It had been months. Long, slow, painful months, consisting of defeat after defeat and dead end after dead end. The so-called 'Full Moon Killer' had struck eight times, each lunar month on the full moon every time. His or her victims were found mangled, torn and sometimes partially eaten. All of the evidence seemed at first to point to some monstrous dog. The hair found at the scenes was distinctly canine. The bite-marks on the victim's bodies fit a canine dentition. But Karen White refused to believe that this was orchestrated by some stray mutt with out of control growth genes.

Things just didn't add up. A dog that size stalking the city, unseen, for eight months? She might have been able to bring herself to believe that if it weren't for the fact that the killer struck every full moon. A mad dog wouldn't show those serial killer patterns, and there had never been a dog that could leave claw marks in a victim to put a cougar to shame. And Karen had always been a determined and stubborn woman; it was what made her a brilliant forensic scientist. A case had never eluded her methods for so long, and she took it as a personal challenge. It didn't take her co-workers long to notice; she slaved away in front of the data, testing samples over and over again. She was driving herself to exhaustion, but she wouldn't hear it; the case had to be solved, before the killer struck again.

"Here's your coffee. Any breakthroughs on our 'werewolf' yet?" A young black woman with frizzy hair slid up next to Karen, her long curly mess thrown back into a ponytail just as Karen's own red hair was.

Karen was about ready to be annoyed with Maria before she took a taste of the coffee her friend had given her. Caramel. Her favorite. So, instead, she just tsked at her friend. "You know better than to call it that." She chided. As a woman of logic, the tabloids and the general public suggesting that the killer could only be the supernatural beast of myth was offensive. "It's just some freak copycat. And I'm going to catch him. The blood is on its way even as we speak." Normally soft brown eyes burned with obsessive passion. "Once we have DNA, it's all over."

The Full Moon Killer had been incredibly elusive up to then. No one besides the victims ever saw it, and those poor souls weren't talking. But this time, a young woman had been attacked in the alleys behind her home. A likely victim, until she'd drawn the handgun she kept for personal protection from her purse. A few shots had supposedly scared the killer off; the woman got away with nothing more than a few scratches and a bite. The police said she'd babbled like all the rest about some monster assailing her, but that wasn't what Karen was interested in now. It was the blood that had spilled at the scene, which was on its way to her right now.

"Karen, honey, it's so late. You should have left this stuffy old lab hours ago… Not to mention me. The killer won't strike again for another lunar month. Can't you wait till tomorrow? You're exhausted."

While Karen knew Maria was looking out for her best interests, her pride wouldn't let her leave this one alone. It felt like every killing where she'd failed to ID the perpetrator was on her soul. "You just go ahead without me Maria. I'll run a few tests on the blood, and then I swear I'll go home and go to sleep."

Maria looked uncertain, but she was almost as tired and Karen. "I probably should argue with you… Just take care of yourself, alright?"

"Mm." Karen had already gone back to her relentless studies. She didn't even hear Maria leave.

The blood samples came in and she went into a frenzy of work. So focused was she that she completed test after test after test in a fraction of the time it would usually take. Strictly speaking, she shouldn't have been performing some of the tests alone, and she shouldn't have been working in her exhausted state, but she no longer cared. There was only her, and the work. Only her and the blood.

"This… This can't be! Dammit!" The results said that whatever had shed this blood wasn't human. She ran the test again and again, but the outcome was always the same. Exhausted and frustrated, she slammed her hands on her desk, swearing. There was sharp tinkling sound, and she looked up, swearing once more. On the floor was her blood sample, the glass around it broken. She didn't know what she was thinking. Maybe she was exhausted, maybe she was frustrated, maybe she'd just taken leave of her senses, but she forgot all procedure and reached down to pick up the glass. It was common knowledge that any blood should always be considered infected, and it would soon become clear why.

With a soft feminine gasp, she snapped her arm back, staring down at a shard of glass sticking out of the palm of her hand. "Oh…" That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all. With all due haste, she rushed to the pristine white sink and the disinfecting flush, but halfway there she wobbled and stumbled to one knee. Placing her hand to her forehead, she found that it was beading with sweat. Indeed, her lab coat was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. Was she woozy from seeing the wound? It seemed unlikely; she was hardly squeamish, as a forensic scientist.

Rising, she made it the rest of the way, ignoring a heat that felt strangely invasive. Ignoring the horrible burning sensation the disinfectant caused on her cut, she flushed the wound. The pain slowly began to fade. Her slender eyebrows furrowed, and she pulled her hand out of the stream. As the blood drained into the sink, she gasped. "What… What in the world…?" Bringing her hand into the light, gripping her wrist to steady it, she saw that her eyes hadn't deceived her; the wound had already closed, leaving only a thin pink scar where it had been.

"This… This isn't… Ow… Ow." Her injured hand was beginning to clench and stiffen painfully. The muscles were tightening, twitching, sharp waves of agony coursing up her arms. Closing her eyes tightly, she leaned back against the wall, her chest rising and falling heavily as a bead of sweat slid down her cheek. "Ah… Ah…" The pains persisted, and she suddenly knew that matters were worse than she'd first thought. Fever, shortness of breath and muscle spasms? "How could I have –ah!- been so stupid?" She gasped. This required attention, and fast; whatever that stupid animal had, it was contagious, and serious. Moving away from the wall reluctantly, she hauled her overheating pain-wracked self to the phone, picking it up as she fought down a growing sense of dread.

The phone clattered to the floor as the agony in her hand suddenly spiked, her good hand gripping her wrist desperately as she cried out. Her hand twitched uncontrollably, her eyes widening as muffled pops came from it. Disbelief mingled with horror on her face as before her very eyes her nails began to sharpen, her hand starting to stretch with wrenching slowness. It was agony, certainly, but the horror washed even that away as she gasped for breath and gaped helplessly. Her mind seized, unable to comprehend this impossibility, and were it not for that shocking pain she would have been certain that lack of sleep was causing her to hallucinate.

The gears began to turn at last when she saw little reddish-brown hairs beginning to sprout on the back of her quivering hand. Logic was her creed, and even when faced with what should have been pure fiction, it served her well. Her mind raced, and all she could think of was the killer's modus operandi, the fact that she'd been infected with their blood, and that a full moon hung in the sky outside as her hand became a clawed paw. There was only one plausible answer.

She fell back against the wall, her legs growing weak with the realization. "W… werewolf…" She breathed, brown eyes wide with fear. "Holy shit." Suddenly, she doubled over, holding her arm close to her body and squeezing her eyes shut as more pops came from her changing hand. "Ahhhh! Dammit!" The fur was thickening, her digits crunching as they shortened slightly. The killer had been a werewolf after all, and she was becoming one.

A sudden steely determination rose up within her. Not if she could help it. There had to be something she could do to treat this, anything. Fighting through the pain, she pushed away from the wall. She tore her lab coat away from her increasingly hot body, before collapsing onto a stool next to a lab table. She quickly flipped open a notebook, pulling the long sleeve of her dark red button-up blouse away from her changing arm. The fur was creeping further now, hairs pricking up on the back of her forearm. "Ahh… Ah!" She cried out as her hand popped and crunched once more, claws lengthening and hand stretching. Minute by minute it was becoming something malformed, resembling a paw as much as a hand as the auburn hair thickened on her digits. Her hand twitched uncontrollably, sweat sliding down her forehead and over her arm. Picking up a pen in her still normal hand, she did something only a scientist would do: She documented.

12:45 a.m.

Minutes after first exposure to tainted blood. Sample from so-called 'Full Moon Killer' entered through a cut in the right hand. Symptoms include fever, muscle spasms, and

She paused, her breath catching in her throat as she felt a sudden strange panic. It was as thought writing it down would make it true. But Karen White was not a weak woman, and she pushed through. If anyone was to have hope of helping her, these notes could be crucial, and she already understood that she had at best a slim chance of halting the mysterious processes beginning to take her.

alteration of bone and muscle structure, as well as hair growth. I cannot help but note despite severe misgivings that tonight is a full moon, and that the killer's modus operandi closely resembles the myth of the werewolf. I am forced to call this affliction lycanthropy. The disease- for she didn't know what else to call it- is spreading from the point of infection. My hand now more closely resembles- a tear slid down her face, making a wet spot on the paper- an animal's claw than a human appendage.

The pain was beginning to mount again, and she squeezed her eyes shut and hunched her shoulders, leaning heavily on the desk for support as her hand quivered. "Shit… Shit… Ohhh…" She let out a low moan as more pops came, this time from her wrist as it jerked and subtly changed shape, her palms and fingers burning as rough pads formed on her… her paw.

The change is working its way up my arm. The pain is excruciating. Will begin attempted treatments now.

Throwing the pen down, she moved from her seat and dashed across the lab to a nearby stark white cabinet. Hastily unlocking it, she began to rifle through the various chemicals there. They were a forensic lab, but Maria was always insistent on keeping a few key medical supplies on hand- perhaps a memento from her days as a medical doctor. Stray red hairs that had flown from the restraint of her ponytail clung to her sweaty forehead, the pain and a strange heat causing her milky white skin to perspire. Invasive as it was, she refused to let it bother her as she purposefully collected several needles and several small containers of various antibiotics. It was a longshot, but she was desperate, and nothing like this had ever been medically seen before.

She rushed back to her stool, uncertain just how much time she had left. She immediately popped the plastic caps off of the various bottles, before sticking the first needle through the rubber top of one. She placed her transforming arm on the table, and with the pain of the changes ravaging it, she didn't even feel the prick of the needle as she injected the chemical just slightly ahead of where the fur was growing. She waited, for there was nothing else she could do.

A drop of sweat slid down her slender neck, and her good hand tugged at the collar of her red blouse. Another symptom of the transformation, it had to be, but she felt like she was in a sauna. Maybe if she opened a window… Maybe if she opened a window, she would transform fully and escape. The thought made her shudder, but the heat was growing so strong, and the constant lancing pain from her arm was wearing steadily away at her tolerance for discomfort. She untucked her blouse from her black skirt, tugging at it restlessly to let some of the heat free, unbuttoning the first two buttons. The blouse was still sticking to her uncomfortably, sweat sliding over her skin and exposed cleavage. Suddenly, she gave a small bark of laughter. This was ridiculous; she was alone, and besides… Besides, if this change progressed too much, she wouldn't be needing her clothing. That thought was chilling, but she had to focus, and overheating wasn't doing anyone any good. So she undid all of the buttons of her blouse, baring sweaty C-cup breasts in a serviceable white bra. Sweat was still beading on her chest, but the cool air did offer her some small solace.

She needed all the comfort she could get when the pain in her arm sparked again. She hunched over the changing limb, crying out as she bent over the table. "Ahh! Dammit!" The fur was creeping up her arm ever further, past the point of injection. The tiny prick the needle had left healed up almost immediately, and Karen quickly produced her pen once more.

Amoxicillin ineffective.

She couldn't give up. She refused to allow this damned disease strip her humanity from her! Quickly seizing a new needle, she tried again with a new infection-fighting chemical. And when that failed, she tried again, and again, desperation welling up in her chest as everything she threw at her transformation fell miserably short.

…ineffective…
…ineffective…
…ineffective…

Each time her scribbling grew more and more frantic, tears forming in her brown eyes as she threw the last bottle on the ground in a fit. As it shattered, her head fell into her good hand, her body shaking with sobs and pain. Her read hair was drenched in sweat, and heedless to all of her attempts the infection continued to climb up her arm, reaching her elbow, making her squirm and cry out with every little bit of her it took away. She would lose to this. She would become another full moon killer, a vicious beast.

A sudden idea came to her, and in her current state she was willing to cling to anything. Perhaps a tourniquet could stop all of this! If this were a snake bite, the venom would have long ago moved away from the injection site, but this infection was moving so slowly and in such a linear fashion… Maybe it wasn't too late! She struggled off of her stool, quickly gathering surgical tubing. As tightly as she possible, she tied it off midway up her upper arm, yanking as hard as she could. Then she collapsed back into her seat, horror and hope mingling on her face with pain as she watched the change creep… creep… and stop. She let out a half-hysterical laugh, panting heavily as she released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. If she could simply hold out until the sun rose… The full moon killer only struck at night, when the moon was full! When the moon went down, surely these changes would abate, and she could seek…

Crack. It was such a tiny sound, but the pain of it left her gasping, her chest heaving with every pained breath, body tensed and straining as sweat slid down her bra-clad breasts and flat stomach. The change was still advancing, she could feel it. It was slowed severely, but the tourniquet couldn't hold it back for another five hours for the sun to rise. Tears slid down her cheeks as she realized that, at best, she'd prolonged her agony, bought a little time. The continued pains in her arm told her that it was time to abandon hope.

It had been in the back of her mind ever since she'd realized what was happening to her. Heart pounding in her throat, she lifted her clawed paw, staring at it and envisioning the monster she would become if she didn't have the courage to stop this. It twitched and spasmed as though begging to be unleashed to take the rest of her body. Standing, she moved apprehensively to a large cabinet, opening it and sifting through the various cutting tools they used for autopsies. Her hand wrapped around the handle of a large bonesaw, her pale face going even whiter at the prospect. She trembled as she went back to sit at the desk. Think. She had to think this through.

As best as she could, she disconnected herself from the situation, analyzing it like any good scientist would. She would exsanguinate if she amputated without some way to staunch the blood loss. Amputate. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling bile in the back of her throat. Better to lose an arm than to lose herself and become what she'd been fighting all this time. She had to steel herself. She had to be strong. Right now, it seemed like the best way to stem the bleeding would be to somehow cauterize the wound. And to do that, she needed something to heat.

Looking around, she quickly found an old red chair in the supply closet, a relic of back before they'd gotten funding they'd desperately needed. She broke off the leg of the chair with unsteady hands. Shivers went up her spine. With her transformed limb, it was easy, and she left claw marks behind without ever meaning too. Those claws would rip through a person like tissue paper… And this realization helped her to find her resolve. She could do this. She had to do this. A Bunsen burner was lit, and without hesitation she thrust the end of the chair leg into its modest flame, pains from her transforming limb spurring her on. She did her best to just focus on the flame, to wash out her thoughts until the deed was done, and failed to notice a small tendril of smoke as it wafted up to the ceiling, produced by flecks of burning red paint on the leg of the chair.

The sudden screeching of the fire alarm made her jump and scream, the Bunsen burner tipping and the chair leg flying from her hand. The sudden torrential downpour from the fire suppression system made her shriek again. The water put out the burner, heavenly on her overheating skin, drenching her open blouse and white bra. She almost panicked, before she recalled that their fire alarm wasn't connected automatically to the outside; the fire department wouldn't be coming, unless she called them. She gave a nervous laugh, reaching up and shutting off the fire alarm. Well, that had been a big…

"Uh!" She grunted, falling to her knees on the wet floor as agony tore up her arm. She grabbed at her shoulder, staring in horror down at the floor. "N… No…" She breathed. There was her makeshift tourniquet, lying in a small puddle, the slick material having slid off of her wet skin. A desperate hand groped for it on the wet floor, but another shot of pain left her falling to all fours, brown eyes wide as her pupils shrunk to pinpricks. Wet crunches worked their way up the remainder of her arm, her slender body quivering as water dripped off of it. Her breasts bounced in their damp bra as she gasped as though immersed suddenly in cold water, the pain taking her beyond cries for a brief moment. Auburn fur poked its way up her shoulders.

Suddenly, her whole body jerked, her heart thumping violently. "Oh god…" She breathed, sweat mingling with water as her heart began to beat faster and faster. Her still human hand shot up to press between her breasts, clutching at her chest. Her breaths were coming in heavy involuntary pants, her blood suddenly fire in her veins. Her shoulders rose and fell as if she'd just run a marathon, a horrible feeling beginning to well up in her entire body. "No. No. No. You can't." She protested weakly. She could feel it coiling up inside of her like a spring even as it now rushed to every portion of her body. There was no more hope; she could not beat this. "Stop! I can fight this! I can! I ca-" CRUNCH. "AUGH! Fuck!"

She fell onto her side, body curling naturally into the fetal position as red-hot pain assaulted her gut. Her arms wrapped around her flat stomach, tears streaming down her face, her mouth open but only letting out a few strangled feminine gasps. Her stomach gave forth horrible squelching noises. She could feel things moving around, her organs wrenching and jerking inside of her, twisting her with agony. But no sooner had she curled up than her back suddenly arched to the sound of another deafening crunch. All she could do was scream and sob quietly as her chest arched out, soft curves glistening with moisture where the bra wasn't sticking to them, her body straining as though it intended to break her spine. Crack. Crack. CRACK. They were coming closer and closer together, sinuous body writhing as it was forced to arch again and again, breasts pressed tight against her bra.

She could feel her ribs beginning to push out, crunching sickeningly as they pressed against her milky white skin, her feminine chest extending inch by inch. Soon her bra was pressing her soft breasts tight against her ribcage as it continued to thrust outwards. Her hand reached up, tugging at it, but before she could remove it, her good hand was seized in agony as well. She could only watch as horribly pops and crunches wrenched her human hand into another vicious claw, dark fur already sprouting in patches on her pale skin. "Please! Pleeeease!" Thin hair was beginning to pop up on her shoulders and in the crevice between her breasts, tracing a path down her stomach past her belly button even as a twin line popped up on her spine.

Pushing through her agony, she rolled over onto her stomach, clawing at her bra. Painful spasms in her back prevented her from removing it, her shoulders hunching reflexively. She caught a look at herself in the metal side of the desk, and screamed in a mixture of torture and desperately denial. The eyes that looked back at her were the deep amber of a predator, her teeth fangs. Her ears were burning as they began to point. "No, stop, please, I can't become this! Please! I'm Karen White! I'm not a monster! I'm not a monster! I'm- Ah! AH!"

The spasms suddenly mounted, her spine jerking, causing her arch her back towards the ceiling. "Oh god. Oh god, make it stop. It hurts…" She moaned softly, her throat aching from all the screaming. But the change wasn't slowing; it was accelerating. Her spine was beginning to lengthen, her delicate torso stretching. Every bit of added length was torture, her body becoming bigger. Crack! Her body pressed against the back of her blouse, spine showing clearly through the drenched, translucent red fabric. Crack! Her back pushed up even as her spine pushed out, her body growing larger, her blouse splitting open along her spine with a long tearing sound, revealing her pale flesh and the straining clasp of her bra as her vertebrae writhed and pushed ever upward. Squishing sounds announced lean muscle beginning to pile onto her back and arms, the sleeves of her blouse straining before they split with a pop, the tear on her back finally ripping the clothing roughly in half. Her spine continued to press along the feminine line of her back to gasps and moans of horrid pain, the line of fur following its progress and thickening. The shreds of her blouse fell uselessly to her sides, the stretchy fabric of her bra refusing to give up the ghost and free her wet, straining breasts and persistently expanding body.

A chorus of tiny pops suddenly came from her lower back. "Ahhh… Ahhhh…" She moaned softly, too exhausted to cry out. The noises were coming from just under her damp black skirt, originating from where the line of fur had disappeared under her clothing. The popping noises grew more and more persistent, little needles of pain assaulting her with every one, before her whole body wrenched again. The popping grew nearly deafening, her arms losing their strength and sending her upper body to the ground. She buried her head in her arms and screamed, back twisting up and down, her backbone feeling as though it were ripping out of her. Her claws dug into the tiles, her bra-clad breasts pressing tight against the floor as she quivered with her rear thrust into the air. The back of her skirt suddenly began to lift, a long wolf's tail peeking out, fully clad in auburn fur and standing straight, stiff with pain. She looked back and wept with despair. "I-I'm K-Karen… K-Karen White…" She whispered repeatedly through the pain.

Her hips twisted, the button on her skirt giving a snap as it popped open, the article of clothing sliding over her toned, round butt and down her long white legs. Her heels had long since fallen off, and so she was left naked save for her undergarments. And those were soon to go. One last painful heave of her upper body and the clasp of her bra snapped, her ample chest falling free of the restrictive garment as it fell away, her damp breasts bouncing as she sucked in her first free breaths since her ribs had begun pushing out. If only that were some relief; through the torment of the wrenching transformation wracking her, she scarcely noticed.

"K-Kar… K-Karen… Oh… Oh god… AH!" The change took her hips, twisting and breaking as it needed, fur beginning to sprout on her thighs. Toes curled in as her nails stretched into the claws and her feet became paws, arches stretching and rough pads burning into existence. Shapely legs cracked and twisted, losing their long attractive shape, curling beneath her as they fit a digitigrade stance. Her round, defined butt lost its feminine curviness as it melted into the raw muscle of a wolf, flesh burning as her body gained liquid steel muscle and gave forth fur.

"Ka- AH! Jesus Christ! AUUUGH!" With a few final cracks, her chest pushed fully forward, breasts heaving and jiggling with the violent motions as she bucked and tossed, water flying off of them and the rest of her body. Then, they too were burning, tiny hairs sprouting on them as wet sounds saw them flattening and shrinking, inviting curves soon lost in the barrel chest of the beast she was becoming, save for the nipples that joined several more forming on her stomach.

Karen… White… I am… Karen… White…

She shrieked as though she were dying, her entire skull feeling like it were splitting beneath her skin. There were no words, no profanities that could describe it, amber wolfish eyes wide as she stared into her reflection. Her full lips were beginning to lose definition, a sudden crack thrusting her sharp teeth forward in her mouth. She shrieked again, but her voice was warped, the scream trailing off into twisted growl halfway between a woman's wail of agony and a wolf's snarl.

Maria. Maria would be coming in before dawn, to prep the lab for everyone. She would come before the sun rose. She… No! No! Karen couldn't face that! She refused to kill her best friend! Never! She should have killed herself while she had the chance! But her will was useless; it was like trying to stop a tidal wave with your mind. There was nothing at all she could hold on to.

I have to remember… For her… I am… Karen White… Karen… Karen…

Her jaw thrust forward, her golden eyes squeezing shut, her nose turning up. The crunching was horrible, drowning out even the sound of her mangled screams, trying to drown out thought.

I… I… Karen… Karen…

Her mind was beginning to fog, her red hair blending into a mane that grew around her slender neck as it thickened for her growing skull. Drool dripped down her long teeth, her face pushing ever forward, fuzz growing on her cheeks as her ears pushed up to the top of her head.

K… Karen… Karen…

Her name slipped away. Words slipped away. Identity slipped away. There was only agony in that final fearful part of her. Then her mind changed with her skull, everything that was Karen White dying as even her very sense of self twisted into something ugly and violent. Golden eyes snapped open, a low rumble in her throat as the wolf was born for the first time.

* * * * *

It wrenched and hurt just as much as the first transformation, but when Karen's body was returned to her she remembered no more of the change back than the wolf had of being a woman. Soft sunlight fell onto her naked form. She blinked blearily, before starting awake. She suddenly shot up, even as every muscle in her frail form protested and burned, sore from her ordeal. She'd hoped that she would wake up, snug in her bed or asleep at her desk, to find that everything had been a nightmare. Instead, she found herself staring through the bars of a portable cage, like the ones animal control had to ship large feral animals in, nestled into the corner of her ruined lab. She was naked, goosebumps rising over her milky flesh as she curled up and covered her bare breasts with her hands.

And there on the outside of the bars was Maria, her eyes wide with something far beyond shock, her hair frayed and her dark skin pale. "K-Karen… Oh… Oh god Karen."

There was a clipboard in Maria's hands. She was taking notes. Karen had become an object of study. "Maria… You're alive…" She breathed, exhausted. The relief was momentary; the sorrow came on her like a tsunami, her body curling in on itself as she suddenly sobbed. "What… What the hell am I?"

"We'll find you help, Karen, we-we'll do anyth-"

"Shut up." She whispered as she sobbed. "Just… shut up." They both knew. She was a werewolf now, a beast of myth that had no right even existing. Even were there a cure that could be found in her lifetime, she had no hope of seeing it before she was poked and prodded, documented and understood. She was not a woman any longer. She was a research subject.

Maria was silent, biting her lower lip and not meeting Karen's eyes. "Well, look at the bright side… You solved the riddle of the full moon killer after all."

Karen could not help a bitter laugh.