Marjorie paid no attention to the warning sign as she snuck out the back of the Supermegatopian Labs employee break room. Not because she didn't care about the warning- on the contrary. DON'T OPEN THIS DOOR- IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO YOU BEHIND THIS DOOR, YOU ASKED FOR IT. Well, Marjorie was asking for it- in fact, she had sought employment at SMT Labs for just that reason.

Nineteen years old, Marjorie looked more like a tall twelve or underfed fourteen. High school had been bad enough, back when there was still some hope of a late growth spurt... but now, facts were facts; she was short as Ferret Man's mercy, skinny as a kiwifurter, and actually flatter than the Boune Desert.

With women such as Slut Puppy, the Avatar, Topless Lass, and never mind the various Buxom Gals around, Marjorie couldn't bear to go through life a 28-AAA. She wanted a change- preferably one which left her powerful, stacked and oversexed, but she'd take whatever she could get.

Hell, even Piranha Girl was sexier than Marjorie Garr.

Marjorie had signed on as a flunky- er, lab assistant- at SMT Labs for the very chance, for the opportunity to sneak off and explore the hazardous detritus of scientific progress. The danger, the very strong probability of death or mutation, or worse yet of bumping into Mad Dr. Nesbitt, held no terror for her anymore.

She was going to raid the SMT Labs junk drawer.

Pale and trembling hands tentatively grasped at the handle of the drawer. Marjorie slapped them away, sending them skittering into the darkness in search of their arms, and yanked the drawer open. Flasks clanked, pill bottles rattled, unidentifiable devices rustled in the drawer's depths. Menace glittered from each bit of glass, plastic and steel. Marjorie didn't care- she ignored all the rattling, rustling, clanking and gleaming menace and plunged in up to the elbows.

About half the junk in the drawer bore no label; Marjorie dumped it on the floor with hardly a glance, where the mutant rodents which lurked in the Labs building walls caught it and scurried off to hide it somewhere safer. About half of the items with labels had only illegible scrawls written on them; more flasks, bottles and zap guns fell to the floor, leaving the rodents scrambling to keep up with the rain of dangerous junk.

Marjorie spent a few moments on reading the labels of each item of the remaining junk, even if she didn't quite understand the legible words. Apparently the scientists all had poor spelling and brain damage. "Duplicate Kine Formula"? Did someone need more sheep? "Howitzhir Ray Gun?" Misspelled howitzer, and the little pistol wasn't even close to the size of a field artillery piece. "Dorman Milk Extract"- spelled with only one O. Why would anyone want to be changed into a doorman?

Just as the bottom of the drawer became visible between the remaining bits of junk, Marjorie hit paydirt. "Rapid Growth and Sexual Development Enhancer," the computer-printed label read. Perfect. She couldn't ask for anything- wait a minute. Under the computer printing, almost unreadably faint, written in pencil in a sloppy shaking hand... "Beware of Dog?" Misspelled -and- nonsensical. The writer had spelled 'beware' with three E's and no A. Not, on the whole, a good sign.

Marjorie juggled the pill bottle in her hand, thinking fast. On the one hand, if it worked properly it wouldn't be in the junk drawer, would it? No, wait- Dr. Coolhands had invented a fusion reactor that ran on water and had no waste product aside from prune juice, and he had thrown it out because most people hated prune juice. But the scientist who'd made this- not named on the label, dammit- was apparently crackers even beyond SMT Labs standards. "Beware of dog" indeed! She was desperate... but was she really that desperate?

Yes, she was. More importantly, she had two minutes left to get back to Dr. Shroud's lab- she didn't have time to look for something better. She slammed the junk drawer shut, pocketed the pills, and snuck back into the better-lit areas of the SMT Labs building before running like mad- er, crazy- running like someone who's late to assist Dr. Shroud with his experiments on communications with the dead.

Meanwhile, in the shadows of the storage room, one rodent stepped forward as the others retreated with their booty. Opening up a tiny laptop computer, he typed a quick memo to the various scientists that the junk drawer had been emptied and was once more available for discarding materials. The scientists never asked where it went, and the rodents only had to wait- a week, two weeks, a month at the outside- before some desperate case emptied it for them.

And with the discards, soon, very soon, the rodents would complete their plans to overthrow their hateful ruler, the Mad Dr. Nesbitt. With her out of the way, nothing could stand between them and world conquest!

Well, nothing except Hell Kitty, maybe. She was scary.

Marjorie slammed her apartment door behind her, gasping for breath and forcing her heartbeat to drop back down below two hundred beats per minute. She couldn't believe she'd managed to get through the rest of the workday and home without being discovered. She'd even avoided the crossfire between the Metallurgist and Dark Buxom Gal several blocks away. Ha, she thought, but soon I'll put both of them to shame!

She pulled the pill bottle out of her pocket, the pills rattling like a vindshield viper's tail as her hand shook. Only seconds away from realizing her dreams... She scanned the bottle for instructions, read in tiny print, "One per day until supply exhausted," and considered this for a moment. By her rough count, there were nearly a hundred pills in that bottle.

The hell with THAT. Marjorie wanted her change NOW.

It took five handfuls and a large glass of water to get all the pills down, but in short order the bottle was empty and Marjorie full. She waited a few moments, wondering what a sudden, overwhelming change would feel like. Would she explode out of her clothes? Slowly inflate? Would parts of her grow before other parts? And what if-

A horrible thought seized her. What if the pills' effects were only temporary? What if they wore off? Great Kiwi, she'd just exhausted the only supply she'd ever get! She didn't even keep one to have analyzed and duplicated! How foolish she'd been, how reckless- h

OW.

The fire flooded her body in a sudden surge, exploding from her gut, churning through her veins to her heart, charging down her arteries to every part of her body. Her heartbeat slowed a little, but trebled in force, the deep rapid pounding drowning out all other noise in her ears. Sweat beaded and rolled down her body, caught by her clothes, which clung to her slender, underdeveloped body.

The tightness first became apparent around her chest. Fighting against muscles that wanted to lock in stiffened paralysis, Marjorie looked down to see two tiny bumps rising like bullets under her blouse. Longer and thicker her nipples grew, mounds slowly pressing up beneath them, almost immediately drawing her shirt tight around her torso. Her sweat gathered around and between her already apple-sized tits, making the white blouse transparent in seconds, allowing her to see the growth, inch by inch, of boobs where no boobs had been before.

Her panties, hidden under her skirts, slipped up her ass and tightened around a crotch which seemed to throb even more insistently than her heart. She couldn't tell if it was sweat or some more intimate fluid which had made them sticky and soaked, but either way something was giving her a wedgie- and judging by how tight her skirt was getting, and how its fabric hugged a rear which had never been evident before, she was pretty sure what it was.

Her feet curled up as her shoes shrank- no, as she grew, as the feet outgrew the leather straps and toes which had been a perfect fit moments before. A simple flex outward snapped leather and buckles apart, freeing first the left, then the right foot. Unsteadily she stepped away from the ruins of her shoes, her legs grown longer, shapelier, and above all more muscular as the burning blood ran down to her toes and back up for another cycle.

Marjorie's jacket was next to go, as broadening shoulders and thickening muscles fought against its restraints and won. The back seam split apart, the rip racing up and down until two halves of the garment slid off her body, revealing blouse cuffs already pulled up almost to the elbows. Arms filling out with sinew stretched at the sleeves- as Marjorie struggled, through the burning pleasure of the change, to bring one arm up for a closer look, the flexing arm burst the sleeve open to reveal a mighty bicep.

Now badly overloaded, her blouse began to give up the fight. Buttons exploded from the front as mammaries continued to evolve from tiny to tremendous, revealing cleavage beyond Marjorie's wildest personal fantasies. A rip began between her shoulderblades as her growing shoulders stretched the back of the shirt beyond its capacities. Out of sight below her burgeoning bosom, the shirt came untucked from her skirts as their waistband snapped, revealing a hard, trim abdomen which spandex could only enhance.

Yes... YES!! Marjorie grabbed the remains of her shirt and ripped it off her body, releasing her braless rack from its only confines. This was what she'd wanted! This was EVERYTHING she'd wanted! The fire BURNED in her... leaving her more powerful, more sexy, more HORNY than she could ever have conceived of before! No longer paralyzed by the change, she ripped away what remained of her clothes and ran to a mirror to examine her new body.

She'd grown a foot and a half, at least- not as tall as that Amazon bunny who chased Weasel Boy around, but taller than most women in the city. Her bosom was definitely in Buxom Gal territory- not as big as the BGs -could- grow them, but at least as big as they usually were. Topless Lass might be larger- proportionally speaking- in the bust, but in the butt Marjorie edged her out, she was pretty sure. And strength... a quick test with her sofa showed that, although she wasn't in anything like She-Male territory in actual power, the rounded, graceful lines of her limbs were more than show.

All in all, Marjorie couldn't have asked for more. She would have settled for a lot less! And best of all, there didn't seem to be any unwanted side effects! No scales, no extra limbs, no sudden desire to exterminate humanity... she'd actually got away scot-free with using an SMT Labs reject on herself!

Marjorie resolved to attend church on Sunday and give thanks... but only after she'd committed a lot of sins to confess. With this body, she thought, I can get anyone I want! Well, almost anyone, if Mighty Yak can't take a hint from Tiger Lass he wouldn't pick it up from anybody.

But first she'd have to get some clothes. Nothing she had would fit now, and she'd have to go through town, bare naked, to shop. The cops would probably have something to say about-

Oh, wait. She'd just tell them she'd just had an origin. They'd buy that.

Smiling, singing, the newly transformed Amazon Marjorie Garr picked up her purse and stepped out, not realizing that, in her gut and blood, the fire continued to burn... and within her cells, things continued to change...

Marjorie strode into work the next day in her new business suit, proud of all the staring eyes following the sway of her hips, the jiggle of her bosom, and the subtle movement of her potent muscles. Her final worries that someone on the SMT Labs staff would call her out faded as she noticed the scientists- unlike the passers-by out on the street- barely acknowledged her existence. Another assistant transformed? Who cares? So long as they don't sue, devour the receptionist, or demand royalties like that annoying Dr. Ghoti.

The morning revealed its little ups and downs. On the down side, Marjorie's keyboard seemed too small- her larger, longer fingers kept hitting the wrong keys. She had to adjust her chair twice, eventually using books to raise her desk instead, losing an hour of work time. On the other hand, she didn't need to stand on chairs to get equipment out of the cabinets, and she was able to drive one of Dr. Shroud's experiments back into the beaker when it attempted an escape.

By lunch Marjorie had decided that the pros definitely beat out the cons. Sure, she felt large and a little clumsy on occasion, and everything seemed a little smaller, but this was minor. She felt sexier than she'd ever felt before- and not just from pride in her new appearance. She felt energy buzzing through her body, demanding release in some fashion. Every action seemed effortless- she took the stairs down to the cafeteria for lunch four at a time without being winded, or even breaking a sweat. She craved activity, badly; maybe she'd join a gym after work.

Marjorie didn't notice the first honest stares as she ate lunch- stares not of lust or suspicion but of astonishment. Even in SMT Labs, even when Piranha Girl is on the rampage, you don't usually see someone sitting down and tearing into sirloin steak, pork chops, a hamburger, meatloaf, meat fries, meat pudding... and especially not the Surprise Special. (Nobody knew what the Surprise Special was, but most people knew not to try anything in SMT Labs you couldn't identify on sight. Marjorie had grabbed a double helping because, for some reason, it smelled delicious... in a bloody protein sort of way.)

With the first bite Marjorie's table manners broke down, and within a minute she was forking, knifing, and eventually just stuffing the food into her mouth as fast as she could chew and swallow. It tasted so good! She didn't know what the hell it all was, but it was delicious! And look- it makes its own gravy! You just can't ask for better than that! She finished by licking the plates clean, a move which finally prompted a stunned onlooker to tap her on the shoulder and call her to herself again.

"Er... I really must ask for the recipe," she muttered, blushing with embarrassment. From now on, lunch out, or taken at her desk...

That afternoon, it all came crashing down.

Literally, it came crashing down from the seventeenth floor onto a number of hapless victims stupid enough to walk past SMT Labs on the sidewalk adjacent to the building. Metaphorically it would fall four minutes after the debris fell and the mutant axolotl man slid down the building on his own slime to wreak havoc in the city below.

The reason it only took four minutes was that- as everyone knows- Supermegatopia is infested with superheroes. Even if Weasel Boy was busy thwarting the Avatar's latest lunacy (mostly by drooling at her cleavage), Mongoose Guy was hiding from Mad Dr. Nesbit, Buxom Gal was trying to ditch a helicopter sent from Bustler Magazine, the Yeti was filming a guest appearance on "Third Kiwi from the Sun"... well, you get the idea. There was still a superhero free for quick response to the newly created rampaging monster.

That particular hero was Buck Naked, a superhero name both catchy and accurate to every detail. Well over six feet of beefcake on the hoof, so to speak, wearing nothing more than a look of smug self-confidence, he stood defiant before the axolotl creature. In fact, it took only ten seconds before the axolotl man fell to his hands and knees, weeping loudly and uncontrollably. Not from any blow or show of power per se- the monster cracked from the realization that, although he was twice as tall as the disrobed superhero, he was only a fraction of the... man... Buck Naked was.

Most of the SMT Lab workers who'd crowded the windows to watch the fight groaned with disappointment at the anticlimax. Not Marjorie. For some reason the details- even seven floors up- looked much closer than she'd expected. She could see Buck Naked's face, the open pity warring with the distaste at all the amphibian slime. She could see the rippling of his muscles under his thin chest fur. She could even see... what all women saw in him... and she liked its looks. A LOT.

As the police arrived to gather up the axolotl and haul him off before his A became capitalized, Marjorie continued to stare from above at the stoic superhero. She wanted to rush down to the ground and haul him off somewhere for some active bed wrestling- best nine falls out of seventeen. Just looking at all that... MEAT... made her sweaty and hot, made her clothes stick to her with sweat, made her panties wet and sticky. The thought of what she could do with all that meat made her feel dizzy...

... or was she dizzy because of the sudden fire burning through her body again, the sound of her heart pounding like an angry downstairs neighbor?

Marjorie pushed away from the window, staggering as a new transformation took her. Her nice, new expensive suit already tightened around her growing body, especially across the bust, where not even her jacket could hide nipple-bumps which looked less like bumps and more like Mount Kiwimanjaro. She tried to turn, succeeding only in flexing her arm through both shirt and jacket sleeve, revealing an arm bulging with shifting muscles. She could see the flesh shifting, swelling as she moved, growing thicker... more powerful... hairier? HAIRIER?

As Marjorie stared at her arm, she noticed the dark fur growing up across it, thick and rich. She noticed, for the first time, her teeth growing sharper, longer. She struggled to unclench a fist, noticing the claws where fingernails should have been. As she felt the seat of her suit pants split apart under the stress of her broadening hips, she felt her tail slide through the crack, growing longer, stiffer...

Oh shit.

"Be ware," she gasped, her voice husky with the strain of the change. The legs of her pants split as her legs grew too long and thick for the pricey (but weak) fabric. The front of her pull-over blouse began to split, revealing a thick bush of fur atop a cleavage which threatened to eat Cincinnati... and was still growing. Ears slid upwards through her hair, taking on a decided point.

The warning scrawl hadn't been misspelled at all. Be were of dog.

"Be were," she gasped again, unable to think of anything else but the warning. Nobody heard her- at the first sign of a metamorphosis, experienced SMT Labs employees run like cheap pantyhose. The words came half-shouted, half-moaned, half-growled through a mouth growing too long and toothy to say things clearly. A deep breath sent the rip in her shirtfront racing down the fabric, snapping apart the jacket buttons and slinging its remains off her broad, bulky shoulders.

Socks and shoes split asunder, revealing massive hairy padded feet. Panties snapped and fell away, lingering only where they stuck to her soaked crotch, displaying an ass full and round, topped by a stiff, trembling shaggy tail. Arms flexed through and out of the remains of her shirt, huge fists pounding holes in the ceiling.

"BE WERE!!" With a roar of lust the beast within Marjorie took full control, slinging its arms and shoulders back and monstrous breasts forward, bursting them free of the last remnants of her clothing. Her head brushed the high ceiling of the office area, long muzzle gleaming with sharp teeth. Arms bulged and pulsed with strength far beyond the potential of most Supermegatopians, a power matched only by the mighty legs and by certain other parts of her body which now pulsed and dripped with a driving NEED.

And the person she wanted to satisfy that need stood seven floors down on the sidewalk...

Buck Naked tried not to yawn as the Supermegatopia Police Department's counselor talked gently to the disconsolate axolotl creature. Across the street, a crowd of women had gathered to point and stare at him. A deputy commissioner would be along shortly with the usual paperwork for him to fill out. All dry, dull and boring, the same old same old. Any moment now the women would start throwing money, undergarments, keys, and ex-husbands at him, and he didn't know if he could take that for the third time today. Some days, he thought, it's dreary being a superhero.

With a crash of glass something new burst out of the Supermegatopian Labs window several stories overhead. "BE WERE!" it shouted as it was silhouetted in the early afternoon sun. Buck looked at it, as it seemed to hover in the sunlight, arms and legs spread in a classic tackle pose, enormous boobs, trim waist and full hips clearly delineated against the clear daytime sky.

The monster was blatantly female, large, voluptuous, and about to land right on top of him.

Then again, he thought, moments like this make it all worthwhile.

Leaving aside the salacious details, only one other thing needs to be told.

About seven rounds later, as Buck guzzled Gatorade to replenish lost fluids, he asked, "So, is that your name? Bea Were?"

"I dunno," the werewolf growled. "Works for me. Call me whatever you want, but you got two minutes to get it up again... or else..."

Buck gulped, looked at the figure filling almost the entire bed, and finished off the pitcher. "The things I do for truth and justice..."

"Be Were of Dog"
a story written by Kris Overstreet
by request from Brian Burke
www.supermegatopia.com

PROFILE: BEA WERE

Real name: Marjorie Garr
Occupation: Lab assistant, rampaging monster
Base of Operations: Supermegatopian Labs
Marital Status: Single

The reputation of SMT Labs as a place where people are mutated at random into monsters, villains, heroes, or advertising executives has grown so much that people actually go there in the hopes that some mutation will hit them. Marjorie, one such person, stole a discarded growth formula in hopes of ending her days as a tiny, scrawny undergrown woman in a city full of bosomy, scantily clad heroines. Unfortunately, although the formula did have the desired effect- leaving her tall, buff, and voluptuous- when her hormones kick into overdrive (or when the moon is half-full) she undergoes a second-stage transformation into a mighty werewolf- stacked like a brick wall and ready to fall on any studly looking victim! Despite her uncontrollable transformations and frequent rampages, SMT Labs keeps her on the strength- after all, she's easy on the eyes, can reach the top shelf of the Dire Chemicals cabinet, and comes in handy when the Tentacled Beasts from Beyond Space and Time try to crawl out of the broom closet...