed off of the wall and

pushed

running quickly down a side corridor.

Yellow lights strobed, mixing with the red backup power lights to turn the entire building a garish palette of colors mixed deep shadows. She pressed herself against the wall, eyes darting left and right.

Calm, calm, calm. Oh god. Oh god did I kill that man?

Dr. Bowman looked at her hand. Blood slicked her fingers and palm, already drying into a sticky mess. She slid up against the wall and strained to listen for the men. Her back was on fire and even the cold walls did little to soothe the pain. The injection site throbbed in a rapid fire tempo that matched her heartbeat.

The young woman closed her eyes and listened. The ridges within her ears moved, pressing smooth and flat and forcing the small rounded tops of her ears to slide through her short brown hair as they elongated. They trembled as she strained to listen.

Sharp stabbing pains bloomed in her ears as small bones crunched loudly within. Dr. Bowman hissed and pressed her palms against her ears, rubbing them fiercely. Her fingers touched the edge of her ears and she froze.

"What- What is-" Dr. Bowman stuttered quietly. She slid her small fingers along her ears, feeling the smooth, flat skin. As she touched the soft, silky skin within her ears, the skin dented, folding slightly. She rubbed the thin skin between her fingers again and again, not believing what she felt.

Agony.

Dr. Bowman fell to her knees and then her side, twisting and kicking, scrabbling against the floor. It'd felt like someone was trying to rip the spine from her body. She moaned, grinding her teeth until the pain diminished. Carefully, slowly, she reached around to feel her back. Sweat covered her skin and she felt a small bump where the needle had pierced her skin. The entire area burned to the touch.

Something poked against Dr. Bowman's finger. She explored it tenderly and felt it slide against her finger. She pinched it and pulled, feeling it grab against her skin. Something else tickled her fingers. The young woman stopped and slid her hand against her spine, shivering at the sensation.

Dr. Bowman's fingers slid through a light coating of fur sprouting along the sweat-slick skin of her back.

Her mind blanked as her hand rubbed over and over and over and over. The fur was growing in a thick patch and now she could run her hands through it. She

felt

it sliding against her body as it grew, trapped by her sweater and coat. She shivered again and bit back a moan as her nipples tightened from the feeling of her fur sliding against her slick skin.

Voices echoed through the building and Dr. Bowman's ears twitched, swiveling to catch the sounds. She ground her teeth, fighting the tickling pleasure growing in her chest.

"Human trials," Dr. Bowman whispered. She touched her right ear again.

It couldn't be possible but what else was it?

she asked herself. She couldn't see herself but she knew the way her ears felt and she could picture them and with the fur...

The voices warbled in her still growing ears and she pushed herself to her feet. Her sweater was tight against her body and she could smell her wet fur. The young woman wrinkled her nose in reflex but then raised her chin and sniffed. It wasn't an unpleasant smell. It was her but

stronger

as the fur trapped her scent.

She shrugged her shoulders, working her arms until her lab coat slid to the ground. She was overheating and still felt too hot even without the coat. And she itched terribly as her fur scratched her skin and the sweater. She shifted, hissing quietly while she reached back to scratch herself.

Dr. Bowman moaned again, clawing at the fur of her back. She nearly drooled as she scratched along her skin and fur.

"O..er here... saw," voices came to her jumbled. Dr. Bowman hissed loudly and then hunched, pressing her hand against the wall. Black cameras watched her in the corners, their normally bright red lights flashing a weird pink color. She spared a quick glance at them before moving.

The building was gigantic and multi-leveled and she was in an area she wasn't familiar with. She walked quickly but carefully, blinking up at the dark gray lights lining the ceiling. The yellow lights were a dull amber and she pinched her nose.

The lights were red and yellow. Red and bright yellow.

Red.

"My glasses," she whispered. She stopped and looked around, her ears twitching in frustration until she realized she couldn't remember when she'd lost them. Despite the dull colors around her, she found her eyesight had improved. She could read the large letters at the end of the hallway that told her she was in "LAB 02".

"... here..." Dr. Stevens said far away.

Dr. Bowman ran, her fingers trailing along the wall. She turned a corner and her nails bulged as small claws pierced her fingertips, scratching against the thin paint covering the wall. She snatched her hand back as she turned another corner. Mumbling to herself, she massaged the aching joints of her hand until she found an empty room.

She darted into the room, closing the door as quietly as she could. She could feel her skin crawling along her back beneath the sweater as muscles moved. The fur shifted and then she stumbled as her hips went completely numb.

Cold sweat broke out along Dr. Bowman's arms and legs. Nausea swirled in her stomach and she leaned against the wall inside the room. She slipped her hand into the band of her slacks, feeling cold, slick skin against her feels. Her hip was dead to her touch, as if she were touching a slab of meat. The young woman massaged her hips and ass until tiny pinpricks answered her touch. The numbness wore off with a dull ache throbbing deep within her hips.

Dr. Bowman's hand stopped at a small bulge at the base of her spine. Her breath caught and she pressed slightly, feeling the skin move. She could feel small, hard bones shifting just beneath the surface of the skin. The bulge swelled beneath her fingers and the skin seemed to harden near the tip. Short hairs surrounding the bulge tickled her. She touched the hairs, tracing them up the small of her back. They thickened beneath her fingers in a line, joining with the tuft growing over the spine. She stopped when she felt her claws scrape against her skin.

She snatched her hand away to stare at it. The joints of her finger felt inflamed and she flexed them before stretching them open. Dark black claws tipped each of her fingers with sharp points. The young woman hissed through her teeth as her right hand spasmed. She heard bones crack and the skin moved. Her fingers lengthened. Tiny dark black spots suddenly appeared on the back of her hand and her eyes widened as hairs sprouted.

Fur

, she told herself, watching as it grew slowly down her forearm. She pulled her sleeve back and twisted her arm back and forth until a sharp hot pain flared in her hand and she clenched, making a fist. Muscle bulged in her forearm before disappearing beneath a thin coating of black fur. She shivered, feverish as her other hand began to grow into a freakish semblance of a rat's paw. Thick, rough flesh bubbled from the palm of her hand.

The loud sharp crash of glass breaking jerked Dr. Bowman to attention. Her long, folded ears trembled and a small squeak escaped her lips.

"Have to move," she told herself. "Have to move. There has to be a way out."

The young woman panted as she opened the door and entered the hallway. She felt like she was burning up and her sweat-soaked sweater clung to her body, restricting her breathing. The stub of her tail flicked as she moved, running in a crouch until she was sure nobody had seen her. She grabbed at the collar of her sweater, pulling it to release heat. The cool air slipped inside and she groaned.

With a quick glance, Dr. Bowman pulled at her shirt. She twisted and squirmed and squeaked as she worked it off of her with awkward, long fingers. Her claws kept catching and tearing at the fabric until it was dotted with holes. She flung the sweater and it smacked wetly against the wall.

Dr. Bowman sighed happily, crouching down to her hands and feet, stretching her small, lightly furred body. She shook herself, flinging sweat from the fur of her back like a dog. She hunched on her knees to run her hands through her hair and down along her back where she could reach. Over and over she cleaned herself while her mind raced.

There has to be a way out of here,

she thought. Her upper lip bulged slightly and holes opened in the skin. Two slick whiskers sprouted from her lip and she rubbed at them, licking the furry back of her hand before sliding it along her lip and cheek. More whiskers grew forth and she rubbed them, too.

The warehouse! It has a loading dock!

She stopped and looked around, trying to figure out where she was in the building. Dark hars slid from the skin around her belly button. The hairs sprouted in a lazy line down, disappearing into her pants and then even more slowly up the middle of her chest. She scratched idly at them with her short claws.

A lot of labs around me,

she noticed, remembering the writing on the wall. She tilted her head back and sniffed the air. Cartilage creaked within her nose and she sneezed, violently and her nasal bone snapped. Tears of pain filled the young woman's eyes and she pressed her fingers tenderly against her nose. Her gums began to ache with a dull heat.

Bones within her face seemed to snap and move and she tasted dull copper at the back of her throat. Dr. Bowman gently leaned forward to press her forehead against the ground, groaning through the pain blooming in her jaw. Her eyes and nose burned as her jaw

stretched

, growing out into a short muzzle with the slow groaning of bones. Dr. Bowman sneezed again and spat blood.

"F- Furrck!" Dr. Bowman cried out, blinking through her tears. She explored her odd new mouth carefully, feeling the gaps between her teeth. The tip of her tongue touched her front teeth. She could feel the two front teeth slowly fusing together and, when she licked at her bottom front teeth, she felt a large, single tooth that had replaced them. It scraped against her front tooth as it elongated.

Grinding her front teeth brought relief and she felt a wild urge to bite and chew and gnaw.

A chair. The leg of a chair. All wood,

she told herself. She knew her rats; knew their habits. Their need to sharpen their teeth. She felt it deep in her core now. She

hungered

for it in a strange way and her mouth watered.