"Wake it-"

"It's getting more weary-"

"-might exterminate it-"

"-coincidental, just wake it up-"

"-just observe for new powers."

Again... why was he awake again? Had the creatures not seen fit to end his life yet? With a cautious twitch, Bakshaar tested his front paws. No pain was forthcoming, though he was still blinded.

He scrabbled to his feet, nose twitching as he sniffed the air, his ears twitching. The air smelled dank and musty, overlaid with the odor of filthy water and interwoven with a multitude of other scents he couldn't identify, none of which were particularly pleasant.

Bakshaar growled cautiously, glad to have the use of his jaws back. His paws flexed experimentally, feeling the texture of the floor beneath him with their sensitive pads. It was rough, cold and porous, like stone. Was it stone? He lowered his head to sniff it gingerly, and recoiled instinctively. It smelled of death.

A great screeching, grating noise filled the air, and he whirled around towards its source, a low growl emitting from his throat. As he turned, he sensed that something was wrong with his body. It moved differently to what was normal. It seemed – heavier, yet more powerful.

The smell of alien filled his nostrils, accompanied by ungainly, scraping footsteps, and he balked, his eyes flickering uselessly from side to side beneath their impeding cover. He backed up instinctively as he sensed the creature approach, but his tail brushed a stone wall, and he was forced to leap to one side to avoid the things, who continued to follow him.

Yes, his body was different. He felt his muscles shifting and rippling beneath his pelt, but they were unfamiliar – almost as if they did not belong to him. The ground was further from his nose than normal, and he felt in that one leap that his body weight had increased. He stumbled and fell to the ground. Hearing the alien approach again, he lashed out with his sharp claws.

A mechanical clang rang out in the darkness, and an angry hum followed.

There was a crackling sound accompanied by a sharp, acidic burning smell, and just a split second later, Bakshaar felt a sharp shock course through his entire body. It wasn't exceedingly painful, but it numbed all his limbs and made him drop his head back to the floor. It reminded him vividly of the night he had tried to hunt the little human colony near his den. That excursion had nearly ended in his death.

Strong claws seized his head, and he could do little more than wriggle ineffectually as they ripped something from his head. Light flooded into his eyes, but before he could adjust, he was picked up bodily – still unable to move – and tossed unceremoniously through an aperture in the wall that he could barely make out. With another grinding noise, something was slammed shut behind him. Uneasy on his new legs, he struggled to his paws. He was able to see now, and he studied his new surroundings with a weary glare.

He was in another pen, he understood that, but there was no yellow in sight. Instead, the place was filled with... sand. Sand and scrawny shrubbery. Artificial light and heat from above warmed him. All was quiet, nearly peaceful considering what had been done to him before. Still he waited, tensed for a pounce should more of those horrible creatures come to hurt and burn him again. After a few minutes of pained silence, he decided danger was not evident. Instead, Bakshaar searched for a reflective surface to see what had become of himself. What he saw made him sick.

His body was deformed. His upper half looked been completely different, thicker and broader than his natural lithe form. His strong front legs were now shorter than his back ones, shoulders once behind his head now on equal terms with it. The combination was what made standing on his four paws uncomfortable.

An idea crossed his mind, and he experimentally pushed upwards with his new arms, standing upwards. His back legs began to ache from the strain of holding his new weight alone. He swayed a little, tail swishing to keep his balance. It was also slightly longer than before now, almost enough to wrap twice around his new bulky frame. Eventually, the swaying stopped as he was able to stabilize himself.

Strange and unnatural as it was, Bakshaar attempted to walk in this new way. But the moment he lifted one paw from the ground, he fell forward. He blocked the fall with his paws, turning his muzzle away, but still his head hit a small rock protruding from the brown, and he faded once more.