Summers Transformation

By Grisli Aklark
Summer crouched down and placed his left hand in the turf in front of him. He took a deep breath. Leaning forward, he balanced most of his body weight on his hand. He looked up. Inches from the front of his helmet stood one of opposing teams offensive guards. To his right was the center. This center took the ball into his hand. Summer could see the guard in front of him had balanced too heavily on his hand. Summer lowered his center of gravity. He could hear the snap count. Summer wasnt the brightest kid in the school, but he was probably the brightest on the football team. He had noticed a pattern. He was confident this snap would be on three. After the second hut! he lowered himself just slightly and though he stared the guard in the eyes, he could see the moment the ball started to move from the ground in front of the center to the quarterback. The offense was in a shotgun formation, and on third and long the decision was almost certainly to be a pass. As soon as the ball started moving, Summer exploded forward. For defensive linemen, leaning on the forward hand helps with the forward push. For the offensive linemen, like the one Summer stood across from, leaning on that forward hand gave the pass rusher to opportunity to knock you completely off-balance by attacking that arm. This is exactly what Summer did. As the center tossed the ball back to his quarterback, Summer attacked the guards arm, and he went down instantly. Summer had managed to get an upward swing during this movement and, thanks to his linebackers blitz ahead of him, the center was already occupied by the time Summer pushed through the line. Dead in front of him was the quarterback. Summer didnt have the advantage of surprise he wasnt on the quarterbacks blind side. However, just as he broke through, he saw the defensive end on the QBs blind side also break through. Summer had stumbled getting over the downed guard, but his DE had come at full stride. Summer knew the QB sensed the pressure, and would probably throw the ball just half a second before he could get there. His DE, however, still had the surprise. Summer, therefore, came off a bit slower until his DE was on top of the quarterback and then ran right in front of him. The timing could not have been better. The defensive end wrapped one arm around the front of the quarterback, and with the other, managed to slash the arm as it was back in throwing position. The ball was not knocked out behind the QB, as the DE had hoped, but it did come free prematurely as the arm was coming forward to throw the ball away. Summer leapt at the right moment, extended his arms, and snagged the football out of mid-air and in full running stride. He broke instantly for the end-zone. He looked over his left shoulder and saw nothing. He didnt let up his pace though. Twenty yards. Ten yards. Five, one, touchdown! Summer scored. He stopped a foot inside the end zone. The play was over. He expected to turn around and see enthusiastic defenders rushing to celebrate with

him and disappointed offensive players leaving the field to make way for their special teams defense. He never got the chance. He had turned halfway around when the helmet of the tight end from the offense crashed right into his side. He could feel something in his hip snap. His body flew backwards. Summer had no idea what was coming, and didnt have time to adjust his landing. He landed on his head, the weight of his body crunching down on the back of his neck. The sound of the crowd changed from jubilant cheering to disbelief and anger. Summer could hear the refs blowing whistles; he could see from his supine position his teammates rushing to exact vengeance on the offender. Then he blacked out. He woke up in a hospital bed. He had no idea how long hed been out. His cot was behind a set of curtains, but he could hear what, excited? no, definitely nervous chattering from the other side. ...treating me like fuckin Mengele or something, said an angry mans voice. John, keep your voice down. There are patients here, responded an exasperated woman. I saved that boys life, and theyre firing me for it. Im on my way out. You think I give a shit who hears me now, Darlene? They could have recommended you lose your license. They still could, is that what you want? The man didnt respond. The curtains were thrown back, flooding Summers curtained-off room with light. The man who had been talking stood before him. When he saw that Summers eyes were open, that he was awake, his expression changed from disgusted anger to a sort of smug grin. And how are we feeling, young man? spoke the doctor, in a friendly but authoritative tone. He must have been ex-military, like Summers father. Thats the way his dad always spoke, anyway. Summer attempted to sit up. His body was weak and his muscles wouldnt obey him. He tried to speak but his throat was parched and dry. How long had he been out? The doctor saw Summer try and move and rushed over. Placing a hand on his chest to keep him still, the doctor spoke again. Whoa now, youve been on some heavy anesthetics, better you dont try to move too much. Were gonna get you better soon. Summer could feel the cold touch of the mans hand against his chest, only it wasnt his chest. Summers chest had been large, mostly muscle but a healthy portion of body fat that made him perfect for the line. The chest he felt that doctors hand with was small, un-muscled, unadorned by fat. Had he been in a coma? Had all of his muscles atrophied this badly? Suddenly panicking, Summer tried to sit up again. He turned his head enough to see his arms his small, slender, almost feminine arms. His breathing and heart rate accelerated. He was also, somehow, much hairier than he had been. What the hell was going on? Was this even his body?

Meanwhile, as Summer struggled with his body, the doctor was speaking in hushed, but increasingly annoyed tones, telling Summer to calm down, be still, be quiet. A moment later, he could see the doctor remove his hand from Summers chest and remove a vial and syringe from his coat. Summer didnt know what it was, but he didnt want it. He reached out to smack the vial and syringe from the doctors hands. He was not strong enough, nor were his arms long enough not as long as they used to be. He also noticed his hands had swollen to nearly double their original size. He panicked again, and tried to scream, but strange sounds escaped him. A moment later, the doctor had filled the syringe and inserted it into the I.V. He pushed the plunger on the syringe and the clear liquid flowed into the tube. Summer tried to claw the I.V. from out of his arm, but before he could, he felt the sleepiness take hold of him again. Once more, he was out. The next time he awoke, he was restrained. He could feel the leather belts holding down his arms, legs, chest, and tail. Tail? He somehow had a tail. It was at once strange, alien, and completely natural. He knew exactly how it worked and how to manipulate it, but had no opportunity to do so due to his restraints. His hair no, not hair, fur had grown much longer. He was now coated in a thick brown fur. He also had apparently grown some kind of snout. If it werent for the effects of the drugs he was still under, he probably wouldve had a heart attack. He understood nothing of what was happening to him. He attempted to thrash against his restraints, but he was too weak. He looked up. Standing in the corner of his curtained room was a man. It was certainly not the doctor he had met earlier. This tall, burlesque man wore camouflage military fatigues and a beret. In his hands rested a weapon, a submachine gun from the looks of it. He knew a lot about the military from his dad, but in this case he recognized neither the insignia, nor the uniform, nor the weapon. He tried to speak to the man, but again, the sounds were unfamiliar to him. He could manipulate his voice, but it would take a lot of practice before he could speak again. The man just stared at him, partially amused, partially fascinated, but also partially disgusted. What had Summer become? How long had he been in this cot? Why was this strange soldier standing here? As Summer was struggling, another soldier peeked his head into the room. He looked at Summer for a moment before looking to his comrade in arms. He said something in a language Summer didnt understand well actually, he had whispered it, but Summers acute hearing had caught everything, not that he understood a word of it though. The other soldier responded in what was almost certainly the negative, and his friend left. Summer resigned himself to just sitting there and feeling, flexing every muscle in his body. He was certainly at least proportionately muscled, but he was nowhere near the bulky, tall lineman he once was. Several minutes later, the curtains opened again and his original doctor entered the room. This time, he made no attempt to speak with Summer. He was fiddling with the machines controlling the drugs that were flowing through the I.V. into Summers blood. Summer could tell however, he wasnt actually making any adjustments. He could sense something was wrong. He saw the doctor reach into his coat and grab hold of something.

The soldier in the corner perked up, and said something in his language that sounded inquisitive to Summer. The doctor turned around, and in a single movement pulled a handgun from his coat, shooting and killing the soldier before he had time to lift his gun. The gunshot was loud, and Summer was momentarily deafened. The doctor flipped a switch behind Summer and the lights in the curtained room went out. Summer, though deafened, could feel the vibrations in the ground of the footfalls of what must have been the other soldier running towards the room. The doctor raised his gun. Since the room was dark, but the outside was still bright, Summer could see the silhouette of the other soldier before he even opened the curtains. The doctor didnt hesitate. He pulled the trigger again. A bullet ripped through the curtain and the silhouette disappeared. A large crash and thud confirmed the bullet had found its mark. Before Summer knew what was happening, the cot started moving. The doctor was behind him, pushing. They ignored the slumped body of the soldier in the corner, the curtains coved in blood and brain matter, out into the main floor of the hospital. The enormous reception area was completely deserted. Blood covered a counter and pooled on the ground underneath the second fallen soldier. They moved quickly towards the elevator. Once inside, the doctor pushed a key into the fire brigade control switch and pushed for the parking garage. The elevator descended quickly, reaching the underground parking level in just moments. Summer had no idea what hospital he had been in as he was rolled into the garage. An ambulance stood waiting. Inside were two more doctors, who got out and helped remove Summers restraints, place him on a stretcher, and load him into the ambulance. The doctors all climbed in and were moving in under a minute. Summer was no longer restrained, but just as he thought about trying to escape, one of the doctors slid over beside him, grabbed him and looked right at him. Speaking loudly and slowly, the man spoke to Summer. His English was accented. Please, do not try to escape. You are not strong enough. We have saved your life. You are almost safe. We are making you safe. Summer could do nothing but nod in response. The doctor took this for acceptance, smiled, and moved back to the front of the vehicle. Summer was free of his restraints but knew full well that the doctor was right. He might be able to escape, but... then what? He was still very tired and very weak. He was able to lift his arms and legs and examine them closer, however. His arms and legs were short, his tail was long. Instead of hands, Summer had paws. Each paw had fingers, but instead of nails, he had some kind of short claws. His muscles were there, but were quite small. His thick brown fur was warm. His slender tail was longer than his legs. His snout was long and adorned with long, sensitive whiskers. His nose was black, small, and wet, but also highly sensitive. He was thirsty, yes, but he also craved water for different reasons. He craved a place to swim. He craved open water. He was hungry. He wanted to eat fish. Before, Summer hadnt even liked fish. It took him nearly the rest of the trip to decide that he was, in fact, some kind of enormous river otter. He knew that couldnt possibly be true, but everything seemed to fit. The ambulance drove through the doors of some dark warehouse, and parked just inside. From the windows and ambient light, Summer could tell when the doors had been closed again. Only then did the doctors inside the ambulance move.

The two in front climbed out, walked around the back and opened the doors. Summers hearing had returned, as accurate as ever, and he could hear each footstep, even outside the ambulance. The opened the doors and brought his stretcher out into the warehouse. It was dark and empty, except for what was apparently some kind of field medical station set up in the corner. It was tented to be sterile. Once inside the plastic tarp-tent, Summer could see that the machinery and medical devices here were state-of-the-art. The rolled him into place and connected a new I.V. to his arm. For the next hour, the doctors did tests on him. They took blood; they lifted and set down his arms and legs. They did reflex tests. They shined lights in his eyes. They were recording everything, but not speaking at all. At the end of the hour, one of the doctors adjusted something on the I.V. controls, and Summer quickly blacked out again. The final time that Summer awoke, he was alone in the room. He was covered with a blanket. He looked around and noticed that there was a note pinned to his blanket. The room was dark but Summers eyesight was good. He read the note. Dear young man, First and foremost, you must know that all the things we did for you were in an effort to save your life. Your injuries sustained in the football game on that Friday night three months ago caused catastrophic internal bleeding and a full coma. Your doctor decided that the only chance you ever had of waking up and surviving your injuries was a full course of genetic-modification and replacement therapy. The unfortunate side effect was your transformation. This change in you caused quite a stir in your hometown. You were flown to an experimental medical facility in Switzerland, but your body and, in fact, your doctors were kidnapped by the Russian government. For reasons that are beyond my comprehension, the government decided that the experiment had reached an end, and that the evidence would need disposed of. That is to say, killing those guards saved your life (and, of course, the lives of said doctors). That said, we have decided to leave the country and continue our experimentation elsewhere. Your location is safe, for the time being. We do, however, recommend that you leave as soon as you are able. There are clothes lying about, but you will not pass close inspection. This change is, unfortunately, irreversible. We recommend you avoid human contact at all costs. Attached is a map, on which are identified both this warehouse and a cottage, which has been purchased for you. The route there is safe and unguarded, but is nearly 75km of mountains and forests. You will not easily be tracked. We wish you the best of luck. Please, destroy this message when you have finished reading it. Regards, Your Doctors Summer found the salutation Dear young man almost laughable. He was certainly no longer a man. Summer tested his strength. He was feeling much better now. He climbed down out of his cot, removing his I.V. and catheter. He put on the clothes that had been left for him, which fit awkwardly at best. He

tail still stuck out like a sore thumb. He decided that it would have to work. He took the map and compass and made his way towards the exit of the warehouse. At first, walking was extremely awkward, but he could the hang out it before he was outside. Once out, he could see that only a dirt road led up to the warehouse. He looked at his map. He was to head exactly the opposite direction. The fresh mountain air in this part of Russia felt good on his fur. He removed his shirt and enjoyed the sensation. He took another look at his map. To the east, down that dirt road, was a city of some kind and to the west, mountains, rivers, and eventually a cabin. He determined which direction the cabin was in, and promptly turned around and began walking towards the city, determined to face whatever fate had in store for him, rather than run from it. Copyright 2013 Grisli Aklark, JRR