The Girl From Niogh

Sirens. Ali pressed her back against the walls.

Not for us. Please god, not for us.

She heard the drones dropping down into the alley, their unique screech sending a chill up her spine. The red light of their scanners sent rats scurrying and the people of the Niogh district hurrying after them. Ali needed to move. Doors on either side of the alley slammed and locked. She looked a few feet ahead of her and saw Hefley. His scrawny neck craned out into the red light, trying to see where the Wrenches would land. The low scream of their landing craft grew louder by the second.

We can't stay here.

"Hef! We're four blocks from the Low Gate." She didn't bother lowering her voice. The Wrench could know where they hid. They wouldn't be followed. Hefley's wide eyes turned to her, and she was struck, not for the first time, by the similarity between her friend and the rats rushing over her feet.

They broke out from the alley wall, running full sprint. A few of the "honorable" citizens of Niogh screamed and pointed at them, demanding the drones follow the true criminals rather than persecute the good workers. Bent backs, bloody fingers, and lungs full of dust, they still coveted their small slice of safety. Their screams went unheard, though, not that they were needed. A drone centered itself behind Ali and followed with an uncanny ease as her feet pounded through the muck.

The Low Gate led down into the sewers, and the Wrenches didn't go into the sewers. Sometimes, they tried to burn out the people living down there, but even that was risky. The Wrenches had it too easy to risk being dragged down into the dark with the sort of people who couldn't even brave daylight any more. Ali didn't know how many raids she'd seen in her twenty years living on the streets, but in every one of them, she'd heard the sneers of disgust from the faceless men. Setting one of their polished boots on the ground in Niogh was insult enough.

No, we'll be safe in the Low Gate.

They rounded a corner, Hefley taking a sudden sharp turn in a silly effort to evade the drone. Ali heard its engine buzz slightly, almost in irritation as it easily course corrected and stayed only a few feet behind them. Her legs ached, and a painful stitch crawled up her right side. The air in Niogh was bad in small breaths and nearly suffocating in big gulps. Another turn, and they saw the Low Gate. Hefley slipped, his foot skidding forward as the rest of his body lurched sideways. He went down with a hard crack, hitting his shoulder on the broken pavement. Ali stopped, grabbing him by his free arm and hurling him back to his feet. Above them, the ship's tones sounded, deep brass noises blared out of speakers for no purpose other than to instill fear. Floodlights hit the street around them, and they started running again.

The Low Gate was fifty meters away when Hefley stopped. His hand shot out to the side as Ali kept running forward. His forearm struck across her chest, a dull pressure that took the wind out of her. Hefley cried out in pain as Ali dropped to the ground. Her back slammed into the pavement and then a gnarled, bare foot cracked into her side. Hefley stood over her, his eyes filled with terror. "I'm sorry. They won't follow if they catch someone," he said, then broke out in a run.

Tears streamed down Ali's face as she rolled onto her side. She could see the boots moving toward her from the other end of the street. The Low Gate groaned as it opened and clanged as it slammed shut. She managed to get one last look at the terrified face of the young man she'd known her whole life. The man who had betrayed her at the end. She didn't blame him, not exactly. Fear makes people into animals, and Hefley was always a bit of a rat.

"Aren't you the lucky one, missy," came a voice. Ali managed to look up and see the officer. He looked like all the rest of them, body covered in heavily padded armor and face covered in a featureless black mask. The two bars on his forehead meant he was more important than the ones with only one bar, but that's about as much as Ali knew. "Go on, get her up. Try not to get her stink on everything. Put her on transport. The rest of you, start setting the charges."

Strong arms lifted her, but didn't bother to watch her feet. They dragged over the pavement, and Ali realized she'd cut her foot at some point during their mad run. She didn't care.

Maybe it'll get infected. I'm dead anyway.

Wait, charges?

The men carrying her dropped her on a cot inside one of the transports. Another Wrench, one dressed in white started to look over her. She looked around, but saw no one else from Niogh in the transport. "What's happening?" she said.

The white Wrench cocked her head slightly. "You're being removed to a holding facility. I am treating your injuries."

"No, the other...the other said something about setting charges."

"Niogh has been decommissioned. You're a very lucky girl. We were ordered to remove any citizens who presented themselves for evacuation. Bitch of the wording, really. The chiefs know how you all hide when the sirens go off. No matter really."

"Decommissioned?" Ali heard the word before, but only whispered by the workers.

"Yes, the factory is no longer needed. Niogh will be destroyed by controlled implosion."

The transport ship jerked upward as Ali started to fight. She didn't want to go. She needed to warn someone, or try to stop the Wrench, or something! A needle slid into her arm, and the world went fuzzy. Ali slipped into a deep sleep, and in her dream, she heard the crack of her whole world falling in on itself.

***

Daniel tried to suppress his nerves as he waited. The greeter left him in a small, comfortable room after a long set of apologies about the wait. The room matched the aesthetic of the rest of the Oliver Institute, plain white walls with pastel colored furniture and 1960s Americana decor. Except for the art on the walls. For that, whoever decorated turned to soft watercolors. They seemed out of place, but Daniel didn't know much about art.

He'd come dressed in a polo and slacks because that's what his friends told him to wear. They'd gotten their girl from the Oliver Institute and had no complaints, but otherwise Daniel didn't know what to expect. He'd been greeted by a normal woman, and he'd seen no sign of any Changed as he was led to the waiting area. The only indication of the nature of the Institute laid on the coffee table in front of him. The two heavy binders filled with plastic slip cases and reference photos tempted his curiosity, but he didn't want to do anything unseemly. Owning a Changed wasn't anything unusual, but Daniel did find the selection to be a bit odd. He thought it ran the risk of revealing something personal, even if that was the entire point.

The door opened, and a short woman with white hair and a youthful face entered. "Mr. Cooper?"

"Yes, Daniel, please," he said, rising to shake her hand.

"I am Emily Thatcher, one of the curators. I'm going to be walking you through your selection, please have a seat."

Daniel returned to his chair as Emily took a seat opposite him. She placed a tablet beside her on the small couch and turned her attention to the two catalogs, arranging them to face Daniel. "Now, do you have something in mind? A reference photo perhaps or are we starting from scratch?"

His face reddened as she opened the first binder to a page that showed different stages of Changed. "Um, no, not really. I actually thought that, I mean no offense, but I thought I'd have a man work with me."

Emily flashed a warm smile, "Ah, that can be arranged if you wish, but I can assure you of several things. First, I do not judge. You could think of me simply as a more personable A.I. Second, we offer absolute discretion for all our clients. Third, I have been doing this for longer than you might think to look at me. Nothing brings me greater joy than delivering the perfect Changed for each client. You see, I think of it as an art, really. I originally studied sculpture, and I believe my profession is the pure evolution of that high art. So while the end product might be used for more lascivious purposes, the pursuit of a creature that excels at that purpose is a noble goal. And that's not to mention that many of our clients who initially request same gender curators find it unpleasant in the end. This is not an area where you need competing viewpoints. As I prefer the male form to the female one, we can be assured that it is your vision which comes through in the Changed and not mine. Would you still prefer I get someone else?"

Daniel thought he might, but didn't want to risk offending her. "No, you've reassured me."

"Excellent," she said with the same practiced smile. Daniel wondered how many of her years were hidden under the age regression. She clearly had a better grasp of things than he initially thought. "Let's get started. First thing to decide, full human or hybrid?" She turned the binder's pages to display two pictures. The left showed a naked woman with ludicrously sized breasts, enlarged feet, and a swollen ass. The right showed a petite woman with orange fur covering her from head to toe, a striped tail jutting out from her backside, and two cat ears rising from the top of her head.

"Hybrid," he said, suppressing the quaver in his voice.

She flipped the catalog again. "Next is the stage. As you see here, we have four different stages of hybrid Changed. Stage one is notable for its lack of physiological changes other than mild furring, usually on the back, shoulders and bottom. Stage two incorporates extremity changes. Feet become paws or hooves, for example. Ears change, some noses depending on the selection. Stage three adds extraneous appendages. Tails, horns, claws, that sort of thing. Furring is more extensive, usually covering everything other than the underbelly. Additionally, this is where genitalia begin to change without specific modification. Stage four is full hybrid, but retaining human facial features. Stage five adds facial modifications, snouts, muzzles, and so forth." She waited for his response, her fingers poised over the tablet.

Daniel cleared his throat and pretended to evaluate each of the pictures. "Stage four, I think."

Her fingers moved, and the entry flashed green. "Species?"

"Canine."

"Ah, now we're getting to the root of it. Fur color?"

"Is silver possible?"

"Of course. Would you like it to be silver all over or with normal delineations?"

"What do you mean?"

She went back to the catalog and quickly found a page showing two images of wolf girls. One had a solid color of black fur covering her while the other had a deep blue except for around her breasts where it lightened to near white. "Natural delineations tend to allow for lighter color variations on the underbelly and around the genitals. For silver, I would suggest a pure white to complement it. Go for a bit of a husky stylization."

"That sounds good," he said, somewhat alarmed that she seemed to be ahead of his own thoughts. "Could you incorporate the steely blue eyes as well?"

"And the bushy tail?"

"Yes, please." He coughed to hide his eagerness.

Emily continued on as if she hadn't noticed. "On the subject of breasts, would you like the basic human form or would you like the canine hybrid?"

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand your meaning."

She flipped to a new set of photos. On the left, a cat woman with high sitting, firm breasts covered in yellow fur. On the right, a cat woman with black fur and six breasts. "Multiple breasts, all identical in sensitivity and arranged to compliment form."

For the first time, an image provoked a stir in Daniel's crotch. "The hybrid version, I think."

Emily hummed to herself as she worked. For a while she didn't ask any questions, but focused her attention on the tablet. "This covers all the major changes unless you have some specifics on sizing? Usually we form body type to the other structural requirements while fleshing out the bottom and breasts. Are you enhanced? If so, we can tailor the Changed to —"

"No, no I'm not."

"Very well. If something changes in that area, you can always have things adjusted later. While the major form decisions are final, progression still remains an option. If you wanted to increase bust size or perhaps advance to a stage five, we could do that for a reduced fee." She scrolled to the bottom of whatever form she was filling out. "We have your sample on file. So that brings us to the final changes. The Changed will be bonded to you through that sample. She will recognize your voice as master. Are there any specific personality traits you wish to instill? Do you wish for her to be particularly submissive or dominant? Animalistic or human? Ability to speak or only make hybrid noises. Our standard is what we call the Obli package. It leaves a fairly blank mind with a hyper libido and an extreme dedication to the master or mistress. It's a good starting point. Mental changes are another front where we can make adjustments in the future."

"Obli will be fine," Daniel said.

Emily made a few final clicks on her tablet before she stood up. "The process takes about thirty minutes. You're free to wait here. I can have an assistant bring in some reading material, or we have a feed display if you would like."

"No, thank you. I'm fine." She'd left the picture of the multi-breasted woman open on the coffee table. He crossed his legs to hide his erection.

Emily smiled and noticed her client's discomfort. "Of course, we understand the selection process can be a little too stimulating for some of our younger clients. We can offer relief in that realm while you wait."

Daniel swallowed the lump at the back of his throat. "No, I'm fine."

"Very well, I'll be back soon with your Changed."

***

Ali didn't understand how an eight foot square cage could be the best place she'd lived in her entire life. A Wrench in blue brought her a full meal every morning and evening, with foods she'd never even seen before, including a proper cake made with sugar. She'd gained ten pounds in the eight days since she'd been taken. It didn't change much about her worries, but if she was going to be kept in a box, at least she'd be fed well. She tried to learn something else about Niogh, but the only person who spoke to her was the blue Wrench. The faceless woman didn't even know what Niogh was other than a factory town. Ali could hear other people being held in the same facility, but she never saw them. Sometimes Wrenches came and took them away. Ali figured eventually someone would come and take her. In the meantime, she enjoyed her cake.

When the blue Wrench delivered her food, a red light would turn on above the door. When a green light came on, Ali didn't know what to expect, but certainly didn't expect a short woman with white hair. The woman smiled, "I understand your name is Ali. My name is Dr. Thatcher. You will follow me."

The woman did not wait. No guards accompanied her, and Ali did not particularly want to follow. Still, Emily Thatcher was the only human face she'd seen since Hefley. That both unnerved and intrigued her, nor did she see any point in alienating her captors. The brief thoughts of escape vanished when Ali realized that she had no idea where they'd taken her. Even if she did, Niogh wasn't there to go home to anyway. She slid off her bunk and followed the clack of heels down the hallway. Ali hurried to keep up. The shorter woman walked quickly and tutted whenever Ali fell behind. Dr. Thatcher stopped at a door, scanned a card, and stood aside for Ali to enter. It was an exam room, like the one the Wrenches brought her to when they first arrived. A steel table sat in the center with medical equipment all around it. This equipment looked different than the junk Ali saw when she arrived, but she hadn't known what those machines did any more than she did these new ones. "On the table," Dr. Thatcher ordered.

Ali obeyed, climbing onto the table and lying down. Dr. Thatcher moved over her immediately. A pair of scissors cut down the front of the small cotton shirt they'd given Ali to wear. With that pulled away, Dr. Thatcher cut off her underwear as well. She took the cloth to a hazardous waste bin, leaving Ali naked on the table. She ventured a question, "What's happening?"

"We've found a home for you," Dr. Thatcher said. "Place your hands here, and your legs here please."

Ali did as she was told. She didn't have much option. Once she positioned herself, the doctor pressed a button and machines whirred to life. Clamps fastened around Ali's ankles, wrists, torso, and neck. They moved her up as the table dropped away, leaving her dangling like a marionette. She started to scream, but a stern look from Dr. Thatcher cut her off. All around her, spindly arms of machinery sprang to life. The first angled around several times before plunging a needle into Ali's neck.

"Euphoria. Makes the rest of this much less unpleasant. You're going to have several injections and undergo dramatic physiological changes. Don't worry, the mental ones will follow soon after."

No, no. What?

"Wait, stop! Why? You can't do this."

"Yes, I can." Dr. Thatcher plugged a table into one of the machines. More mechanical arms began to move like a tangle of spider's legs. "You should be happy. Mr. Cooper is a well off man, positioned quite well in his job. Not even married yet, so you'll have the run of the house. Work on him hard enough, and he may never get one. You could be the main consort of a very powerful man. That is a long way to climb for a little gutter rat."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"This," she pressed a button and needles jabbed into Ali's naked flesh. Tubes connected to the needles swirled with different colors of liquid. Ali watched with horror as the machines pumped chemicals into her body. "In a way, you are one of the luckiest creatures alive. No longer do you have to worry about providing for yourself or making sure you don't offend anyone. You won't have anyone to offend, only your Master and those he directs you to please. He's shy, I think, but most men are before they get their Changed. Giving them someone to own, something to unleash their more base nature upon. It cleans them up for the rest of society. Good for you, good for him, good for all of us."

"And the people of Niogh?" Ali hissed through clenched teeth. "Is this what happens to those of us you take?"

"Some, yes. You're from Niogh? I remember its construction, a factory where you unwittingly made the very chemical compounds I'm using right now. Must have been sixty years ago. I saw it was destroyed on the feed. A shame. I could have used more of your stock."

Ali screamed. Her skin burned, and her bones ached. As soon as the pain started, it faded away into a warm sensation traveling up and down her body. "Can you tell me what's happening at least?"

"Of course, I am not cruel. Big changes first. Your bones are breaking and reforming. Nothing too major with canine hybrids. Mostly the feet. Ah, see there."

Ali looked down and saw her legs wriggling like worms. Her calves warped back as her heel moved up her leg. The bridge of her foot thickened as her toes grew fatter and closer together. A thick tendon strained out from the back of her leg, stretching the full length of what had been her scrawny muscle. The skin on the bottom of her feet turned to pad.

Like a dog.

The flat of her foot looked larger than a dog's, large enough to support a human's weight. She tried to wiggle her toes, but instead black nails cracked out of her flesh as hair started to grow all over her body.

"Now for the fur. You might feel some slight tingling."