It was hot. It was way, way too hot. 
His eyes blearily fluttering open, Nat's chest heaved with effort, sweat droplets breaking out on his skin. God, why was it so hot? Was this one of the side effects of the hormone treatment? Hot flashes? He was supposed to be testing a treatment for depression, not how to turn a human into a water heater. If he got any hotter we worried his brains would boil. Had there been something about life-threatening consequences in the contract he had signed? He couldn't remember now, his mind seemed so sluggish in the heat. All he knew was that it was [i]too damn hot and he wanted it to stop![/i]

Throwing his blankets off of him, he slumped onto the cool, hard floor, relishing the icy sensation of the clean tiles. That felt better, so much better. Like an ice pack, chilling his feverish skin. Could he be having an allergic reaction? He forced his eyes open again, looking down at his bare arms. Well, he wasn't puffy or red, like how he became when he ate peanuts. No welts had broken out on his body, nor any signs of rashes or hives. He felt his throat, not feeling any swelling. But he did feel pinpricks as soon as his fingers touched his neck, startling him. He looked down at his hands, seeing that his fingernails had transformed into... claws? Curved and sharp to the touch, like angry dark talons. His eyes widened in his horror, and he jumped up. And up. And  hit his head hard against the ceiling. Before falling back to the floor with a sudden crash. 

It stung. No longer were the tiles cool and inviting, now they bit against his skin, sending jolts of pain throughout his body as he hit the ground. He let out a slow groan, rolling onto his back and looking at the dent in the ceiling he had made. Well, while the floors, walls, and doors were made of reinforced steel, obviously the roof over his head wasn't. Recovering from the fall, still sore, he sat up, looking about the sparsely furnished room. There was his bed, messily made and with the blanket in a disorganized lump (he only now noticed the strange, shredded leather restraints), a small table and chair, for when food was brought in, a small TV that showed family friendly programming (he particularly disliked the show about dinosaurs on trains), and finally the small corner that served as the bathroom. Toilet, sink, showerhead, and mirror. Just like the mental hospital he had been in before, he wasn't allowed to even go to the bathroom in private. Probably incase he started having an allergy-induced fever, as he was so clearly having now.

He shakily got to his feet, noticing they too had claws. He felt unbalanced, like his back was slightly heavier than before, and he had to lean forwards on his toes as he walked to counterbalance it. Carefully staggering on the pads of his feet, he made his way to the mirror, looking into it. And he stared. And he stared. Then he turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face, and he stared again. And then he screamed.

Ears. Two ears. Tall and white, they sprouted out of his head like twin triangles, now flattened to his scalp in his panic. His brown hair was white as snow, and his normally olive green eyes were now a pale and icy blue. When he opened his mouth to scream, he caught sigh of two white, sharp implements in his mouth. Fangs. He scrambled away from the mirror as if it were the source of his woes, tripping and falling, landing on something soft. And fluffy. He looked down, as if he was expecting a strange kind of poodle-snake (poodle-noodle, now there was a thought) to have made its way into the room. Instead, he was met with a tail. A long, fluffy fox tail. His tail.

Nat screamed again, his throat becoming hoarse. Now it was a strange, hybridized yowl, something only partly human that sprung from his tortured mouth. The cacophony prompted two orderlies to come dashing down the hall, hurriedly entering his room. Nathanaël stared up at them in almost accusatory terror, his lips trembling.
[color=6ecff6]"What- What did you do to me?! What did you do?! Wh-Why is there- Where are my ears?! Claws, tail, hot! It's hot! I-I'm burning! I'll die!"[/color] he shouted, another hot flash coming back on. One of the orderlies ran to get him an ice pack, one that Nat hugged and cuddled close to his body, as if it were life itself.

While this was going on, the other orderly was giving him a check up, checking his heart, his breathing, his temperature, pulse. He pulled out all sorts of strange handheld instruments Nat couldn't even begin to name. Once this was done, he assured Nat that he was not having an allergic reaction. That the hot flashes were a way of adjusting and that they should soon pass.
[color=6ecff6]"But the ears! Why are my ears gone? Why is there a tail? I-I thought I was signing up for a hormone treatment, something to cure depression or something! N-Not ears! Th-There has to be a mistake! Please, change me back! I-I've been good, I haven't hurt myself or broken any rules, please! Ch-Change me back!"[/color] he begged. He pleaded with the doctor to change him back, to tell him it was a mistake, one that was easily fixed. But the older man, the man whose nametag read Dr. Quincy, he shook his head gravely. And he explained that there was no cure. That Nat had been duped. 

The boy was stunned. At first, he thought the doctor was pulling his leg. A secret genetic experiment? Come on, those things only happened in comic books! Or bad tv shows! There was no way something like this was real, was there? But the look on Quincy's face told him this wasn't a joke. So his next thought was that it was a dream, a bad dream, and that any moment he would wake up to another mundane day of pill swallowing and testing. Or maybe, this was a drug-induced dream? Maybe he was hallucinating everything right now, and simply misunderstanding the doctor? But... People didn't feel pain in dreams, did they? And that shock from hitting the ceiling had been real and painful enough to drive any amount of sleep out of him. Finally, Nat came to accept the reality. He had been tricked into a genetic experiment. He was a half-human, half-animal freak now. There was not way to turn back. At least, not yet.

Quincy looked at him with sympathy, sighing and arranging his notes.
"... I'm very sorry. It was... unexpected, to my level of clearance at least, that the effects would be this... Severe. If it's any consolation to you, the other subjects have... Also begun to experience similar physical and physiological changes. While you are free to leave, get some fresh air, I would like to continue testing on you. To, well, see how your body may adapt to your new environment."
Nat looked up at him, translating the words from English into French in his head, before carefully putting forth a response.
[color=6ecff6]"Is... Is there a chance that if there's more testing, that... That I can be cured?"[/color]
Quincy hesitated, pursing his lips and remaining silent. It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't a no either. Nat stood up, nodding with a renewed fire in his eyes.
[color=6ecff6]"Alright, I'll do it. Just tell me what you want me to do."[/color] If there was any chance he could turn back, he would take it. The thought of the other test subjects was pushed as far from his mind as humanly- well, half-humanly possible. He didn't care about them. He hadn't met them, they didn't exist. He could care less about any attempt at freedom right now. He just wanted to be fixed. And he'd do anything he could to chase that chance.