Looking the mad dragon square in his glowing, sickly blue eyes, you bare your fangs in a defiant hiss, scales rising like the ruffled feathers of an animal cornered.
Orion pauses, tilting his head to the side as though he’s inspecting an amusing curiosity. Then, suddenly, a deranged laugh escapes his jaws—a guttural, rasp that echoes off the walls of the chamber.
Panting as though from sheer exhilaration, he fixes you with a look of utter contempt.
"Hmm... I should’ve known you’d resist," he sneers, his voice a venomous purr. "Your will is admirable, serpent—truly. But if that is the case, then it seems you’ve sealed his fate for him."
He leans in, deranged grin widening as a long, black, sinewy tongue slithers from between his fanged jaws—to trail up the side of the boy’s pale, sweat-drenched cheek, dripping with viscous, obsidian goo.
Then—he shifts, dropping his arm, and the teen with it—smooshing the boy’s face against his engorged maleness, thick, burbling beads of black slime amassing at its tip like molten lava.
“Mmmm~” Orion moans, drops of black pre-seed spilling from its tip to amass at his feet, his free hand lowering to indulge his lust—obsidian sack groaning and churning with every pump.
"Nnngh~ Get ready, toy," Orion snarls, his grin widening into something monstrous. The boy’s wide, tear-streaked eyes dart to yours, filled with sheer terror. "Prepare to witness the birth of my slave!"
You thrash and strain against your bindings, muscles burning with every ounce of effort—but the black latex holds firm, eldritch material defying your every attempt to shatter it.
And… against all else, you watch, as with a triumphant roar, Orion climaxes—a torrent of black ichor surging from the tip of his draconic maleness—the viscous material surging, its wet, revolting burbles echoing like a nightmare made manifest.
The boy screams as the jet of latex collides with him, but Orion’s aim is deliberate. Only his left side—his arm, shoulder, and leg—is drenched in the unholy substance—the rest of him untouched, painfully aware of every agonizing moment as the changes commence.
It writhes as it solidifies, transforming his appendages into grotesque, smaller imitations of the dragon’s own glossy black form. The teenager stares, horrified, his svelte frame trembling as he raises the corrupted limb, too terrified to even scream.
Orion watches with cruel delight, his claws flexing in anticipation, chest rising and falling as he steps away to admire his grotesque handiwork.
"Ah, look at him. Beautiful, isn’t it?" he croons, his voice dripping with malice. "Slowly, agonizingly, I’ll reshape him. I’ll make him beg for the release of servitude… Unless, of course, you’re ready to submit–"
Before he can finish his taunt, something primal within you ignites. A surge of raw energy, fueled by fury and desperation, courses through your body. With a deafening roar, you twist and pull, the black latex around you groaning and creaking as it begins to tear.
In the blink of an eye, your clawed fist slams into Orion’s jaw, the impact ringing out like a thunderclap. His head snaps to the side, and black ichor drips from the gashes your claws leave in his rubbery scales. The dragon snarls, but you’re already moving.
Your tail whips forward in a familiar motion, coiling around one of his massive limbs with incredible speed. With a powerful thrash and thunderous crack, you hurl him through the air.
The purple werewolf, roused by the attack, charges toward you with a guttural roar, large claws gleaming in the dim light—but Orion’s collision sends him tumbling as well, the two latex monstrosities crashing into a mass of machinery and the remains of empty vats with an ear-splitting cacophony of snapping cables and shattering metal.
Amid the chaos, the boy stumbles to his feet, his breaths coming in panicked gasps. His left side moves awkwardly, the newly transformed limbs not yet fully his own. Half-limping, half-running, he makes his way toward you, his wide eyes filled with desperation and fear.
"C-Come on! Let’s go!" the teen shouts, urgent as he casts a frantic glance toward one of the many exits scattered across the Blackstone chamber.
Behind you, the stunned dragon lets out a deafening roar, the sound reverberating through the Blackstone chamber like a shockwave. He and his monstrous henchman scramble to regain their footing amidst the wreckage, their eyes blazing with fury.
"Hhgrah! Run! Flee if you dare!" Orion bellows, his voice laced with venomous rage. "But know this—any and all escape from me is futile!"
As you and the half-transformed teen dart through the exit, a creeping horror glimmers in his blue eyes, the slow realization of what he’s becoming—the part of him that’s already begun to slip away…