A month later, Helen Cho pored over the latest bloodwork for her patient. This couldn't be right... These hormone readings were off the charts.

So engrossed in her work was she, that she didn't notice the lithe, feline creature slinking from its enclosure into the adjoining laboratory until it was rubbing itself against her legs.

"Bad girl. You know it when you creep up on me," Helen chided, reaching under the desk to scratch T'Challa between the ears. The king of Wakanda began to purr deeply as the doctor's fingers worked into the thick fur. She mewled quietly, rubbing her cheek against Helen's hand.

"I'll give you your treats later," Cho soothed her. "Where are these hormones coming from?" she said out loud.

The answer came in the form T'Challas muzzle slipping under her skirt, nuzzling against her panties. Helen nearly jumped out of the seat, blushing as the king's nose pressed against her womanhood, her purr growing louder.

"B-bad girl," Cho gasped. "Very ba- oooh." T'Challas tongue slipped inside her. Cho's head lolled back in pleasure. "Oh. You're in heat, aren't you?" she groaned in realisation. "We'll need to find you a more appropriate mate."

But right now she was eager to fulfil that function. She slipped her legs over the king's shoulders, gripped the feline's head behind the ears, and urged its muzzle deeper between her legs.