Pretty Cure Transformations Novels & Stories

She also caught the plague. Actually, we physicians don't know the exact cure for the pandemic. We just stick to the alternatives to at least give the dying patients some hope. We often perform bloodletting in which we cut the boil, so the blood and pus will ooze out from the body. I approached the wealthy man at his deathbed, I didn't even try to touch him and inspected him with my cane instead. He was breathing ghastly. The boils on his arms were as big as an apple. I noticed his nasty excretion laid in a bucket beside him. I was relieved knowing I had my mask on. I sighed in dismay as I told her wife to leave us as I perform my surgery.

I gasped, scrambling to my knees. His body shuddered, and the glow intensified, enveloping him in a cocoon of golden light. The transformation was slow, agonizingly slow, as his fur began to recede, his massive wolf form shrinking, reshaping. And then, there he was, Brian, the man, lying naked and vulnerable on the clinic bed. “Cover him!” Debby’s voice snapped me out of my stunned silence. She moved quickly, draping a blanket over his body to preserve his dignity.

Sage woke strapped to a metal table. Silver restraints. They burned her wrists and ankles. Made shifting impossible. The lab coat woman stood over her. “I’m Dr. Sarah Wright. I developed the lycanthropy cure.” “There is no cure. We’re born this way.” “You were. But I can change that.” Dr. Wright held up a syringe filled with blue liquid. “This serum rewrites your DNA. Removes the genetic markers that allow transformation. One injection and you’re permanently human.”