Cautiously, you approach the door, your claws tapping softly against the cold metal floor. The faint hum of machinery fills the silence as you peer inside, your sharp eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the room. Amid overturned furniture, shattered glass, and papers strewn about like the remnants of a long-abandoned project, a flash of motion catches your attention.
A man stumbles into view from behind a toppled desk. His lab coat hangs in tatters, stained with streaks of what might be blood, oil, or both. Blonde hair, matted with sweat, clings to his forehead, and his pale face is etched with fear. His every movement is jittery and uncoordinated, as if his body is on the brink of collapse.
The instant he spots you, his breath catches audibly. His wide, bloodshot eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, he freezes. The flicker of a broken overhead light casts eerie shadows across the room, accentuating the glossy, unnatural sheen of your latex scales and the piercing, reptilian slits of your gaze. His face crumples in sheer terror.
“No—no, no, no!” he stammers, tripping over his own feet as he scrambles backward. His shoulder slams into the wall, and he slides down, raising a trembling hand in a futile gesture of defense. “M-Monster! Stay back!”
His chest rises and falls rapidly as he presses himself as far into the wall as he can, his wide eyes flickering between your coiled tail, your claws, and your shimmering form. His panic spills out in fragmented words. “I’ve seen what your kind does! S-So don’t—don’t! I-I don’t want to become like the others!”
You remain motionless, watching him with a silent intensity. His fear is palpable, the room thick with it, but you make no move to advance.
And… slowly, something changes. The man seems to take notice of your stillness, your lack of aggression. His breaths slow, yet remains shaky–all while his raised hand lowers just slightly, fingers still trembling. His eyes narrow in wary curiosity as they scan your face and your body.
“You’re… you’re not like the others, are you?” he asks after a moment, tone cautious but probing. “You’re not just another… mindless beast.” He hesitates, as though trying to reconcile the image of you with whatever horrors he’s encountered. “You… haven’t given in to the instinct to spread and… convert everything in your path.”
You tilt your head slightly, considering his words, then give a slow, deliberate nod. Aside from the immediate horniness wrought by the transformation, all the giddy laughter so-so faint and far away—you sure haven’t felt any sexual urges, even as your junk has been hanging out for all the world to see. Eh…
The tension in the man’s frame ebbs, just barely. His hand drops to his side, though he still leans heavily against the wall, as if ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.
“Listen…” His voice drops to a desperate whisper, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I-I’ve been… hiding for what feels like days—weeks, maybe. I don’t even know anymore. The things I’ve seen…” He trails off, shaking his head before focusing on you again. “To the point; there was a creature—a green lizard… beast. It used to be one of us, one of the senior researchers. It attacked me, but it wasn’t… mindless. It was calculated, deliberate. Intelligent.”
He gulps, his fear momentarily giving way to raw vulnerability. “And, it’s been turning more of us—scientists, researchers, anyone it can find. Spreading it’s ‘gift…’ a-and I can’t do this alone.”
The man’s voice cracks on the last word, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of survival is finally crushing him. His pale blue eyes are locked on yours, flickering between desperation and fragile hope. He takes a halting step forward, the shuffle of his tattered shoes loud in the oppressive silence.
“You’re… not like them,” he says, his voice trembling but laced with tentative certainty. “How, I don’t know. But none of them—none of the others—have retained the same lucidity, the same… control as you have.”
He swallows hard, before running a shaky hand through his blonde hair—the motion seeming more out of habit than necessity, an attempt to ground himself.
“R-Right,” he continues, his voice uneven as he struggles to organize his thoughts. “My name is…” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “Damian Solace—a senior research manager for the Solarus Research Institute.”
The name hangs in the air between you, unanswered. You say nothing, fixing your eyes on him, unreadable. Your tail shifts slightly, coiling and uncoiling with a faint whip of movement, the only indication that you are even listening.
Damian exhales sharply, his breath hitching, and takes another cautious step closer. “As is, all the beasts—they’re on the prowl, a hunt,” he says, his words spilling out in a frantic rush. “They’re… organized, but distracted for now. Soon—very soon—it’s likely they’ll regroup, and when they do…” His voice trails off, the weight of what he’s describing rendering him momentarily speechless.
He lowers his gaze to the ground, hands trembling as they curl into fists. When he looks back up, his face is etched with desperation.
“This is our chance,” he says, his tone firming slightly, as though he’s convincing himself as much as you. “The perfect chance to turn the tide. We are but mere spaces away from the core itself—the cause of all this madness.”
You narrow your eyes, and tilt your snout up ever so slightly.
Damian seems to interpret your lack of verbal response as a signal to continue. He takes a step closer, his hand lifting in a pleading gesture. “The Blackstone,” he says, his voice cracking again. “It’s down here, in the deepest part of the facility. It’s… it’s what started everything. The mutations, Substance X—the latex, the… monsters born from it... I-If we can reach it, maybe… maybe we can stop this. Shut it down.”
He hesitates, his eyes darting briefly to your coiled tail before returning to your face. “I can’t do it alone,” he admits, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t stand a chance out there. But you… you’ve made it this far. You look strong, capable. You can help.”
You continue to watch him, your expression unchanged. The faint flicker of a broken light overhead casts shifting patterns across the walls, catching the glossy sheen of your scales. Damian shifts nervously under your gaze, his breath catching in his throat.
“Please,” he says at last, the word escaping him like a prayer. “If you won’t do it for me… do it for yourself. To end this nightmare before it spreads any further.”
Weighing his words, his intentions, and the tremor in his voice, your chest rises and falls in measured silence, the air thick with tension as the decision lingers unspoken between you.