FA+
Shop
3176
Views
Views
65
Favorites
Favorites
Category
Story / Transformation
Species Hyena
Size 120 x 120
File Size 105.9 kB
Report this content
More from Marquis Orias
Listed in Folders
First of the Moreau Raffle Winners! In this piece, we see a wayward botanist get transformed via an accelerated serum into a hulking semi-feral hyena, complete with instincts to contend with alongside a mission to complete.
4.2k Words
.pdf is the best way to read
I try to proofread to the best of my abilities, but if anything slipped by me, just let me know via a private DM and I will correct said mistake.
Enjoy!
The Moreau TTRPG kickstarter is in its final few hours, as well, if you're curious about supporting the project that inspired this free raffle
Link here: https://www.kickstarter.com/project.....-moreau-ttrpg/
Island of Dr. Moreau - Hyena
Marquis Orias
Woman -> Semi-Feral Hyena
SFW
“It’s a jungle out there.” Dr. Moreau pulled back his office’s window blinds to reveal distant foggy peaks speckled with trees and rocky outcroppings. “But I suppose that’s what you want, Ms. Cornelia.”
Vell, deep in thought, merely grunted in approval. Yes, this was what she wanted, what she traveled for, a long journey by helicopter just as the sun rose, a chance at exploring parts unknown, expenses covered by a generous benefactor. All for discovery science. All for a chance at seeing her name recorded in the latest journals as a proper scientific pioneer, someone who went out and blazed a trail for finding new or forgotten species. Maybe she’d even get one named after her for good measure.
“Yes. Yes, that's what I want.”
Moreau eyed her up for a moment before giving her a quick nod. “As much as I’d love to let you loose, I’m afraid there are some precautions we must take.”
“I provided my dengue vaccination records–”
“But we have a particularly virulent strain of yellow fever lingering around these jungle marshes. Dreadful stuff.” Moreau shuffled back over toward his cabinet of curiosities, a strange assortment of archaic medical equipment, awards, and a few vials of a shimmering, pink liquid next to an unused syringe. “Consider this complimentary of our institute. We wouldn’t want you to die out there.”
Vell wouldn’t have declined the injection, even if the Doctor charged her for his services.
No, Dr. Moreau, enigmatic in his mannerisms, captivated her from the moment he’d started talking. With his wild eyes maintaining the same intensity as his crimson hair, he’d sold her on an opportunity for study at a remote location. Buying into his promises, she’d canceled all other plans, letting her friends know she’d be far across the sea getting a taste of proper discovery.
“Untouched.” He’d said during their early communications. “Not even the botanists in my family bothered to explore the deepest jungles or the volcanic peaks.”
Surveying a technically uncharted island was just what her latest paper needed, a one-up on her rivals, a chance at putting Vell Cornelia into the science journals as a force for tracking evolutionary plant biology.
“Doctor, I’m up to the challenge.”
“It’ll be physically exerting, too. Not something I myself would partake in.” Dr. Moreau fastened a hypodermic needle onto the syringe before slipping the tip into one vial. “But more power to you. Also, as someone with a paler complexion myself, I highly recommend a strong sunscreen. Even with tree cover, the UV index on this island is dreadful.”
“I might look a little lanky, a little small, but I keep myself in shape. You don’t have to worry about me out there. Why, I’ve been all over the world… five continents.”
“I suppose there’s not much in Antarctica for a plant biologist to study.” Moreau held the syringe up toward the light, gauging the cc’s of liquid for the vaccine.
“Not much, no.” Vell rolled up her sleeve. She’d sported a poncho today, on account of frequent tropical rainstorms. Maybe not the best choice given the overwhelming humidity, but she’d rather be dry and overheated than damp and slightly less overheated.
“This is going to sting a bit.”
“At least you’re honest, Moreau.” Vell turned her head away, lips pursed. Why didn’t she bring her phone? Even without cell reception, she could at least listen to her downloaded playlists. Bah.
“No sense sugarcoating things.” Moreau slipped the needle under Vell’s skin and injected his serum. A clean administration. No licensed nurse practitioner necessary.
“Ah. Yeah. That stings. Wow… You said that’s for yellow fever?”
“It’s a dangerous disease, worth a little pain to avoid a lot of pain. How much is a life worth, after all?”
“Right, well… thanks.” Vell rubbed her arm and winced. The lingering heat from the injection radiated up her limb, seeping into her bones.
Moreau took a step back to admire his handiwork. A successful accelerated serum, with few side effects, eluded him, but not for much longer. This test could very well be the one. Sure, she’d experience some discomfort along the way, but as long as she maintained her mind, well, he could mark it down as a success. Suppression of instinct was critical, and if she could manage that…
“Doctor, do you have a map of the entire island?”
“I’m afraid not.” Dr. Moreau shook his head. “I’ve been meaning to get this place surveyed. Especially ahead of establishing my resort-clinic, but such construction is years away from completion.”
“Really? All those bungalows looked complete to me. The facilities–”
“The guest houses are complete. Our recreational centers and therapeutic spas still require extensive construction. We’re not even at Phase II out of V. I’ve got big plans for this place, you see. I want this to be an all-encompassing elite resort. Naturally, that requires enhancements to our airfield and docks, our infrastructure is terribly barebones, you see, only one asphalt path between here and the village.”
Vell moved to interrupt him, but caught her tongue. Rare species, allegedly, dotting this island, including plant specimens not known to science and likely endemic… and this doctor, this man of science, wanted to tear down much of the jungle to build a glorified amusement park. Was she hearing this, correctly? Such wanton destruction for real estate just felt… wrong.
“Moreau, I… what happens if I find an endangered species out there. Will that interrupt your plans–”
“I don’t see how it would.” Moreau, in the midst of putting away his lab equipment, kept a chipper attitude in his voice. “I think the allure of endangered species might bring wealthy eco-tourists to my shores. It’s all about balance, you see. I’m building a big, beautiful, bright new world for humanity. This is just the first step.”
His words didn’t assure her, she wished they did, but she knew what reckless speculation and development led to. Ruined ecosystems. More species disappearing. And if there ever was cause for concern, it always centered around the animals, but never the plants.
But Vell stood up for the plants. Vell cataloged them. Preserved them. Maintained samples and root cultures she could replant.
“My, uh, bungalow. Is there room for establishing a small greenhouse? I’d like to keep some specimens while I’m here.
“Of course! We can get you a few lamps if the sun isn’t quite up to par. Just let me know what you need, and I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of.”
Moreau handed her a brochure then, and for a moment the doctor faded and the salesman surfaced. What a generous host, one ready to let her get a taste of adventure deep in the wilderness. And all it cost her was a painful shot in the arm, and apparently a lingering headache, too.
“You’re too kind, Moreau. That can be rare these days.”
Moreau gave her a curt nod. “I just hope you find what you’re searching for out there. Well, also I hope that you’re kind enough to give us a proper review.”
—
“She reminds me of an elven fae. Short and lanky. Pale.” Dr. Duvert, in full Victorian dress with their arms crossed, stood in Moreau’s doorway. “Not sure why she’s worthy of an accelerated serum. What did the Keebler elves ever do to you?”
Moreau flipped open one of his journals, scribbling down a series of notes while shaking his head at his silver-haired subordinate. “They’re terrible cookies, Sabin. Not made with love.”
“Mind if we discuss the timetable for her changes. I assume she won’t have much contact with the other islanders–”
“I didn’t even send her to the village. Had one of the guards drop her luggage off at her assigned bungalow… though I doubt she’ll ever actually use the place. If everything goes to plan, she’ll be quite happy out in the jungle this afternoon.”
“By this afternoon? Moreau, that’s an insane amount of physiological stress to place on a subject. Even a transformation on a week timetable is… well… you know how those experiments have gone.”
“This time will be different.” Moreau scribbled harder. Ah, yes. Physiological and psychological stress. The burdens that plagued his wonderful island. Each islander a potential ticking time bomb of instinct and emotions. Playing with DNA brought out the worst in people, but the data proved invaluable nonetheless.
“How will it be different, Moreau?” Sabin reached up and seized the edge of their tophat, a reflex whenever they felt stress. What was Moreau’s game here? Such action was… deliberately destructive. Feral labs printed money, sure, but to be so… wasteful when past accelerated serums failed even at the animal test phase, let alone during human trials…
“She’s tough. Don’t let her size fool you. She’s got a drive for success, a desire to excel in her field. I bet she’ll still try to find samples even as her body turns.”
“What’s her medical history, though? Did she pass all the compatibility exams? We didn’t even get a chance to get a behavioral profile…”
Moreau glared at the other doctor, his amusement fading to frustration. Did Sabin really think that he wouldn’t properly screen such a valuable subject? What did his subordinate take him for? A fool?
“Sabin. Sabin. Her medical history is clean and ripe for genetic recombination. No major conditions. Male-to-female transgender, but only hormones come into play, and I’ve adjusted for those with the serum. Her constitution is solid. She’s done field work. And now, well, she’ll make a terrific hyena.”
“These accelerated serums… they just don’t work properly…”
“But this one will, Sabin. This one will. Trust me.”
“Do we have a contingency plan if she goes feral? What if she attacks the other islanders, especially the islanders who are loyal to you? Why… they could be up in arms overnight! Betrayed by their Good Doctor.”
Sabin had seen it transpire before, loyalties rewarded with punishments… eager maws now primed to bite the hand that fed them. All those relationships, their bonds tenuous, shattered in an instant. And such loyalty wasn’t easy to buy on the Island of Doctor Moreau.
“If she goes feral, she can become your next pet project.”
“My next pet project! I… I don’t want a hyena monster, Moreau. I don’t need that many spots… spotted hyena, right?”
“Yup, spotted.” Moreau crossed his arms and smiled. He loved keeping his employees on edge.
Sabin’s eyes narrowed in frustration. “I don’t need a spotted hyena to eat… bones. I don’t have any spare bones lying around, Moreau. Even if you think I do.”
Moreau’s grin widened.
—
Vell cut her way through the jungle, alternating machete chops with grasping her sore arm. Yellow fever vaccine… it wasn’t even intramuscular… Why did it hurt? Aching under her skin, forcing her to grit her teeth, encouraging her to just stop and scream in frustration. Maybe the doctor should have provided some Icy Hot, too… or at least ibuprofen.
Stopping to ease her pains, however, would distract her from her mission. Her time on this island was limited… Moreau made it sound like she’d be here a few days at the most… plus she had a life to return to, papers to write, studies to participate in, a social life to indulge.
Vell hadn’t told anyone where she’d flown off to, she hadn’t the time. Just a few messages about going on a big adventure, one bigger than most. And that had hardly been a lie.
Adventures in the underbrush, hacking away at dense vines… swatting away at persistent mosquitoes. As far as disease went, Moreau certainly hadn’t exaggerated. Good thing she’d swallowed down bitter quinine, staving off malaria for the time being.
But good lord her arm ached, enough to make her want to slam the machete into the nearest tree and snarl her frustrations at the canopy.
More mosquitoes brought more itching, Vell’s nails working overtime as she tore at her nylon rain slicker and jeans. Thick clothing, possibly too thick, but she’d wanted to ward off the bugs of the forest while she carved a path. The rain slicker, however, the poncho, soon shredded under Vell’s frantic scratching, revealing her usual field outfit.
“Blasted cheap plastic… maybe Moreau has another one.” She hissed under her breath before gritting her teeth.
Her head felt heavier, her mouth gummy and distorted. Was this heatstroke? She’d rushed into this entire affair with such excitement that maybe she’d underestimated the sapping nature of the island’s humidity.
“Bah.” Vell dropped her machete and reached around to fetch a canteen from her backpack.
That she lapped at the water rather than gulping it down was lost on her in the moment. Right now she just wanted the aches and pains to abate, the tightness in her clothing to relent. Just a rip or tear for good measure, something to take the edge off. But no such relief came, and Vell found herself snarling and gnashing her teeth as she craved more water.
Heat inside her stomach, radiating around her entire core, made her feel like punching the adjacent tree. The urge to snap, crunch, let loose a hint of rage at her discomfort crawled into her mind and took up permanent residence. Try as she might, she couldn’t push aside the thought that her human skin felt… wrong. Where was her pelt? Where were her fangs and claws? How could she run like this? How could she scavenge?
“Urrrrr…” The growl in her throat welled and grew as she closed up her canteen. Not a single new plant specimen collected, only discomfort and growing anger. None of this was right. She needed to be free from that sweltered jungle heat, tucked away in a burrow as she waited for nightfall.
In the dark, she could run unburdened.
Vell fell to a crouch as a fresh welling of pain raced down her spine. This forced a cry from her mouth, an awkward, stifled sound that reverberated between human and animal.
Wait. No. This wasn’t right. None of this was right–
Her back hunched and lurched upward, bone and muscle twitching and expanding into a discernible hump. Vell hissed, digging her fingers into the forest detritus, fallen leaves, mud, and the insects that scurried about searching for their next meal.
A part of her mind screamed for the hunt, the grand scavenge, warding off the other predators of the island as she staked her carrion claim, but Vell shoved it aside. No, no. This simply wouldn’t do. She’d been drugged in some capacity, a delirant that made her think her flesh was no longer her own. Spores in the air, perhaps? Chemical exposure? She hadn’t sampled any plants by taste, not yet at least. When she was feeling daring, she’d nibble on a piece of rootwood, sure, but the vision of spotted fur, bulging inhuman muscle, and bared fangs felt all too real.
Never did she put together that the ‘vaccine’ she’d received a few hours prior, one with an injection site that ached and itched, might be culprit for her present state.
“You’ve got one… rrrrrr… messed up island… Doc.” The voice that slipped past Vell’s lips was guttural, growling, impossibly deep with a snarl that emerged every other syllable.
At the base of her spine, a fresh bulge inched outward, flesh coating new vertebrae that linked together and moved with a mind of their own. A stubby tail, in its entirety, but one still long enough for Vell to swivel her swelling maw up over her hairy shoulder and witness her… new appendage…
No, no. Just a hallucination, albeit one that felt real with each frantic swish of her new appendage.
Onward. Deeper into the foliage. She had to lose herself among the vines and, should her claws continue to ache, rake them up and down the trees around her. Such action could blunt the pain, right? Even these nervous tingles and–
No, no. The stubby claws were just in her head. The spotted fur? All inside her head. Ditto to the tail. In a flash, fresh rips and tears emerged through an outfit desperately clinging to muscular bulk. What fabric remained intact served as a reminder of her previous form and occupation.
She just had to carry onward, all poisons eventually subsided.
—
“Talk about accelerated.” Dr. Duvert glared at a flickering research monitor, its connected aerial camera offering a perfect view of Vell’s metamorphosis. “Incredible.”
Moreau frantically scribbled down notes, his short-hand notation a series of looping circles and the occasional exclamation mark. “She’s thrashing around quite a bit. Snarling. Reacting… poorly. Too instinctual. Bah. Why can’t we keep the mind as a blank slate, Sabin? Why are we stuck with these instincts that seem to lurk inside DNA… inside each cell? I’m no neurologist, but–”
“That’s our problem. We don’t have a neurologist on the team. If there’d be anyone to add…”
Moreau paused for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “I think we could budget for that. Top of their field. Might save us a lot of heartache as we try to resolve these… issues.”
“With the mind, we’re truly venturing into untold territory.”
“Oh. I know. That’s what makes it fun, Sabin.”
—
A few final, definitive shakes rippled across the hulking hyena woman’s frame. Propped up on her hands and knees, Vell hissed under her breath as the throbbing heat in her muscles finally abated, leaving in its place a feeling of strength. Her attuned senses absorbed the sounds and smells of the jungle around her, and Vell realized that she’d never really been alone out here, only alone to limited human senses. Before she only cared about what she could directly see, but now she smelled and heard an entire ecosystem more vibrant to her enhanced nose and ears.
The urge to hunt, to seek out sustenance, lingered at the forefront of Vell’s mind. Stumbling through the underbrush, vines and low-hanging branches smacking against her hulking frame, she fought to stave off such unsavory instincts, instead keeping herself rooted, no pun intended, on her botanical goal.
No deliriant lasted forever. Even a datura nightmare came to an end.
Flowers. Rare flowers. Flowers she could… hrrr… document as she gnashed her teeth and crushed bones. How many bones? Never enough. Fresh marrow. Stale marrow. A scavenger’s delight.
Vell raised her blocky snout to the air, taking a deep huff as she tried to find pollen, not meat, on the wind. Exotic orchids.
She paused near a puddle, its depths murky, but its surface reflective just enough for her to make out her new shape. Big, blocky snout. Wide nostrils, pebbled and dark. Eyes that still retained an aura of humanity, a recognizable gaze that Vell could grasp onto as herself instead of a strange hyena beast.
“So you’re my hallucination. My nightmare. A shame that I don’t hate hyenas. I think they get a bad rap.” Vell realized that she kinda liked her distorted voice, how she sounded to her ears and–
A wild boar crashed through the foliage next to her, immediately acting on Vell’s predatory instincts to chase.
Spotted hyenas, not always scavengers. Sometimes they’d pursue prey themselves. Vell gave chase, and while she didn’t quite have the speed or coordination to catch the feral hog, she followed as best she could manage.
But the distractions of the jungle wore away at her shaken mind.
Something caught her eye, snapped her out of the thrill of the chase. Suddenly the hog didn’t matter, no.
Vell hadn’t ever seen a proper blood orchid, outside of a fanciful portrayal in a terrible Anaconda sequel. Yet a small patch of flowers emerged from a crack in a stony hillside. The jungle’s vines didn’t strangle these orchids, no, they’d lucked out. Insulated and protected from competition, fearing not the birds and creatures of the jungle kept away by scarlet coloring that even seeped into the stalk itself. Little photosynthesis available deep in the under foliage, but this plant persevered.
“Hello, there.” Vell, even with a distorted voice, couldn’t resist talking to her plants.
Hers? Yes, yes. She needed to take a sample for her collection. One she could grow, protected, in a neatly maintained little pot that could get all the natural light it needed ahead of yielding seeds. Then she could grow more, dissect and photograph them, and get all the necessary angles for proper paper exhibits.
Though challenged by her toughened hands, fingers stubby and clumsy, Vell managed to delicately extract the flower, lifting up a chunk of sod containing the roots. Glistening crimson petals, a little sunset in plant form, captured the light perfectly for Vell to fumble her way through her knapsack for her camera. She’d take a few shots now, quick candid pieces.
“Scavenge later… hunt later… flower now… take pictures of flowers now…” She muttered to herself if only to hear her growly, guttural voice.
As far as samples and photos went, Vell managed best she could. She took more than she needed, getting angles that she’d keep for her own photo journals rather than scientific publishing, but she made sure to have more than enough.
—
Vell burst out of the clearing, alternating between a four-legged gait and a bipedal stance that balanced precariously on her proportionally shrunken legs. She paced the laboratory fence, waiting for Moreau… a guard… anyone, to come fetch her and listen to her delirium ravings. Oh what stories she had to tell, visions of becoming a fearsome hyena, the struggle of handling her altered physique, her clumsy hands that felt like permanent lead-lined gloves, and her constant sensory overload, and–
A narrow door, hidden but for a small outline in the blank walls of the complex, slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Moreau himself, clad in reflective aviators and sporting a wry smile, stepped out into the sunlight. He raised his arms, only to clasp them together.
“Sometimes, I even shock myself.” He stood a few feet before her.
Vell whined and, without thinking, knelt her head against the mesh-wire fence. Stupid, terribly stupid on her part. What if said fence had a current running through it? Fried, smokey fur wasn’t exactly a look…
Wait, no… for it to be fried, it’d have to be real. Sure, it felt real in how her pelt… pushed against her tattered and strained clothes… and rustled in the constant ocean breeze. There’d been no wind in the jungle, but now she felt her whiskers twitch and bob.
“Moreau, you’re not going to believe this. You’ve got some plant or fungus with deliriant properties out in the jungle. I… I’m hallucinating… dissociating right now, sorta, but I think I’m a… hehehe… he-hyena. Can you believe that?”
Moreau eyed up the bulky hyena creature leaning against the fence, the tattered clothing and human hair blending into her mane the only indicator that she’d once been human. Well, that and the fact that she seemed cheerful about the whole ‘hallucination’ ordeal.
Too bad that Moreau, for the sake of his experiment, needed to end her fun. Scientific integrity, and all that.
“Ms. Cornelia. Congratulations on being our first accelerated metamorphosis success stories. Quite an impressive achievement. Your mental fortitude resisted the allure of genetic memories, embedded instincts.”
“Oh. So, I should actually be freaking out, then.” Vell glanced down at her upturned palms, puffy pads coated in dirt from taking flower samples. “Wonderful.”
“Our amenities, however, are actually finished. Beyond your bungalow, you’ll find a world-class cafeteria, an entertainment complex complete with gym and spa, and of course our fabulous beaches.”
The way the pitch rolled off his tongue made Moreau feel ever the part of the salesman, but in a way that made sense. His vision, in all its grandeur, required a confident delivery.
“Okay, so this… this goes away?” Vell poked at her snout, her tongue involuntarily lolling out of her mouth past her fangs as she prodded her muzzle.
“No! It doesn’t! You’re like that… forever! Part of my new world. It’s quite an honor, really.”
“Ah. I see.” Vell wrinkled her nose and bared her fangs, stifling back another laugh.
Hyenas laugh when they’re nervous, Vell remembered that quick factoid from an Animal Planet special, and she certainly felt nervous enough given the startling revelation that maybe, just maybe, she might never see home again. Also she might never see humanity again, her old face lost, cast away, hidden behind a muzzle and fur.
Real, this madness was real. The changes? Real. That pain wasn’t imagined. Her body really contorted and twisted into such a beastly form.
Vell clutched the flower tighter against her tensed abdominal muscles. “Moreau, at my apartment back on the mainland… I have plant samples and…”
Brushing off her concerns with a wave of his hand, Moreau drew nearer to the fence, so close that Vell could see her own altered reflection in his aviators. “I can send someone from the company to take care of your affairs, Vell.”
Moreau, indeed, could do that. A housekeeper. A caretaker. Anything to make sure Vell's greenhouse kept on kicking with no questions asked from the neighbors.
“So, Vell. About that review…”
Vell, staring daggers, glanced down at the flower cupped between her callused pads. The petals drooped further, a few stands of dew running along their edge. So picturesque. So perfect. Did such a stark revelation, a betrayal by another scientist, really have to ruin her exploratory discovery vacation?
No. No, it didn’t.
Vell merely stood on the edge of the new frontier, thrust forward to experience what it truly meant to be human. Plants she could understand, but animals were a whole different ball game. She wasn’t afraid though, no.
Such power was to be cherished.
Her hackles raised and her teeth bared, fangs glistening with saliva, and a fresh giggling laugh welled in her throat, husky and predatory.
“Moreau. I think it’s still a little too early to give you a final score.”
4.2k Words
.pdf is the best way to read
I try to proofread to the best of my abilities, but if anything slipped by me, just let me know via a private DM and I will correct said mistake.
Enjoy!
The Moreau TTRPG kickstarter is in its final few hours, as well, if you're curious about supporting the project that inspired this free raffle
Link here: https://www.kickstarter.com/project.....-moreau-ttrpg/
Island of Dr. Moreau - Hyena
Marquis Orias
Woman -> Semi-Feral Hyena
SFW
“It’s a jungle out there.” Dr. Moreau pulled back his office’s window blinds to reveal distant foggy peaks speckled with trees and rocky outcroppings. “But I suppose that’s what you want, Ms. Cornelia.”
Vell, deep in thought, merely grunted in approval. Yes, this was what she wanted, what she traveled for, a long journey by helicopter just as the sun rose, a chance at exploring parts unknown, expenses covered by a generous benefactor. All for discovery science. All for a chance at seeing her name recorded in the latest journals as a proper scientific pioneer, someone who went out and blazed a trail for finding new or forgotten species. Maybe she’d even get one named after her for good measure.
“Yes. Yes, that's what I want.”
Moreau eyed her up for a moment before giving her a quick nod. “As much as I’d love to let you loose, I’m afraid there are some precautions we must take.”
“I provided my dengue vaccination records–”
“But we have a particularly virulent strain of yellow fever lingering around these jungle marshes. Dreadful stuff.” Moreau shuffled back over toward his cabinet of curiosities, a strange assortment of archaic medical equipment, awards, and a few vials of a shimmering, pink liquid next to an unused syringe. “Consider this complimentary of our institute. We wouldn’t want you to die out there.”
Vell wouldn’t have declined the injection, even if the Doctor charged her for his services.
No, Dr. Moreau, enigmatic in his mannerisms, captivated her from the moment he’d started talking. With his wild eyes maintaining the same intensity as his crimson hair, he’d sold her on an opportunity for study at a remote location. Buying into his promises, she’d canceled all other plans, letting her friends know she’d be far across the sea getting a taste of proper discovery.
“Untouched.” He’d said during their early communications. “Not even the botanists in my family bothered to explore the deepest jungles or the volcanic peaks.”
Surveying a technically uncharted island was just what her latest paper needed, a one-up on her rivals, a chance at putting Vell Cornelia into the science journals as a force for tracking evolutionary plant biology.
“Doctor, I’m up to the challenge.”
“It’ll be physically exerting, too. Not something I myself would partake in.” Dr. Moreau fastened a hypodermic needle onto the syringe before slipping the tip into one vial. “But more power to you. Also, as someone with a paler complexion myself, I highly recommend a strong sunscreen. Even with tree cover, the UV index on this island is dreadful.”
“I might look a little lanky, a little small, but I keep myself in shape. You don’t have to worry about me out there. Why, I’ve been all over the world… five continents.”
“I suppose there’s not much in Antarctica for a plant biologist to study.” Moreau held the syringe up toward the light, gauging the cc’s of liquid for the vaccine.
“Not much, no.” Vell rolled up her sleeve. She’d sported a poncho today, on account of frequent tropical rainstorms. Maybe not the best choice given the overwhelming humidity, but she’d rather be dry and overheated than damp and slightly less overheated.
“This is going to sting a bit.”
“At least you’re honest, Moreau.” Vell turned her head away, lips pursed. Why didn’t she bring her phone? Even without cell reception, she could at least listen to her downloaded playlists. Bah.
“No sense sugarcoating things.” Moreau slipped the needle under Vell’s skin and injected his serum. A clean administration. No licensed nurse practitioner necessary.
“Ah. Yeah. That stings. Wow… You said that’s for yellow fever?”
“It’s a dangerous disease, worth a little pain to avoid a lot of pain. How much is a life worth, after all?”
“Right, well… thanks.” Vell rubbed her arm and winced. The lingering heat from the injection radiated up her limb, seeping into her bones.
Moreau took a step back to admire his handiwork. A successful accelerated serum, with few side effects, eluded him, but not for much longer. This test could very well be the one. Sure, she’d experience some discomfort along the way, but as long as she maintained her mind, well, he could mark it down as a success. Suppression of instinct was critical, and if she could manage that…
“Doctor, do you have a map of the entire island?”
“I’m afraid not.” Dr. Moreau shook his head. “I’ve been meaning to get this place surveyed. Especially ahead of establishing my resort-clinic, but such construction is years away from completion.”
“Really? All those bungalows looked complete to me. The facilities–”
“The guest houses are complete. Our recreational centers and therapeutic spas still require extensive construction. We’re not even at Phase II out of V. I’ve got big plans for this place, you see. I want this to be an all-encompassing elite resort. Naturally, that requires enhancements to our airfield and docks, our infrastructure is terribly barebones, you see, only one asphalt path between here and the village.”
Vell moved to interrupt him, but caught her tongue. Rare species, allegedly, dotting this island, including plant specimens not known to science and likely endemic… and this doctor, this man of science, wanted to tear down much of the jungle to build a glorified amusement park. Was she hearing this, correctly? Such wanton destruction for real estate just felt… wrong.
“Moreau, I… what happens if I find an endangered species out there. Will that interrupt your plans–”
“I don’t see how it would.” Moreau, in the midst of putting away his lab equipment, kept a chipper attitude in his voice. “I think the allure of endangered species might bring wealthy eco-tourists to my shores. It’s all about balance, you see. I’m building a big, beautiful, bright new world for humanity. This is just the first step.”
His words didn’t assure her, she wished they did, but she knew what reckless speculation and development led to. Ruined ecosystems. More species disappearing. And if there ever was cause for concern, it always centered around the animals, but never the plants.
But Vell stood up for the plants. Vell cataloged them. Preserved them. Maintained samples and root cultures she could replant.
“My, uh, bungalow. Is there room for establishing a small greenhouse? I’d like to keep some specimens while I’m here.
“Of course! We can get you a few lamps if the sun isn’t quite up to par. Just let me know what you need, and I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of.”
Moreau handed her a brochure then, and for a moment the doctor faded and the salesman surfaced. What a generous host, one ready to let her get a taste of adventure deep in the wilderness. And all it cost her was a painful shot in the arm, and apparently a lingering headache, too.
“You’re too kind, Moreau. That can be rare these days.”
Moreau gave her a curt nod. “I just hope you find what you’re searching for out there. Well, also I hope that you’re kind enough to give us a proper review.”
—
“She reminds me of an elven fae. Short and lanky. Pale.” Dr. Duvert, in full Victorian dress with their arms crossed, stood in Moreau’s doorway. “Not sure why she’s worthy of an accelerated serum. What did the Keebler elves ever do to you?”
Moreau flipped open one of his journals, scribbling down a series of notes while shaking his head at his silver-haired subordinate. “They’re terrible cookies, Sabin. Not made with love.”
“Mind if we discuss the timetable for her changes. I assume she won’t have much contact with the other islanders–”
“I didn’t even send her to the village. Had one of the guards drop her luggage off at her assigned bungalow… though I doubt she’ll ever actually use the place. If everything goes to plan, she’ll be quite happy out in the jungle this afternoon.”
“By this afternoon? Moreau, that’s an insane amount of physiological stress to place on a subject. Even a transformation on a week timetable is… well… you know how those experiments have gone.”
“This time will be different.” Moreau scribbled harder. Ah, yes. Physiological and psychological stress. The burdens that plagued his wonderful island. Each islander a potential ticking time bomb of instinct and emotions. Playing with DNA brought out the worst in people, but the data proved invaluable nonetheless.
“How will it be different, Moreau?” Sabin reached up and seized the edge of their tophat, a reflex whenever they felt stress. What was Moreau’s game here? Such action was… deliberately destructive. Feral labs printed money, sure, but to be so… wasteful when past accelerated serums failed even at the animal test phase, let alone during human trials…
“She’s tough. Don’t let her size fool you. She’s got a drive for success, a desire to excel in her field. I bet she’ll still try to find samples even as her body turns.”
“What’s her medical history, though? Did she pass all the compatibility exams? We didn’t even get a chance to get a behavioral profile…”
Moreau glared at the other doctor, his amusement fading to frustration. Did Sabin really think that he wouldn’t properly screen such a valuable subject? What did his subordinate take him for? A fool?
“Sabin. Sabin. Her medical history is clean and ripe for genetic recombination. No major conditions. Male-to-female transgender, but only hormones come into play, and I’ve adjusted for those with the serum. Her constitution is solid. She’s done field work. And now, well, she’ll make a terrific hyena.”
“These accelerated serums… they just don’t work properly…”
“But this one will, Sabin. This one will. Trust me.”
“Do we have a contingency plan if she goes feral? What if she attacks the other islanders, especially the islanders who are loyal to you? Why… they could be up in arms overnight! Betrayed by their Good Doctor.”
Sabin had seen it transpire before, loyalties rewarded with punishments… eager maws now primed to bite the hand that fed them. All those relationships, their bonds tenuous, shattered in an instant. And such loyalty wasn’t easy to buy on the Island of Doctor Moreau.
“If she goes feral, she can become your next pet project.”
“My next pet project! I… I don’t want a hyena monster, Moreau. I don’t need that many spots… spotted hyena, right?”
“Yup, spotted.” Moreau crossed his arms and smiled. He loved keeping his employees on edge.
Sabin’s eyes narrowed in frustration. “I don’t need a spotted hyena to eat… bones. I don’t have any spare bones lying around, Moreau. Even if you think I do.”
Moreau’s grin widened.
—
Vell cut her way through the jungle, alternating machete chops with grasping her sore arm. Yellow fever vaccine… it wasn’t even intramuscular… Why did it hurt? Aching under her skin, forcing her to grit her teeth, encouraging her to just stop and scream in frustration. Maybe the doctor should have provided some Icy Hot, too… or at least ibuprofen.
Stopping to ease her pains, however, would distract her from her mission. Her time on this island was limited… Moreau made it sound like she’d be here a few days at the most… plus she had a life to return to, papers to write, studies to participate in, a social life to indulge.
Vell hadn’t told anyone where she’d flown off to, she hadn’t the time. Just a few messages about going on a big adventure, one bigger than most. And that had hardly been a lie.
Adventures in the underbrush, hacking away at dense vines… swatting away at persistent mosquitoes. As far as disease went, Moreau certainly hadn’t exaggerated. Good thing she’d swallowed down bitter quinine, staving off malaria for the time being.
But good lord her arm ached, enough to make her want to slam the machete into the nearest tree and snarl her frustrations at the canopy.
More mosquitoes brought more itching, Vell’s nails working overtime as she tore at her nylon rain slicker and jeans. Thick clothing, possibly too thick, but she’d wanted to ward off the bugs of the forest while she carved a path. The rain slicker, however, the poncho, soon shredded under Vell’s frantic scratching, revealing her usual field outfit.
“Blasted cheap plastic… maybe Moreau has another one.” She hissed under her breath before gritting her teeth.
Her head felt heavier, her mouth gummy and distorted. Was this heatstroke? She’d rushed into this entire affair with such excitement that maybe she’d underestimated the sapping nature of the island’s humidity.
“Bah.” Vell dropped her machete and reached around to fetch a canteen from her backpack.
That she lapped at the water rather than gulping it down was lost on her in the moment. Right now she just wanted the aches and pains to abate, the tightness in her clothing to relent. Just a rip or tear for good measure, something to take the edge off. But no such relief came, and Vell found herself snarling and gnashing her teeth as she craved more water.
Heat inside her stomach, radiating around her entire core, made her feel like punching the adjacent tree. The urge to snap, crunch, let loose a hint of rage at her discomfort crawled into her mind and took up permanent residence. Try as she might, she couldn’t push aside the thought that her human skin felt… wrong. Where was her pelt? Where were her fangs and claws? How could she run like this? How could she scavenge?
“Urrrrr…” The growl in her throat welled and grew as she closed up her canteen. Not a single new plant specimen collected, only discomfort and growing anger. None of this was right. She needed to be free from that sweltered jungle heat, tucked away in a burrow as she waited for nightfall.
In the dark, she could run unburdened.
Vell fell to a crouch as a fresh welling of pain raced down her spine. This forced a cry from her mouth, an awkward, stifled sound that reverberated between human and animal.
Wait. No. This wasn’t right. None of this was right–
Her back hunched and lurched upward, bone and muscle twitching and expanding into a discernible hump. Vell hissed, digging her fingers into the forest detritus, fallen leaves, mud, and the insects that scurried about searching for their next meal.
A part of her mind screamed for the hunt, the grand scavenge, warding off the other predators of the island as she staked her carrion claim, but Vell shoved it aside. No, no. This simply wouldn’t do. She’d been drugged in some capacity, a delirant that made her think her flesh was no longer her own. Spores in the air, perhaps? Chemical exposure? She hadn’t sampled any plants by taste, not yet at least. When she was feeling daring, she’d nibble on a piece of rootwood, sure, but the vision of spotted fur, bulging inhuman muscle, and bared fangs felt all too real.
Never did she put together that the ‘vaccine’ she’d received a few hours prior, one with an injection site that ached and itched, might be culprit for her present state.
“You’ve got one… rrrrrr… messed up island… Doc.” The voice that slipped past Vell’s lips was guttural, growling, impossibly deep with a snarl that emerged every other syllable.
At the base of her spine, a fresh bulge inched outward, flesh coating new vertebrae that linked together and moved with a mind of their own. A stubby tail, in its entirety, but one still long enough for Vell to swivel her swelling maw up over her hairy shoulder and witness her… new appendage…
No, no. Just a hallucination, albeit one that felt real with each frantic swish of her new appendage.
Onward. Deeper into the foliage. She had to lose herself among the vines and, should her claws continue to ache, rake them up and down the trees around her. Such action could blunt the pain, right? Even these nervous tingles and–
No, no. The stubby claws were just in her head. The spotted fur? All inside her head. Ditto to the tail. In a flash, fresh rips and tears emerged through an outfit desperately clinging to muscular bulk. What fabric remained intact served as a reminder of her previous form and occupation.
She just had to carry onward, all poisons eventually subsided.
—
“Talk about accelerated.” Dr. Duvert glared at a flickering research monitor, its connected aerial camera offering a perfect view of Vell’s metamorphosis. “Incredible.”
Moreau frantically scribbled down notes, his short-hand notation a series of looping circles and the occasional exclamation mark. “She’s thrashing around quite a bit. Snarling. Reacting… poorly. Too instinctual. Bah. Why can’t we keep the mind as a blank slate, Sabin? Why are we stuck with these instincts that seem to lurk inside DNA… inside each cell? I’m no neurologist, but–”
“That’s our problem. We don’t have a neurologist on the team. If there’d be anyone to add…”
Moreau paused for a moment and then nodded in agreement. “I think we could budget for that. Top of their field. Might save us a lot of heartache as we try to resolve these… issues.”
“With the mind, we’re truly venturing into untold territory.”
“Oh. I know. That’s what makes it fun, Sabin.”
—
A few final, definitive shakes rippled across the hulking hyena woman’s frame. Propped up on her hands and knees, Vell hissed under her breath as the throbbing heat in her muscles finally abated, leaving in its place a feeling of strength. Her attuned senses absorbed the sounds and smells of the jungle around her, and Vell realized that she’d never really been alone out here, only alone to limited human senses. Before she only cared about what she could directly see, but now she smelled and heard an entire ecosystem more vibrant to her enhanced nose and ears.
The urge to hunt, to seek out sustenance, lingered at the forefront of Vell’s mind. Stumbling through the underbrush, vines and low-hanging branches smacking against her hulking frame, she fought to stave off such unsavory instincts, instead keeping herself rooted, no pun intended, on her botanical goal.
No deliriant lasted forever. Even a datura nightmare came to an end.
Flowers. Rare flowers. Flowers she could… hrrr… document as she gnashed her teeth and crushed bones. How many bones? Never enough. Fresh marrow. Stale marrow. A scavenger’s delight.
Vell raised her blocky snout to the air, taking a deep huff as she tried to find pollen, not meat, on the wind. Exotic orchids.
She paused near a puddle, its depths murky, but its surface reflective just enough for her to make out her new shape. Big, blocky snout. Wide nostrils, pebbled and dark. Eyes that still retained an aura of humanity, a recognizable gaze that Vell could grasp onto as herself instead of a strange hyena beast.
“So you’re my hallucination. My nightmare. A shame that I don’t hate hyenas. I think they get a bad rap.” Vell realized that she kinda liked her distorted voice, how she sounded to her ears and–
A wild boar crashed through the foliage next to her, immediately acting on Vell’s predatory instincts to chase.
Spotted hyenas, not always scavengers. Sometimes they’d pursue prey themselves. Vell gave chase, and while she didn’t quite have the speed or coordination to catch the feral hog, she followed as best she could manage.
But the distractions of the jungle wore away at her shaken mind.
Something caught her eye, snapped her out of the thrill of the chase. Suddenly the hog didn’t matter, no.
Vell hadn’t ever seen a proper blood orchid, outside of a fanciful portrayal in a terrible Anaconda sequel. Yet a small patch of flowers emerged from a crack in a stony hillside. The jungle’s vines didn’t strangle these orchids, no, they’d lucked out. Insulated and protected from competition, fearing not the birds and creatures of the jungle kept away by scarlet coloring that even seeped into the stalk itself. Little photosynthesis available deep in the under foliage, but this plant persevered.
“Hello, there.” Vell, even with a distorted voice, couldn’t resist talking to her plants.
Hers? Yes, yes. She needed to take a sample for her collection. One she could grow, protected, in a neatly maintained little pot that could get all the natural light it needed ahead of yielding seeds. Then she could grow more, dissect and photograph them, and get all the necessary angles for proper paper exhibits.
Though challenged by her toughened hands, fingers stubby and clumsy, Vell managed to delicately extract the flower, lifting up a chunk of sod containing the roots. Glistening crimson petals, a little sunset in plant form, captured the light perfectly for Vell to fumble her way through her knapsack for her camera. She’d take a few shots now, quick candid pieces.
“Scavenge later… hunt later… flower now… take pictures of flowers now…” She muttered to herself if only to hear her growly, guttural voice.
As far as samples and photos went, Vell managed best she could. She took more than she needed, getting angles that she’d keep for her own photo journals rather than scientific publishing, but she made sure to have more than enough.
—
Vell burst out of the clearing, alternating between a four-legged gait and a bipedal stance that balanced precariously on her proportionally shrunken legs. She paced the laboratory fence, waiting for Moreau… a guard… anyone, to come fetch her and listen to her delirium ravings. Oh what stories she had to tell, visions of becoming a fearsome hyena, the struggle of handling her altered physique, her clumsy hands that felt like permanent lead-lined gloves, and her constant sensory overload, and–
A narrow door, hidden but for a small outline in the blank walls of the complex, slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Moreau himself, clad in reflective aviators and sporting a wry smile, stepped out into the sunlight. He raised his arms, only to clasp them together.
“Sometimes, I even shock myself.” He stood a few feet before her.
Vell whined and, without thinking, knelt her head against the mesh-wire fence. Stupid, terribly stupid on her part. What if said fence had a current running through it? Fried, smokey fur wasn’t exactly a look…
Wait, no… for it to be fried, it’d have to be real. Sure, it felt real in how her pelt… pushed against her tattered and strained clothes… and rustled in the constant ocean breeze. There’d been no wind in the jungle, but now she felt her whiskers twitch and bob.
“Moreau, you’re not going to believe this. You’ve got some plant or fungus with deliriant properties out in the jungle. I… I’m hallucinating… dissociating right now, sorta, but I think I’m a… hehehe… he-hyena. Can you believe that?”
Moreau eyed up the bulky hyena creature leaning against the fence, the tattered clothing and human hair blending into her mane the only indicator that she’d once been human. Well, that and the fact that she seemed cheerful about the whole ‘hallucination’ ordeal.
Too bad that Moreau, for the sake of his experiment, needed to end her fun. Scientific integrity, and all that.
“Ms. Cornelia. Congratulations on being our first accelerated metamorphosis success stories. Quite an impressive achievement. Your mental fortitude resisted the allure of genetic memories, embedded instincts.”
“Oh. So, I should actually be freaking out, then.” Vell glanced down at her upturned palms, puffy pads coated in dirt from taking flower samples. “Wonderful.”
“Our amenities, however, are actually finished. Beyond your bungalow, you’ll find a world-class cafeteria, an entertainment complex complete with gym and spa, and of course our fabulous beaches.”
The way the pitch rolled off his tongue made Moreau feel ever the part of the salesman, but in a way that made sense. His vision, in all its grandeur, required a confident delivery.
“Okay, so this… this goes away?” Vell poked at her snout, her tongue involuntarily lolling out of her mouth past her fangs as she prodded her muzzle.
“No! It doesn’t! You’re like that… forever! Part of my new world. It’s quite an honor, really.”
“Ah. I see.” Vell wrinkled her nose and bared her fangs, stifling back another laugh.
Hyenas laugh when they’re nervous, Vell remembered that quick factoid from an Animal Planet special, and she certainly felt nervous enough given the startling revelation that maybe, just maybe, she might never see home again. Also she might never see humanity again, her old face lost, cast away, hidden behind a muzzle and fur.
Real, this madness was real. The changes? Real. That pain wasn’t imagined. Her body really contorted and twisted into such a beastly form.
Vell clutched the flower tighter against her tensed abdominal muscles. “Moreau, at my apartment back on the mainland… I have plant samples and…”
Brushing off her concerns with a wave of his hand, Moreau drew nearer to the fence, so close that Vell could see her own altered reflection in his aviators. “I can send someone from the company to take care of your affairs, Vell.”
Moreau, indeed, could do that. A housekeeper. A caretaker. Anything to make sure Vell's greenhouse kept on kicking with no questions asked from the neighbors.
“So, Vell. About that review…”
Vell, staring daggers, glanced down at the flower cupped between her callused pads. The petals drooped further, a few stands of dew running along their edge. So picturesque. So perfect. Did such a stark revelation, a betrayal by another scientist, really have to ruin her exploratory discovery vacation?
No. No, it didn’t.
Vell merely stood on the edge of the new frontier, thrust forward to experience what it truly meant to be human. Plants she could understand, but animals were a whole different ball game. She wasn’t afraid though, no.
Such power was to be cherished.
Her hackles raised and her teeth bared, fangs glistening with saliva, and a fresh giggling laugh welled in her throat, husky and predatory.
“Moreau. I think it’s still a little too early to give you a final score.”
Category Story / Transformation
Species Hyena
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 105.9 kB
Comments