2033
Taylor Wolfe never imagined her life would change so dramatically. After a short, intense deployment with the British SAS, she'd dropped the uniform, switching warzones for runways as a lingerie model. It was crazy, but it worked. In the winter of 2033, Taylor's story hit a wall - quite literally. A miscalculation and overcorrection on the icy A9 sent her car careening into a ditch. The medics said she shouldn’t have survived. And technically, she didn’t.
Instead, she woke up in a military medical ward buried deep beneath a facility in Canada. The logos were scraped, the uniforms blank, but she caught enough whispers and words to get a sense of her situation: Eureka Base, NATO, and something called Project Epsilon.
Whatever she’d accidentally made her way into, they saw her as an opportunity for experimentation. She was told absolutely nothing at first, only that the damage to her body was extensive and that her survival required radical intervention. The kind that blurs the line between species.
The induction process began with a comprehensive briefing on the genetic modifications she would undergo. Taylor learned that her transformation would involve the integration of Timber Wolf genes to enhance her physical prowess and eagle genes to augment her sensory capabilities. The modifications were designed to make her a formidable operative, capable of extraordinary feats.
Taylor's first days at the facility were a whirlwind of activity. She underwent rigorous physical conditioning to prepare her body for the impending changes and most importantly to make sure she would survive the process. The medical team conducted extensive genetic mapping and baseline assessments to ensure the transformation would proceed smoothly.
The facility, hidden beneath the streets of White City, operated quickly and with military precision. Taylor was housed in a sleek, almost prison-like dormitory, surrounded by other candidates who shared her aspirations. As time went by, however, the number of others slowly dropped one by one until only she was left. She knew where they went, and it wasn't back home.
Taylor lay strapped to a cold, steel table, her body trembling with anticipation and fear. The sterile lights above illuminated the room, casting sharp shadows on the array of medical instruments laid out nearby. The genetic modifications were about to begin, and she was acutely aware that this was a one-way journey.
The first phase involved a series of injections. The gene cocktails, designed to rewrite her DNA, were administered without anesthesia to ensure her body's reactions could be closely monitored. Each injection burned as the modified genes spread through her bloodstream. Days blurred into weeks as Taylor endured a relentless regimen of injections. Eventually they switched to an oral ingestion, a thick, green liquid. The taste was bitter and metallic, leaving a lingering aftertaste that made her gag. Her body began to change, subtly at first—her skin taking on a slight blue tint and her body hair growing thicker all over. The pain was constant, a dull throb that became her new normal.
2034
The modifications escalated. Taylor's organs were systematically removed and replaced with enhanced versions grown in sterile labs. The first to go were her heart and lungs. She was awake throughout the procedures, her body strapped down as the surgeons worked with precision. The sensation of her chest being opened and organs being extracted was indescribable, a mix of sharp pain and overwhelming pressure.
Her new heart, augmented with wolf genes, was designed to pump blood more efficiently and withstand extreme stress. The lungs, infused with eagle genes, would allow her to breathe effortlessly at high altitudes and hold her breath for extended periods. As the new organs were implanted, Taylor felt an odd mix of alienness and what could only be described as power surging through her.
The transformation extended to her musculature and skeletal structure. Her bones were reinforced, becoming denser and stronger, while her muscles grew leaner and more powerful. Her body began to resemble that of a predator, built for speed and endurance. The changes were both exhilarating and terrifying, each new day bringing a heightened awareness of her evolving body.
The modifications to Taylor's sex organs were the most intricate and painful part of her transformation. The first step involved the integration of internal testicles. The procedure was delicate, requiring precise incisions and placement in her lower abdomen.
Next came the creation of her sheathed canine penis, a combination of synthetic and biological materials. The sheath was a hybrid of a traditional sheath and a cloaca, providing both protection and versatility. The surgeons worked meticulously, shaping the new organ to match her enhanced physiology. Taylor watched in a daze as the unfamiliar, blue-tinted sheath emerged from her body, a tangible symbol of her new identity.
The final step was the introduction of female genitalia. The lab-grown vagina and labia were carefully grafted onto her body, the skin and tissues blending seamlessly with her existing anatomy. The process was slow and excruciating, each stitch a reminder of the transformation she had willingly undertaken. As the new organs settled into place, Taylor felt a profound sense of completeness, her body now reflecting the duality she had always desired.
Taylor's transformation continued, her body becoming more canine and wolfish with each passing day. Her skin, now fully light blue, was covered in a fine layer of fur. Her eyes took on a steel blue hue, and her vision sharpened, allowing her to see with unprecedented clarity. Her senses of smell and hearing intensified, making the world around her feel both overwhelming and vividly alive.
Her limbs grew more muscular, her hands and feet taking on a slightly elongated, claw-like appearance. Feathers began to sprout from her thighs, elbows, and calves, their downy texture blending with her fur. Her tail, covered in a mix of blue and grey feathers, swished behind her, an extension of her new, powerful body.
The psychological toll of the transformation was immense. Taylor's mind struggled to reconcile her new identity with her old self. She spent long hours in front of a mirror, tracing the changes with her fingers, marveling at the creature she was becoming, not really believing it was still her.
2035
Taylor paced the confines of her quarters, her newly enhanced muscles tensing and relaxing with each step. It was functional but sparse, a simple cot, a metal chair, and a small table cluttered with data pads. The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching her door.
A staff member entered, their expression neutral but betraying a hint of empathy. "You’ve come a long way," they began, their voice calm and measured. "But the hardest part is yet to come. Your physical transformation is nearly complete, but now we need to condition you. Training will be intense and grueling. Your new abilities need to be refined and controlled."
Taylor nodded, her steel blue eyes locking onto the staff member’s. "What does the training involve?"
"It will push your endurance, strength, and agility," they explained. "Simulated combat scenarios, high-stress endurance tests, and mental conditioning exercises. You'll be tested on every level to ensure you can handle any situation that may arise in the event of a war. Given the political climate, that very well may be on the horizon."
The prospect of further challenges ignited a spark of determination within Taylor. "When do we start?"
Before the staff member could respond, an alarm blared through the facility, the harsh sound echoing off the walls. A robotic voice followed, cold and urgent. "Alert. War protocol initiated. All personnel to emergency stations."
Taylor’s canine heart raced as the staff member’s calm demeanor faltered for the first time. "I was going to say tomorrow but there's been a change of plans," they muttered. "Follow me."
They hurried through the winding corridors of the facility, past bustling scientists and soldiers preparing for the unknown. Taylor's enhanced senses picked up snippets of conversation, panic and urgency woven through every word. The weight of the situation began to sink in—war had started, China had been bombed, and everything was about to change.
The staff member led Taylor to a deep underground chamber dominated by an array of cryogenic pods. Technicians scurried around, preparing one of the pods for immediate use. Taylor felt a shiver run down her spine as she took in the cold, metallic environment. This was where she would be frozen, suspended in time until it was safe to awaken.
"We're placing you in cryosleep," the staff member said, their voice now clipped and efficient. "The war means we can’t risk your safety. You haven't even started training and the grim reality is that you were the only candidate to survive the procedures. The pod will keep you in stasis until a set date far in the future. If the systems fail, the computer will automatically release you. If that happens, it's up to you to survive and find out what's happened."
Taylor felt a rush of emotions—fear, uncertainty, hopelessness. She had hope that she would see action soon, but now she would be given a reprieve, albeit in an unconventional way. She stepped into the open pod, the cold air making her shiver.
The staff member gave her a final nod of encouragement. "You’ve proven your strength, Taylor. When you wake, the world will be different, but you’ll be ready for whatever comes."
Taylor lay back in the pod, the lid closing with a hiss. The hum of machinery filled her ears as the cryogenic process began. She felt her body growing numb, her consciousness slipping away. Her last thought before cold claimed her was of the future, and the hope that she would one day awaken to a world where her transformation would be accepted.
Year Unknown
Taylor’s eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred and her body heavy with the weight of cryogenic stasis. The hum of machinery was gone, replaced by an eerie silence that pressed against her ears. She struggled to move, her limbs stiff and uncooperative. The cold seeped deep into her bones, making every breath a laborious task.
The cryopod’s lid had lifted, exposing her to the stale, frigid air of the facility. She tried to sit up, but her muscles rebelled, and she fell back with a thud. Panic began to creep in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to wake up yet. What had gone wrong?
With great effort, Taylor pushed herself into a sitting position, her body shaking uncontrollably. She rubbed her arms, trying to generate some warmth, but the cold was relentless. Her breath came out in visible puffs, and she noticed her hands—larger, covered in grey fur with blue-tinted claws. Her heart skipped a beat.
“What… what happened to me?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface of a broken screen nearby. Her steel blue eyes widened in horror as she saw the creature staring back at her. Her face was undeniably wolfish, a short muzzle with a black nose, and subtle blue fur around her eyes. Her mind raced, struggling to reconcile this new reality.
“No, no, this isn’t right. This isn’t me.” She tried to stand, her legs wobbly and unsteady. Each step felt foreign, like she was learning to walk again. She stumbled to the edge of the room, where a puddle had formed from a leaking pipe. Peering into the water, the reflection confirmed her fears. The wolf hybrid staring back was real.
A flood of memories surged back, hitting her like a tidal wave. The surgeries, the genetic modifications, the pain, and the endless experiments. The desire to be whole. It all came rushing back, and with it, the realization that she was no longer fully human. The panic rose, a tight knot in her chest threatening to choke her.
“Get it together, Tay. Get it together,” she muttered, gripping the edge of a table for support.
The facility around her was dark and deserted. Dust and debris littered the floor, signs of abandonment and decay. She noticed a small crate near the cryopod, marked with a red cross. Slowly opening it, she found a care package left by the facility staff. Inside were packets of food, bottles of water, and basic medical supplies. A note rested on top, written in hurried script.
“Taylor, if you’re reading this, it means the world has changed and we can no longer help you. We left these supplies to help you survive. Stay strong.”
Her eyes scanned the room further, landing on a metal locker against the far wall. She approached it cautiously, her senses on high alert. Opening it revealed a set of SAS combat gear. The sight was both familiar and comforting, a connection to her past life. She pulled out the black military uniform, the plate carrier, the handgun, and the special purpose rifle.
“Alright, Tay. Time to gear up,” she said, more to convince herself than anything.
She dressed slowly, her movements deliberate as she adjusted to her new form. The black military gear fit snugly, the plate carrier providing a reassuring weight, as if this set of gear was meant for her. She holstered the handgun at her side and slung the rifle over her shoulder. The equipment felt like a lifeline, a tangible link to who she used to be. Looking at her reflection again, she saw the nametag on the uniform: Taylor Wolfe. It was hers.
"What the shit?" she said aloud, confused as to how her old uniform and equipment made its way to the underground facility she was in now, but relieved to have something that fit her.
Once fully geared up, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. The reality of her situation was sinking in. She had been released before the set time, which could only mean one thing: the world above had met its end, and she was now alone in this desolate new reality.
“Survive. That’s all you have to do. Survive.”
October 9, 2072
Taylor’s breath came in choking gasps as she leaned against the wall, trying to steady herself. The memories were fragmented but vivid. She recalled being led down the long, sterile corridors of the facility, her handlers speaking in hushed tones about her impending sleep. The path they took imprinted itself in her mind.
“The way out,” she muttered, forcing her shaky legs to move.
The facility was eerily silent, save for the distant hum of emergency lights. Taylor stumbled through the hallways, following the mental map she had pieced together. She reached the elevator but found it unpowered.
“Of course,” she sighed, looking around for an alternative.
Her eyes fell on the stairwell door. With a grunt, she pushed it open and began her ascent, each step a struggle as her body slowly thawed from the cryo-induced cold. Her muscles ached, but she pressed on, driven by the primal need to survive.
The stairs seemed endless, but eventually she reached the top. Before her stood a heavy metal blast door. With a deep breath, she pushed it open, the heat of the outside world hitting her like a wave. The difference to the cryopod's chill was jarring, making her stagger back.
“Here we go,” she whispered, stepping out into the sunlight.
The sight that greeted her was one of devastation. The once-bustling streets of London were now a war-torn wasteland. Buildings lay in ruins, and the remnants of cars, tanks, and APCs littered the landscape, their metal carcasses still fresh from recent battles. Taylor’s heart sank at the sight, but she forced herself to move forward.
Her rifle at the ready, she walked cautiously, her eyes scanning for any signs of movement. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant explosion or the groan of collapsing structures. The city felt like a ghost town, the air thick with the scent of smoke and decay.
Taylor’s thoughts turned to her old apartment. It was a slim hope, but she needed to see if anything from her past remained. She navigated the streets with a mix of caution and familiarity, avoiding open spaces and sticking to the side streets.
“Stay focused,” she reminded herself, her steps slow and deliberate.
As she approached her apartment building, a sense of surrealism washed over her. Amidst the ruins, her building stood untouched, as if shielded by some unseen force. Taylor’s heart raced as she climbed the familiar stairs, each step bringing back a sea of memories. She reached her floor and walked down the hallway, her breath catching in her throat. Her door stood ajar, untouched since the day she left.
Pushing it open, she stepped inside, her eyes widening in disbelief. Everything was exactly as she remembered. Her belongings were undisturbed, her bed neatly made, and her clothes hanging in the closet. It was as if time had stood still.
Her gaze fell on her laptop, still sitting on the desk. She approached it with trembling hands, opening the lid. The screen flickered to life, and she saw the date: October 9th, 2072.
“Thirty-eight years,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The weight of the realization crashed down on her, and she sank to the floor, clutching her chest as panic seized her. Everyone she knew was gone. The world she had left behind was lost forever, replaced by this nightmarish reality.
Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to breathe. The enormity of her situation overwhelmed her, and for a moment, she was lost in the depths of despair.
“I’m alone,” she choked out, the words echoing in the empty room.
Wiping her tears, Taylor forced herself to stand, her legs still shaky. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. There was no going back, but she was still here, still alive. And as long as she drew breath, she would keep fighting.
Taylor wiped her eyes once more, taking a few calming breaths as she opened her laptop again. The device was surprisingly functional given the circumstances. She opened the network settings, hoping against hope that some connection might still be active. To her surprise, one network showed up: EMERG. EVAC STN. STLGNG.
“Emergency evacuation, Stansted Airport,” she murmured to herself. “Still going.”
Her mind raced. Stansted was about 70 kilometers away, a daunting distance to cover on foot, especially in a warzone. But what choice did she have? If there was any chance of finding other survivors or getting to safety, she had to try.
Packing the laptop and charger into her backpack, she took a last look around her apartment. There was so much she wanted to take with her, but she only had a small tactical backpack. She grabbed her stuffed fox plush, tucked it into a pocket in her bag, and sobbed a bit. The familiar surroundings gave her a pang of longing and sorrow, but she forced herself to turn away and head out the door.
The streets of London were eerily quiet as Taylor began her trek. The city was a shell of its former self, the scars of war etched deeply into its bones. Buildings lay in ruins, smoke still rising from some of the more recent devastation. The sight was a constant reminder of how much had been lost.
Taylor walked cautiously, her senses on high alert. Every sound seemed amplified in the silence, and her eyes darted around, taking in every detail. She tried starting several cars along the way, hoping to find one with enough petrol to get her to Stansted. Each time, she was met with disappointment—empty tanks, dead batteries, missing wheels, or vehicles too damaged to operate.
After a few miles, her legs began to ache, but she pressed on. She had no choice. As she moved through the city, she noticed signs of recent conflict: fresh bullet holes, burnt-out vehicles, and hastily abandoned barricades. The war had not ended; it had merely moved on, leaving destruction in its wake.
Taylor’s heart pounded in her chest as she heard the distant rumble of a vehicle approaching. Instinctively, she ducked behind a destroyed truck, her breath coming in feral bursts. She peeked around the corner, watching as an IFV rumbled closer. The vehicle was heavily armored, its turret sweeping the area as it moved.
Please don’t see me, she thought, her heart racing. The IFV slowed down and came to a stop right in front of her hiding spot. The turret rotated, the barrel of the cannon pointing directly at her.
Taylor froze, her mind racing. The engine of the IFV shut off, and she heard the clank of the front hatch opening. A figure emerged, clad in military gear, looking around with a confused expression.
“Who are you?” the vehicle commander demanded. “and what the fuck are you? Am I seeing shit?”
Taylor took a deep breath and stepped out from her hiding place, hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Taylor Wolfe, British SAS. Well, formerly," she pointed to her nametag. "Also some sort of genetic experiment,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her.
The vehicle commander’s eyes widened in surprise. “Get in,” he said, gesturing toward the IFV.
Once inside, Taylor felt a small measure of relief. The vehicle commander introduced himself and the rest of his crew briefly before turning his attention back to her. “So, you’re one of those experiments, huh? What happened to you? My uncle volunteered, told me all about it. I was just eight years old. I never saw him again.”
Taylor nodded, her mind still reeling from the past few hours. “I was part of a project to create enhanced soldiers. I went into cryosleep before the worst of the war started.”
The vehicle commander gave a grim nod. “You’ve missed a lot. The war... it’s taken everything. Governments have collapsed. What’s left is just the military, holding on by a thread. Most civilians are either dead or have joined the ranks. There’s no real structure left, just survival.”
Taylor listened, absorbing the bleak reality of the world she had awakened to. “Is there any hope?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The vehicle commander sighed. “There are rumors. A new settlement in the US seems to be doing well. Here in the UK, there’s a place at Lancaster Castle, but it’s overcrowded. They’ve reverted to a simpler society—farmers, lumberjacks, and so on. They even have a king, though he’s no true royal. The Royal Family was wiped out in an assassination purge.”
Taylor felt a pang of sorrow at the mention of the Royal Family. The vehicle commander continued, “The King of Lancaster is a good person, doing his best, but the place is overpopulated. If you want more than a mundane life, you’ll want to go to Stansted. They’re evacuating high-profile individuals to somewhere. I don’t know where.”
Taylor nodded, determination hardening her resolve. “I want to go to Stansted,” she said firmly.
The vehicle commander gave her a nod of approval. “Alright then. We’ll get you there. It’s not going to be an easy journey, but we’ll do our best.”
The journey to Stansted was tense but uneventful for the first few hours. The countryside was a stark contrast to the ruins of London, but the signs of war were still present. As the IFV rumbled along the battered roads, Taylor peered out through the small viewports, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.
Halfway to their destination, the peaceful silence was shattered by the sound of gunfire. The IFV jerked to a sudden stop, and the vehicle commander barked orders to his crew.
“Insurgents!” he shouted over the roar of the engine. “Prepare for engagement!”
Taylor felt a surge of adrenaline. The vehicle commander turned to her, his face set in a grim expression. “This is normal,” he said. “Insurgents are basically lawless raiders. They try to disrupt or dissolve what little is left of the military because it’s the only part of the British government still standing.”
He paused, ducking as a bullet pinged off the hull. “The current general is doing an excellent job maintaining order. We’re able to keep going thanks to fuel made from corn, or some shit. It’s not perfect, but it’s green and keeps us moving.”
Before Taylor could respond, a large explosion rocked the IFV. The blast was close, but fortunately, it missed. The turret whirred to life, firing at the attackers. Taylor’s instincts kicked in. Without a word, she unlatched the rear hatch, much to the vehicle commander's surprise.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled.
“Helping,” Taylor replied, her voice steady. She grabbed her rifle and stepped out, scanning the area for targets.
Her enhanced senses picked up movement quickly. She spotted a group of insurgents trying to flank the vehicle. Taylor aimed with precision, her training taking over. She fired, each shot finding its mark with lethal accuracy. Insurgents fell one by one, their surprised cries echoing in the chaos.
Among the attacking forces, Taylor noticed a makeshift tank—a heavily armored pickup truck with a mounted RPG—approaching. She steadied her breathing, aimed, and fired. The driver’s head snapped back, and the truck veered off course. A second shot took out the gunner before he could fire the RPG.
The remaining insurgents, seeing their comrades fall, began to retreat. Their panicked screams filled the air as they fled from the relentless onslaught. The IFV’s turret continued to fire, ensuring their departure.
Once the dust settled, Taylor climbed back into the IFV. The vehicle commander looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. “Not fuckin' bad,” he said, nodding approvingly. “There’s no need to be so anxious. You were special forces once. Don’t forget that.”
Taylor gave a tight smile, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. The vehicle commander grabbed the radio and called ahead to Stansted. “This is patrol unit Delta, on our way to Stansted. Eliminated an insurgent group with some fleeing. We’re dropping off a priority VIP. ETA is approximately two hours. Prepare for arrival.”
He didn’t mention anything about who or what Taylor was, and she was grateful for that. She settled back into her seat, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. The battle had reminded her of who she once was—a skilled soldier capable of extraordinary things.
The journey to Stansted was uneventful after the skirmish. Taylor remained alert, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. As the IFV approached the airfield, she could see the fortified gates and the watchful eyes of the guards. The vehicle rolled to a stop, and the vehicle commander stepped out to exchange hushed words with the airfield’s guards and general. She focused and listened, her augmented hearing allowing her to catch a few words.
"That's correct. She is a wolf. A dog. Literally. And her last name is Wolfe. She's probably the last SAS operative alive. Give her some fuckin respect, got it? You might outrank me but if I hear anything happened to her I will personally see to it that those responsible suffer the consequences."
Taylor watched from inside, her heart pounding. The vehicle commander returned and opened the hatch. "Time to go," he said. "It was an honor to serve with you, even if it was only for a few hours. Good luck, Taylor."
She nodded, climbing out of the IFV. "Thank you," she replied, her voice sincere. The vehicle commander gave her a final nod before ducking back into the IFV, which rumbled away, leaving her standing at the gates of Stansted.
The guards at the airfield greeted her warmly, a stark contrast to the grim faces she had expected. "Welcome, ma'am," one of them said, guiding her through the gates. "We've been expecting you."
The airfield was bustling with activity, soldiers and staff moving with purpose. Taylor was led towards an imposing transport plane, its engines already humming with life. The on-site general approached her, his face kind but serious.
"This is your transport," he said, gesturing to the aircraft. "It’s equipped with the latest safety features, reinforced hull, advanced navigation systems, and more."
Taylor nodded absently, not really absorbing the information. Her mind was racing with questions about where she was headed and what awaited her. As they boarded the aircraft, she turned to the general. "Where are we going?" she asked, her voice tinged with anxiety.
The general gave her a reassuring smile. "We're going to Sigma City."
The interior of the Airbus was utilitarian but comfortable, designed for long hauls. Soldiers and a few civilians were scattered throughout, all wearing expressions of weariness and hope. As the engines roared to full power and the aircraft began to taxi, Taylor gazed out of the window, her thoughts a turbulent mix of fear and anticipation.
The plane lifted off, and she felt the familiar pressure of acceleration. Taylor leaned back, closing her eyes. The past twelve hours had been a whirlwind, and the reality of her situation was still sinking in. Her recent actions were guided by a need for survival, not by logic or reasoning. She was no longer the person she once was; she was a hybrid, a soldier, a survivor in a world that had moved on without her.
As the plane climbed higher, the landscape of a war-torn Britain spread out below her, revealing the true extent of the war going on. In the middle of London, as the fog began to hide it from view, she saw a massive crater. She began to cry, the harshness of the world she was in now hitting her again and again and again. She had no idea what awaited her in Sigma City, but she knew she had to keep moving forward, to find a new purpose in this altered world.
The drone of the engines became a soothing background noise, and Taylor allowed herself to relax and eventually fell asleep.
The hum of the aircraft engines provided a soothing backdrop as Taylor drifted into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were a tangled web of past memories and present fears, images of her old life interspersed with the recent chaos she had endured. The tension in her muscles slowly relaxed, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion of the past day.
She was jolted awake by a sharp nudge. Blinking groggily, she turned to see a fellow passenger—a soldier—shaking her shoulder urgently. The alarm blaring through the cabin sent her senses into overdrive. She unbuckled her seatbelt as the aircraft shook violently, the telltale signs of distress evident in the alarm's relentless screech.
Taylor's instincts kicked in. She pushed her way through the narrow aisle, steadying herself against the shaking of the aircraft. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the cockpit door. The acrid smell of blood hit her before she even opened it. Her wolfish senses picked up the metallic tang, a warning of what lay ahead.
She swung the door open to a horrifying sight. Both the pilot and copilot lay slumped over the controls, their throats brutally slit. Panic surged through her veins. A traitor on board. Before she could process the scene, her heightened senses picked up a subtle shift in the air behind her. Without thinking, she spun around, her hand snapping out to catch the wrist of her would-be assailant.
The attacker, an average-looking person in a white suit, had a knife poised to strike. Taylor's grip was unyielding as she stared into the eyes of her enemy. They were cold and determined, but Taylor had faced worse. The assailant's free hand moved to punch her, but she blocked the swing effortlessly, responding with a powerful hit to the gut. The blow sent the person sprawling across the broad cabin.
The assailant scrambled to their feet, but Taylor was already drawing her pistol. She knew the risks of firing in an aircraft, but her life was at stake. She squeezed the trigger, the gunshots echoing loudly in the confined space. The bullets found their mark, and the assailant collapsed, blood soaking through their white suit. The knife clattered to the floor, a grim testament to their failed attempt.
Her victory was short-lived. The ground proximity warning system blared, alerting her to an impending crash. Taylor shoved the dead pilot out of his seat, grabbing the yoke with steady hands. The plane was descending too rapidly, the ground rushing up to meet them. She pulled back on the controls, her muscles straining against the weight of the aircraft. Slowly, the nose began to lift, the altitude stabilizing.
Once she had gained some altitude, Taylor engaged the autopilot, ensuring the aircraft was on a steady course. She slid back into the seat, her body trembling with adrenaline. The alarms stopped, and the aircraft cruised steadily on its own. She closed her eyes for a moment, intending to rest, but exhaustion overcame her. Her grip on reality loosened, and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The cabin was eerily quiet, the only sound the hum of the engines and the faint rustle of passengers shifting uneasily in their seats. Her sleep was a temporary escape, her mind and body desperately needing the respite.
Taylor's eyes snapped open to the blaring sound of the ground proximity warning system. Disoriented, she looked out the cockpit window and saw the snowy ground rushing up to meet her. Instinctively, she grabbed the yoke and pulled back, but it was too late. The plane slammed into the ground with a deafening crash, throwing her forward. Her world went black.
She woke up with a splitting headache, the cold seeping into her bones. Snowflakes fell gently around her, the wreckage of the plane scattered in all directions. She lay in the snow, her pack and rifle tossed nearby. Miraculously, she felt no broken bones, just bruises and the throbbing pain in her head.
Her first coherent thought was to check her pack. She rummaged through it, her fingers numb from the cold, until she found the side pocket containing her cherished fox plush. The sight of it, untouched and intact, brought tears to her eyes. She hugged it close, the memories of her past providing a moment of solace amidst the chaos. After a few moments, she safely tucked the plush back into her pack.
Next, she checked her laptop. The chassis was dented, but it powered on briefly, revealing the time: 4:30 am. She quickly shut it off, conserving the battery for when she might need it most. The snowstorm howled around her, and she took a moment to survey her surroundings. The plane's fragments lay scattered, some parts still smoldering. There were no signs of other survivors.
With grim determination, Taylor got to work. She donned her pack and slung her rifle over her shoulder, moving through the wreckage to salvage what she could from the fallen soldiers. She found two extra plates for her body armor, extra pistol magazines, and rifle magazines, which she tucked into her plate carrier's pockets. The act of scavenging was methodical, a way to keep her mind focused and away from the creeping despair.
As she worked, a gnawing hunger made itself known. She hadn't eaten since leaving the facility. She dug through her pack and pulled out an MRE. Sitting next to a piece of flaming debris, she used the fire to heat some water and prepare the meal. The warmth of the food provided a fleeting comfort, and she ate it quickly, the hot meal fortifying her against the cold.
Feeling somewhat restored, Taylor decided to move. She couldn't stay by the wreckage; it was too exposed and dangerous. Who knows what scavengers might have seen the plane crash? She began trudging through the snow, her wolf fur offering some protection against the biting cold. She quickly realized she was on a mountain, and the descent would be treacherous.
The storm raged as she made her way down, each step carefully placed to avoid slipping. The hours blurred together, her progress slow but steady. The storm began to clear on the second day, revealing a small town in the distance. The sight spurred her on, a glimmer of hope in the desolate landscape.
The journey down the mountain was exhausting, each night spent huddled against the cold. She found small caves and overhangs to shelter in, always wary of the elements and any predators that might be lurking. Her training kept her vigilant, but the constant strain wore on her.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she reached the outskirts of the town. She stumbled through the snow, her body screaming for rest. She pushed open the door of the nearest building—a small, cozy-looking inn—and collapsed onto the floor. The warmth of the interior enveloped her, and she surrendered to the exhaustion, slipping into unconsciousness once more.
Taylor slowly awoke, blinking against the soft light filtering through a nearby window. She felt the comforting warmth of a bed, the sheets and blankets enveloping her. As her senses came to, she noticed the fresh scent of shampoo and conditioner clinging to her fur, which felt unusually fluffy and clean. Someone had bathed her and taken great care to make sure she was comfortable. Her black fatigues, now washed and folded, rested on the bed next to her. Her plate carrier was placed neatly beside them. Her rifle, unloaded and safe, leaned against the bed.
She took a moment to assess her surroundings, her eyes landing on a fresh glass of ice water on the small table next to her. Reaching for it, she felt a deep ache in her muscles. She sipped the water gratefully, each swallow soothing her parched throat. As she placed the glass back, her gaze fell on her cherished fox plush. She picked it up and cuddled it close, finding comfort in its familiarity.
Her attention was drawn to the sound of footsteps. A middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of breakfast food. She had a warm, welcoming smile. "Good morning, dear," she greeted, placing the tray on the bedside table. "My name's Betty."
Taylor nodded, still groggy. "Unh..." she managed, her voice rough from disuse.
Betty sat down in a chair next to the bed. "You've been asleep for a few days. You were severely dehydrated when we found you. Your plane crashed on Mt. Katahdin, and you're now in a small town in Maine. This place used to be a ski resort, but it’s been converted into a military base since the war started."
Taylor listened intently, her mind piecing together the fragments of what had happened. She glanced at her clean clothes and belongings. "You bathed me and cleaned my things?" she asked, her voice tinged with gratitude.
Betty nodded. "Yes, we did. We wanted to make sure you were comfortable. When you passed out, the folks here initially thought you might be an alien or some sort of cryptid. But when we found the items in your pack, we realized you were something else entirely."
Taylor looked down, unsure how to explain herself. Betty reached out and gently patted her hand. "I'm the one who bathed you. But you don't need to worry. You're safe here."
Taylor felt a mix of relief and embarrassment. "Thank you," she said again, feeling a lump in her throat. She took a deep breath and began to tell Betty her story—how she had been part of a government experiment, her transformation, the escape, and the plane crash. Betty listened intently, her eyes never leaving Taylor's face.
When Taylor finished, Betty smiled kindly. "You're quite remarkable, Taylor. The people here are eager to meet you, mostly because of your sudden arrival and unique appearance. But you don’t have to do that now. You should continue to rest and recover first."
Taylor nodded, grateful for the understanding. "I think I need more sleep," she admitted, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling her down.
Betty stood up and adjusted the blankets around Taylor. "Of course. Rest as long as you need. We’ll be here when you’re ready."
She sank back into the bed, clutching her fox plush. As she drifted off, she felt a sense of safety and comfort, knowing she was in good hands. For now, she could let her guard down and heal.
Taylor woke up feeling refreshed but with a strange sense of urgency gnawing at her instincts. The room was quiet, almost unnervingly so. She quickly dressed, put on her body armor, packed her things, and collected her rifle. The sun was just dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. As she moved silently through the hospice, she noticed the unsettling absence of noise and the complete lack of people. Betty was nowhere to be found.
Her wolf instincts were screaming at her that something was very wrong. She slipped out of the hospice, moving stealthily through the deserted town. The silence was oppressive. Taylor's augmented vision caught a fleeting glint of sunlight reflecting off something in the forest beyond the town. Her body reacted instinctively, diving to the side just as a gunshot rang out. Rolling to her feet, she began running, her boots pounding the dirt road.
The cold air was a sharp contrast to the snowstorm up the mountain. She ran as long as she could, then veered off the road into the forest, her senses on high alert. Her keen nose detected the faint scent of someone's sweat, recent but distant. As she moved through the forest, she noticed signs of someone else's presence: scuff marks on tree bark, crushed mushrooms, snapped twigs, and a large fallen branch that had been moved.
Taylor followed the scent, moving silently in her black military gear, blending into the growing darkness. Eventually, she spotted a figure in forest camouflage, crouching next to a boulder. She drew her rifle and crept up behind them, pressing the muzzle against their back. "Put your hands up and stay quiet," she whispered, her voice low and threatening.
The person froze, slowly raising their hands. "Who are you? What are you doing out here at night? Why is the town empty?" Taylor demanded.
The man, still with his hands raised, responded in a whisper. "The town got raided. Everyone was kidnapped except the hospital because they didn't want anyone who was sick. They took Betty too. I was out hunting elk for food and managed to avoid them."
Taylor slowly backed away, keeping her rifle trained on him. "Stay here," she ordered, then disappeared back into the forest, running off as he finished speaking.
Betty had cared for her, and even though she hadn't been there long or talked to anyone else, she felt compelled to repay that kindness by rescuing them. She used her keen wolf nose to track the scents of the raiders. The stench of unwashed bodies and blood guided her to a large lumberyard, overrun with raiders. The townspeople were nowhere to be seen, but she could smell them nearby.
She observed the raider camp from the shadows, noting the patrol patterns and the gaps in their security. Without a suppressor for her rifle, she knew she had to be careful. The sound of a gunshot would bring the entire camp down on her.
Taylor waited patiently, watching and memorizing the patrols. When the moon was high and full, she set her pack down by a rock in the forest. Taking out her fox plush, she hugged and kissed it for luck before tucking it back into its pouch. She then moved silently into the raider camp, her senses heightened and her resolve steely.
She moved like a shadow, her black gear blending into the darkness. She slipped past the guards, using the holes in their patrols to her advantage. Her keen eyes and ears picked up every detail, every sound. She was a predator in her element, hunting those who had taken the townspeople.
As she crept through the camp, she could hear the faint sounds of people talking, and the occasional laugh from the raiders. She approached a large tent, where she could smell the unmistakable scent of fear and desperation. The townspeople were inside.
Taylor took a deep breath, steeling herself for the task ahead. She was outnumbered and outgunned, but she had the element of surprise. She moved through the raider camp like a shadow, her every step silent and deliberate. Her training and instincts took over, guiding her through the dark maze of tents and scattered supplies. She spotted a lone raider on patrol, oblivious to her presence. Creeping up behind him, she wrapped an arm around his neck, applying a chokehold. The raider struggled briefly before going limp, and Taylor gently lowered him to the ground.
She continued this methodical approach, taking out raiders one by one. Her keen senses and augmented vision allowed her to spot targets and avoid detection. Each takedown was swift and silent—a knife to the throat, a quick snap of the neck.
As she neared the large tent where she could smell the townspeople, she encountered a pair of raiders chatting quietly. She picked up a rock and tossed it to create a distraction. When one of the raiders turned to investigate, she struck, taking them down silently and swiftly. The second raider barely had time to react before she was on him, her knife flashing in the moonlight.
Taylor approached the tent entrance, listening carefully. She could hear the muffled sounds of frightened people inside. She cut a small slit in the fabric, peering in to assess the situation. The townspeople were huddled together, guarded by two raiders.
Taking a deep breath, she slipped inside, moving like a wraith. She took out the first guard with a precise stab, and the second fell just as quickly. The townspeople looked up in shock, their eyes wide with fear and hope.
"Stay quiet and follow me," Taylor whispered, her voice calm and authoritative.
She led the people out of the tent and through the camp, avoiding patrols and sticking to the shadows. Her senses were on high alert, every sound and movement scrutinized. They moved slowly but steadily, Taylor taking down any raiders that crossed their path.
After what felt like hours, they finally reached the edge of the camp. Taylor signaled for the people to stay put while she scouted ahead. She picked her pack back up, reveling that she was able to complete her mission. She found a clear path back to the road leading to their town and returned to guide them.
The journey back was tense, every rustle of leaves and snap of a twig putting Taylor on edge. But they made it, the familiar buildings of the ski resort town coming into view as the first light of dawn broke the horizon.
Taylor was hailed as a hero, the townspeople cheering and thanking her for her bravery. She felt a mix of pride and exhaustion, her body aching from the night's exertions. Someone handed her a bottle of whiskey, and she took a long drink, feeling the burn as it went down.
As the celebration continued, Taylor found herself chatting with a girl named Emily. She was petite, with short blonde hair and bright blue eyes. They talked and laughed, the alcohol loosening their inhibitions. Taylor started flirting, her words and touches becoming bolder.
As the celebrations wound down and the townspeople returned to their homes, Taylor and Emily made their way through the quiet streets to Emily's cabin. The night air was cool and crisp, a gentle breeze carrying the scent of pine and earth. Taylor's arm was around Emily's shoulders, their steps slightly unsteady from the alcohol.
When they reached Emily's cabin, Taylor opened the door, ushering Emily inside with a playful grin. "After you, gorgeous."
Emily blushed, her shyness evident in the way she ducked her head and bit her lip. "Thanks, Tay."
Inside, the cabin was cozy and warm, lit by a few dim lamps. The rustic decor added to the intimate atmosphere, with a small fireplace crackling softly in the corner. Emily moved nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she glanced at Taylor.
"Do you want something to drink?" Emily asked, her voice soft.
Taylor shook her head, stepping closer. "I think I've had enough to drink for tonight. Right now, I'm more interested in you."
Emily's blush deepened, her eyes widening as Taylor reached out to gently cup her cheek. "You were amazing tonight," Emily said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't believe you saved all of us."
Taylor smiled, her fingers trailing down to Emily's neck. "Just doing what I had to do. But let's not talk about that right now. I'd rather focus on something more... enjoyable."
Emily's breath hitched as Taylor's fingers brushed the collar of her shirt. "I-I'm not very experienced with this kind of thing," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.
Taylor leaned in, her lips just inches from Emily's ear. "That's okay. I'll take care of everything. Just trust me, alright?"
Emily nodded, her eyes fluttering closed as Taylor's lips brushed against her neck. "O-okay."
Taylor's hands were gentle but insistent as she began to unbutton Emily's shirt. She could feel Emily's heart racing beneath her fingertips, a testament to the girl's nervous excitement. Taylor's lips trailed soft kisses along Emily's jawline.
Emily shivered, her hands clutching at Taylor's shoulders. "Taylor... this feels..."
Taylor smiled, her confidence bolstered by Emily's reactions. "Just relax and let me take care of you."
As Taylor's hands moved lower, she could feel the tension in Emily's body slowly melting away. She took her time, savoring each moment as she undressed Emily, revealing her pale, smooth skin. Emily's breaths came in soft moans, her eyes dark with desire.
"You're so gorgeous," Taylor whispered, her hands roaming over Emily's body. "I want to make you feel amazing."
Emily's only response was a soft moan, her head falling back as Taylor's lips found her collarbone. Taylor's hands were everywhere, caressing and exploring, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Emily's shyness seemed to dissipate with every touch, replaced by a growing need.
"Taylor," Emily whispered, her voice pleading. "I want..."
Taylor's eyes sparkled with desire as she guided Emily to the bed, laying her down gently. "I've got you, sweetheart. Just let go and enjoy this."
As Taylor undressed herself, Emily watched with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anticipation and embarrassment. When Taylor's unique anatomy was revealed, Emily's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening further.
"Wow," Emily whispered, her voice filled with awe and curiosity. "You're... different."
Taylor chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss Emily's lips. "Is that a problem?"
Emily shook her head, her hands reaching out to touch Taylor's body. "No, not at all. It's just... surprising. I like girls... and I like you, but you've got...different parts...ah, whatever. Let's do it."
Taylor's kiss deepened, her tongue teasing Emily's lips apart. "I'll show you just how good different can be," she promised, her voice husky with desire.
Their bodies pressed together, fur against skin, and Emily's initial hesitations faded away. Taylor's hands were everywhere, caressing, teasing, and exploring. Emily's responses were immediate, her soft moans and gasps filling the cabin as Taylor's touch brought her closer and closer to the edge.
"Taylor, oh god," Emily moaned, her fingers digging into Taylor's back. "This feels so... incredible."
Taylor's lips curved into a satisfied smile as she continued to pleasure Emily, her own body responding to the intensity of the moment. "I want to hear you scream my name," she whispered, her voice low and commanding.
Emily's breath hitched, her body arching against Taylor's. "Taylor... please, don't stop."
Taylor's movements became more urgent, her touch more insistent as she brought Emily to the peak of pleasure. Emily's cries filled the cabin, her body trembling with the force of her release.
As Emily lay panting, her eyes half-closed in bliss, Taylor gently kissed her forehead. "You did amazing," she murmured, her voice filled with affection.
Emily smiled up at her, a mixture of gratitude and adoration in her eyes. Taylor lay down beside her, pulling Emily into her arms. Emily snuggled closer, her body warm and relaxed, her eyes closing as sleep began to claim her.
As they lay together, their bodies entwined, Taylor felt a sense of peace and contentment she hadn't experienced in a long time. She held Emily close, their breaths synchronizing as they drifted off to sleep, the events of the night fading into the background. For the first time in what felt like forever, Taylor felt like she had found a place where she truly belonged.
May 3rd, 2075
Taylor Wolfe had become an anchor of strength and resilience in the small ski resort town. Over the past couple of years, she had led numerous assaults on raider hideouts, pushing back the threat that once loomed over the community. Her tactical brilliance and unmatched combat skills had brought a sense of safety and stability to the townspeople, who had grown to admire and respect her.
Despite her growing bond with Emily, Taylor always kept a part of herself distant, knowing that her journey would eventually take her away from this place. The reports of war activity between countries had ceased, and with the raiders nearly eradicated, Taylor began to feel the familiar restlessness creeping in.
One evening, after yet another successful raid, Taylor found herself staring out at the horizon, the orange hues of the setting sun painting the sky. Emily approached her.
"You seem distant tonight," Emily said softly, wrapping her arms around Taylor's waist.
Taylor sighed, leaning into Emily's embrace. "I've been thinking, Em. With the raiders gone, there's not much left for me here. I need to move on, find a way to Sigma City. Maine is still so far away, and I can't ignore my desire for more than just this."
Emily tightened her hold, resting her head on Taylor's shoulder. "I knew this day would come. But it doesn't make it any easier."
Turning to face Emily, Taylor cupped her cheek, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. "You've been my anchor, my reason to stay sane in this chaotic world. But I can't stay, Em. I have to find my way back."
Tears welled up in Emily's eyes as she nodded. "I know. But it doesn't mean I won't miss you terribly."
They spent the next few days preparing for Taylor's departure. The people, grateful for everything Taylor had done, threw a farewell gathering. There were tears and heartfelt goodbyes, but the most difficult part was yet to come.
On the night before her departure, Taylor and Emily retreated to Emily's cabin. The air was heavy with unspoken emotions as they sat together, the silence punctuated only by the crackling of the fireplace.
"Are you sure you have to leave?" Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Taylor took Emily's hand, squeezing it gently. "Yes. But tonight, let's not think about tomorrow. Let's just be here, together."
Emily's eyes were filled with a mix of longing and sorrow as she leaned in to kiss Taylor. Their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, both of them pouring all their love and pain into that moment. As their kisses deepened, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, tangled in each other's arms.
They moved to the bed, shedding their clothes, baring not just their bodies but their souls. Taylor's hands roamed over Emily's skin, committing every curve and contour to memory. Emily's touch was soft, reverent, as if trying to imprint the sensation of Taylor's presence into her very being.
"I love you, Tay," Emily whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I always will."
Taylor's heart ached at the sincerity in Emily's words. "I love you too, Em. More than words can say."
Their lovemaking was slow, deliberate, each touch and kiss filled with a bittersweet mix of passion and sorrow. They held each other close, seeking solace in their connection. Tears mingled with kisses as they brought each other to the heights of pleasure, their cries of ecstasy echoing through the cabin.
Afterward, they lay entwined, their breathing slowing as they held each other tightly. The reality of Taylor's impending departure hung heavy in the air, but for now, they found comfort in each other's arms.
As dawn approached, Taylor gently extricated herself from Emily's embrace, her movements careful not to wake her. She dressed quietly, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. She gathered her belongings, her fox plush safely tucked into her pack, her rifle slung over her shoulder, and her pistol at her side.
Before leaving, she knelt beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair from Emily's face. "Goodbye, Emily," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Thank you for everything."
Emily stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "Taylor..."
Taylor pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "I have to go now. Please take care of yourself."
Tears streamed down Emily's cheeks as she nodded, her voice choked with emotion. "Be safe, Taylor. Come back to me if you can."
With one last lingering kiss, Taylor stood, her resolve steeled. She walked to the door, pausing to take one final look at Emily, the woman who had captured her heart. Then, with a deep breath and a tear, she stepped out into the cold morning air, the path ahead uncertain but necessary.
As Taylor made her way through the forest, the town fading into the distance, she felt a sense of purpose guiding her steps. She didn't know what awaited her on this journey, but she was ready for whatever came her way. With Emily's love in her heart and the memories of their time together to keep her strong, Taylor Wolfe set out, determined to find her way back to Sigma City and the life she had left behind.
No comments:
Post a Comment