Standing before her, tall and foreboding, was her supposed doctor...
His eyes briefly widened behind his long curtain of hair. Muscles bulged under his white coat, smoothly tracing every crevice of his body, slightly wavering in the ventilation wind...
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She stood idly in the empty room.
Greyson was leaning against a white cabinet. A black compression shirt hugged his frame with grey cargo pants hanging from his hips.
The man was fidgeting with a device that looked like a temperature gun. He was typing into the device's screen; his brows knitted down with concentration as he nibbled his bottom lip irritably.
She patted her hands on the hospital gown, her nose scrunched with distaste.
"Can we get this over with?" She groaned impatiently, "Let me sit under that stupid machine like a mummy already."
Standing up, the buzz-cut man slowly walked toward her while eyeing the device.
"Hold on..." He muttered.
Calamity folded her arms, "I've been holding on." She remarked.
Suddenly- the metal collar around her clicked.
Looking toward him- she noticed the device was pointed at the collar as it beeped. Lowering it, Greyson pulled the collar off her neck.
It felt like her skin could breathe.
Slowly placing her hands on her neck, Calamity's skin felt raw, moist, and sensitive. Although temporary, indents from the collar were imbedded into the surface of her skin. Her neck felt free of restraint- like she could finally breathe properly.
It felt so freeing.
She felt like a person- not an animal.
Unbeknownst to her, Greyson eyed her reaction with uncertainty. Emotions were swirling inside him- unsure of how to feel about a woman, regarded as dangerous, showing joy and comfort about being unrestrained for the first time in decades.
"Uhm-" She regained her composure, "Why're we... taking this off?"
Blinking, he took a moment to eye the collar in his hands before clearing his throat, "Any metal in an MRI machine will burn you alive."
She'd nod, "Fun."
Before she knew it, Calamity was subjected to an MRI machine.
Unfortunately for her, the mohawked woman had to take a long trip back to the hospital to be subjected to patient-like treatment. She was scrubbed clean, forced to shower, and stuck in a hospital gown like a confused toddler wanting to go comando.
Laying inside it- she felt the undeniable urge to twitch, readjust, and move, but the explicit instructions were to not move an inch.
Despite this, it was hard to not complain.
"Am I done yet?" She droned on annoyingly, "I don't want to know if my brain is a balloon!"
The she-wolf was irritable and bored. It felt like she was in an alien experiment.
