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~Stalking Sergal~

Written By: Phamyne Plaguox

[WARNING! Contains: Male (Feral Sergal) on Male (Human) Non-Consensual Frotting, Cum Play, Hypnosis, Oral Vore (Soft), Gore, Digestion (Fatal), and is not suitable for minors.]

Stepping into the control room with my coffee in hand, my eyes scan across the twelve-by-twelve metred space. A wry smile hesitantly curls my lips when I locate my friend. He’s leaning back in his office chair with his feet propped up on his station and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

The control room is made entirely out of UHPC, a type of reinforced military grade cement. It’s dark grey and harder than certain metals. The large space before me has three rows of control panels lining the lower floor, an additional control station on an elevated platform that overlooks the room, and a polymer-layered glass window, better known as tesla armoured glass, filling the entire wall on the far end of the room.

While most people would say they hate their job, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way about mine. Working for Jikken Industries has been a dream come true from the very moment they accepted my application. I received by doctorate for genetic engineering eight years ago, and the first thing I did was apply to the biggest company in the world; And despite being confident in my application, I was still astonished that they hired me right out of the gate.

Jikken Industries is responsible for many of the modern marvels in both science and technology. They’ve made life better for humanity in so many foundational ways that life without them seems unthinkable. And while I’ve seen some of the seedier sides of the business, and have read through many articles claiming that Jikken Industries conducts inhuman experiments, from what I’ve experienced during my employment, I can assure without hesitance that any seemingly immoral conduct produced by Jikken is far outweighed by the good the company does for the entire world.

Working here has been a dream since I was a child, and the first requirement for applying to Jikken was to get my PhD, as all personal hired by them have doctorates, even in this underground lab. Everyone from the janitors to the lab security have either a rudimentary understanding of physics or a degree to prove they are worth the corporation’s time.

Upon my employment, I was brought into a thirty-year experiment known as “The Sergal Project”, and while I may have had no hand in the recombination of the genetics of this otherworldly creature they’ve named “Sergal”, or in the microarray analysis leading to this miracle of transesterification of previously thought incompatible RNA strands, I did play my part in the cloning process.

My main responsibility as part of The Sergal Project was initially to aid in the gestation stages, after which, my job became maintaining the health of subject S3R-G6L, which for the most part means that, alongside the four other specialists on my team, that I am stuck behind a computer panel most of the day. However, I have recently been aiding in assessing our best approach at controlling our resident that is currently fast asleep behind the barrier.

Walking down the steps and setting my coffee on the table before sliding into my station beside my friend, the dishevelled man finally notices me.

Darren: “Wah-hey! Josh! Took you forever, dude~” The idiot I call friend reaches over and amicably ruffles my hair, almost pushing my glasses from my face in the process of his tomfoolery.

Josh: “Darren! Please, I’ve asked you countless times not to do that!” The smug bastard only grins arrogantly while poking the bridge of my glasses with his index finger and pushing them back onto my face properly.

Darren: “I’ll stop when you start styling your hair differently, Joshy-woshy~” I frown while fixing my hair and straightening out my lab coat, doing my best to stop his words from making me feel so self-conscious about my appearance.

Josh: “There’s nothing wrong with my hair, unlike yours, it perfectly meets the restrictions set by Jikken.” Something I’m surprised hasn’t gotten him in trouble. Not only has Darren probably never used a brush in his life, but his auburn hair is much longer than the parameters set by our contracts.

Darren only rolls his eyes for me before returning his socked feet to the control panel. Looking beneath the table, I find his similarly unapproved sneakers messily strewn beneath his chair, along with a growing pile of empty chip packets, soda cans, and papers I hope aren’t important.

Darren: “Did you get the memo about preparing sergeant sergal’s habitat for the investors that’ll show up today?” Urg… I really wish he would stop calling subject S3R-G6L “Sergeant sergal” it’s so demeaning… While the creature in question hasn’t exactly been giving a name, we’ve each come up with quirky nicknames. I myself like to call him “Fenrir”, as while his appearance mostly resembles that of a wolf, it’s his chaotic nature that really fits such a name.

Josh: “I did. You do realise that everything has been prepared for this presentation months in advance, right?” Despite my affirmation, I can’t help but feel anxious that I’ve forgotten something and immediately check that the habitat is indeed running as smoothly as it was when I had left yesterday.

Darren: “Juuust checking~” Urg… He knows that I’m going to obsess over every little detail now. It’s the whole reason he even mentioned it! Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with Darren when all he does is tease me, cause my anxiety to skyrocket, and riddle my station with crumbs from his various snacks. Sometimes his less than attractive traits have me second guessing the benefits our companionship brings.

Humming happily to himself as I check the vitals of the sergal and the stats of his artificial environment, I find everything to be in order, despite this, I decide to run a few diagnostics just in case. The computer panels that are built into every control terminal here are top of the line touchscreen operated monitors produced by Jikken. They have a few slots for keycards and USB ports, but are otherwise completely digital and no doubt unbelievably expensive.

Once the diagnostics have finished running, and prove once and for all that nothing has suddenly changed overnight, I see through my peripherals that Darren can’t seem to keep his elation to himself. He chuckles cheekily, seemingly very pleased with his antics, but promptly stops when I turn to glare at him, failing miserably as he tries to act innocent.

Sighing as I shake my head and trying my best to stop the smile from curling my lips, I peer over my station and look through the thick armoured glass and into the sergal’s habitat. The sergal is peacefully napping in his favourite spot between two oak trees with his tail curled around himself like a housecat.

The terrarium is thirty-by-thirty metres wide, double that in height, and a combination of different flora. The artificial environment resembles the forests above us rather seamlessly. Entire trees, boulders, and various plants were implemented to make his habitat as natural as possible. And while Darren insists that it was a waste of time and money, as according to him: “Sergeant sergal only needs the space to run around, a place to nap, a spot to crap, and a bowl for water and food”, the natural elements have incontestably aided with his mental well-being and development.

The sergal in question is currently curled up beneath two oak trees, appearing deceivingly peaceful compared to his normally unpredictable nature, reminding me far too much of the docile puppy I once had as a child.

Subject S3R-G6L is a marvel of bioengineering. His genetic makeup consists of over thirty different animal species, a few different plant proteins, compositions from various fungi, and even RNA extracted from protists! Components that should rightfully never have been able to coalesce, but with thirty years of planning, countless hours of testing, and an unfathomable amount of funds, this trillion-euro experiment has come to full fruition in the last eight years and formed this marvel of nature.

While Fenrir has a complex DNA structure that even I have trouble comprehending, he functions far better than even the explanatory theories would have suggested. I’m uncertain what the bioengineers did while piecing together his convoluted construct over the years, but for the five years he’s been alive, I’ve watched the sergal mature in ways even his biology can’t explain.

Subject S3R-G6L has a mix of features that make him not just an intimidating creature, but something of a handsome beast. His head is mostly shaped like that of a shark. It’s long and triangular in form, but broad and strong. He has feline shaped eyes with slitted pupils, which are a frightening neon yellow, emotive fox-like ears, and a two-tone coat of thick fur covering his body.

From the top of Fenrir’s forehead and to the tip of his prehensile tail, his pelt is a strong sapphire blue, while the bottom half that runs from his chin and all along his legs, is ash white. These colours were chosen mostly to coincide with his shark-like features, but from what I’ve seen with the other strains they plan on cloning, Jikken intends on giving future sergals a wide range of colours.

Fenrir’s body mostly resembles the form of a wolf, his bone structure and general appearance have strong lupine qualities. Parts of his anatomy contains salamander sequences, which give him an elongated neck and mid-section, similar to that of a lizard, but for the most part, subject S3R-G6L is quadrupedal with digitigrade hind legs and mostly resembles an oversized wolf.

The sergal’s hands are a rather interesting part of his design, something I’ve always found unique. The geneticist used kangaroo genes to construct them, which in turn gives Fenrir a fair amount of dexterity, something akin to the hand coordination that a raccoon has, while still allowing him to retain his ability to run at incredible speeds, climb impossible heights, and manoeuvre his way through his environment with impressive agility. These kangaroo paws are clawed with thick nails and padded with leather-like flesh, and in my personal opinion, give Fenrir quite a lot of character.

The sergal’s tail is also one of his unique traits. Incorporating both the structural design of a kangaroo’s tail and that of a salamander’s, subject S3R-G6L’s tail is prehensile and contains a large fluffy tuffet of fur covering a quarter of the end. It kinda reminds me of the tails you find depicted in eastern dragons.

Other than the wolven hackles that almost resemble a lion’s a mane, feline and primate genes used to construct his compound muscle structure, the dolphin and octopus RNA sequences to engineer his elaborate brain, Fenrir is much larger than any of the animal genos used to fabricate his complex DNA. If his appearance didn’t already make him seem otherworld, then his enormity does.

The sergal’s body length is approximately three metres long, and if I were to include his nimble tail, Fenrir reaches a whole twenty feet from snout to tail tip, and stands nine feet tall from his forepaws to the top of his head. Alongside the raised breastbone that gives him an almost regal appearance and a shark like muzzle that makes him intimidating enough to bully dinosaurs, subject S3R-G6L’s size alone is more than sufficient to frighten any man alive, never mind the absurd amount of almost supernatural abilities he holds.

Fenrir weighs a healthy six-hundred kilograms, has fleshy pink skin hidden beneath his thick coat, fur that acts as partial armour, and while he may only be five years old, subject S3R-G6L is intelligent beyond his years. Other than human genes having been used to construct the complexity of a brain meant to process such vast amounts of information, parts of his intelligence come from dolphin sequences, which in turn gives him more than just a natural understanding of how to use parts of his brain we never will be capable of.

As if hearing my thoughts, something Fenrir could rightfully do as he has electroreception, an ability that makes him capable of not just sensing the electrical waves in the machines lining the room, but can by all rights detect our brain activity, subject S3R-G6L opens his vivid yellow eyes and latches onto me as if he knew exactly where I was all this time. A smug, almost arrogant, grin spreading across his muzzle as our eyes meet.

It’s been long speculated by the group studying his behaviour and mental capacity that while the sergal shares similar sentience to us, his thought patterns aren’t akin to ours in any way, but with the cocksure way he always stares at me, and the vast range of expressions he emotes, I find this conclusion to be deceptive. Fenrir is far more intelligent than anyone gives him credit for.

I mean, he has an amalgamation of genes that should rightfully not work together, so we have no way of properly comprehending how adding insect hox genes to join RNA messenger transcripts have altered his thought patterns. Nor for that matter how using lungfish genomes to bind introns together changed his cognition. There are even proteins used from Thale Cress, which is a flower, to synchronise certain components. As much as we like to “Assure” we understand what splicing these vastly difference genes will produce, I don’t believe we truly understand how these incompatible ribonucleoproteins can alter his thought patterns; Never mind what lifelong captivity is doing to Fenrir’s personality.

Another worrisome aspect is that subject S3R-G6L seems to have a grudge against me, or at the very least, has impure thoughts towards me. For while he gives many of the personnel here the stink eye, he specifically looks at me as if I were some mare to mount, or perhaps, a rival he seeks to dominate. And despite having basically raised him from gestation to adulthood, and having developed a sense of responsibility for him in the same way an uncle would feel towards his nephew, I’m not so certain these feelings are mutual. Honestly, the way Fenrir looks at me is deeply disturbing…

Josh: “!!!” I am snapped from the arrogant smile of the sergal at the hiss of the blast doors behind me, and as I turn to look over my shoulder and up towards the upper level, I see general Huxley enter with a group of people I suspect to be the investors. I quickly jab Darren in the ribs and push his feet off the dashboard before frantically straightening out my station.

Huxley: “And this, gentlemen, is where our future lies.” Hearing his militarian voice smoothed into something meant to imitate amicability is a dissonance to my ears. I’m sure even this amalgamation of different people, who have never even met him before today, can hear how fake his friendly act is.

Huxley: “In the past, wars maybe have been won with numbers, through measuring cocks, and comparing who had the biggest and baddest bombs, but I assure you, when the next war hits, we won’t be using nukes or machines, we will be using sergals!” He says this ostentatiously in the most pretentious way possible while gesturing to the habitat. And looking back towards the terrarium, I find that Fenrir is bearing an expression of uncomfortable disbelief just as profound as the one Darren isn’t even bothering to hide.

While my reasons for joining The Sergal Project were to be a part of such a monumental advancement in science and bioengineering, even if everyone here might never be recognised for their contributions, the entire reason Jikken first established this experiment and injected so much money into it was to create a weapon. A living, breathing weapon. And now that subject S3R-G6L has reached adulthood, we are entering our next stage of development: Attaining people willing to pay for a monster that will fight their battles.

Huxley: “This apex predator has no equal on this good earth, I assure you of that. He is cloned from over thirty different animal species and contains all of their strengths, and none of their weaknesses.” Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I see there to be around ten different men looking across the control room, all of which seem to have come from every corner of the world.

Huxley: “Subject S3R-G6L is a hundred-and-thirty-two pounds of pure muscle, can reach speeds of a hundred-and-fifty kilometres-per-hour, is able to jump thirty-five feet into the air, can temporarily run along walls, leap six metres horizontally, and has a bite force of three-thousand PSI!” Huxley chuffs as if to emphasise that even he is surprised by the prattle he’s trying to sell.

Huxley: “But it doesn’t stop there, gentlemen. Sergals have a response time of zero-point-one-hundred-and-eighty-six seconds, can hold their breaths for ten whole minutes, and have so many innate abilities that they’ll make superheroes look like pansies!” Urg… I knew this was going to be hard to listen to, but I never realised just how bad it would be coming from the general’s mouth.

Japanese investor: “What kind of abilities?” An Asian man in a neatly kept black suit is the first to interrupt Huxley’s rant, and despite the slight pause the general makes, he seems more than happy to answer this question.

Huxley: “I’m glad you asked! How does electroreception sound? This beautiful beast is capable of sensing electromagnetic fields in not just all the machines in this room, but even in you and me! And if that’s not enough to blow your socks off, he also has magnetroreception, which is basically a built-in compass! Tell me, what superhero can sense where the north pole is?” He chuckles haughtily and I cringe at his dumbed down explanation of these abilities.

Huxley: “Subject S3R-G6L has chemoreception, the night vision of an owl, can regenerate limbs and organs like a lizard, is able to hypnotise it’s targets through light waves, is basically biologically immortal, and if that weren’t already enough to make sure he never falls in the field, he sleeps with only half of his brain shut down! There’s no way to sneak up on this fella, even when he’s dreaming of slaughtering your enemies!” Urg! The unihemispheric slow-wave sleep cycle isn’t the same as sleeping with half his brain shut down! Gods! Why did Jikken hire this moron to lead all social interactions? It’s bad enough he struts around the base giving unsolicited suggestions.

Muslim Investor: “Tell me more about this biologically immortality. What does that entail?” While I’m glad these investors aren’t allowing Huxley’s words to fly over their heads, dread wells in my chest as the general turns around and shouts my name so loudly that I get flashbacks of my abusive father.

Huxley: “ Müllen! Explain your mumbo jumbo to these fine gentlemen!” All their eyes turn to me as soon as I stand from my seat on wobblily legs. I gulp while trying to steady my racing heart, and if it weren’t for Darren giving me a subtle thumbs up, I might yet have fainted.

Josh: “W-well, this ability was taken from turritopsis dohrnii, the uhm, it’s better known as “The immortal jellyfish”. Y-you see, while the scyphozoa would normally revert back to its polyp state to restart its development stage, subject S3R-G6L falls into more of a hibernation like cycle where–” I’m interrupted by a dismissive wave of the general’s hand as he turns to face the investors, prompting me to awkwardly retake my seat.

Huxley: “Yes, yes, yes, I think they get it Müllen–” That contemptuous tone directed at me disappears and is replaced by a broad, and what I think is meant to be a welcoming smile.

Huxley: “And that isn’t even the tip of the iceberg of what subject S3R-G6L is capable of. This amazing creature is a combination of millions of years of evolution brought together into one singular specimen. He is the perfect weapon.” Failing to hide my embarrassment behind my glasses, I jolt when Darren pats my leg, and turning my head ever so slightly, I find him offering a sympathetic smile and a nod. I’m only able to silently mouth my appreciation before Huxley’s obnoxious voice washes over us again.

Huxley: “Now, while we’ve injected trillions of euros to both develop and culture such an incredible creature, the top guns over at Jikken Industries have yet to determine how best to profit from this marvellous specimen, and that’s where you come in.” Looking towards Fenrir, I bite the inside of my cheeks, trying my best to ignore that pang of guilt I feel for what we’re about to do.

Huxley: “Cole, set stage sixteen. Sanders, arm the electrocutors and LRAD.” Before any of the investors can inquire why we’d use such weaponry, the general continues with a complacent tone.

Huxley: “You see, while we have a few different methods of neutralising subject S3R-G6L, which is mainly through the chip inserted in the back of his neck, the head honchos over at Jikken Industries would like to see your interest in our latest creation before we delve into more advanced methods.” The investors don’t seem too pleased with this, but Huxley continues all the same.

Huxley: “Once a revenue has been opened for the cloning of sergals, we plan on entering the next stage of development: A chance for fine people such as yourselves to control these mighty beasts.” As the general prattles on, Darren gets to work on setting up the training simulator. Walls rise from beneath the grass, platforms are extended from the walls, and in the middle of it all, Fenrir looks around disinterestedly before casting his unimpressed gaze upon us.

Huxley: “Now, you could take my word for all these incredible feats the sergal can perform, or I could give you a demonstration~” Turning to look at Joe, who is sat beside Darren, our colleague slides a few windows around on his monitor and a few more obstacles appear. From these newly erected walls, a multitude of different automated guns, electrical charged prongs, fire spewing pipes, and spinning blades protruding from the ground emerge in Fenrir’s habitat.

Subject S3R-G6L appears completely annoyed now, and I don’t blame him. This is one of our most difficult training modules. There is a one-in-seven chance that he gets injured whenever we run it. When I sounded my concerns yesterday, General Huxley argued that we need to use the most taxing exercise to impress the investors, and, as he says: “Even if the dumb shit loses a few limbs, he can grow them back!”. While Fenrir might contain crocodile genetics, which were sequences to offering him a higher pain tolerance than normal, it’s still no easier hearing his screams or watching his limbs severed…

Checking the sergal’s health monitors, his heartrate is slightly elevated, and adrenaline is already being injected into his system in obvious suspense, but for the most part, Fenrir appears fully cognisant, his senses heightened, and above all, his brainwaves suggest that he is determined to not get injured this time.

A nod from Huxley is all it takes for Joe and Darren to initiate the training sequence, and as soon as they start it, carnage reigns down upon the other side of the armoured glass. Fenrir darts to the side, nimbly avoiding the onslaught of gunfire, runs twenty feet up a wall, and takes out two of the mounted guns! One he destroys using his jaws while another with his prehensile tail, and right as a flamethrower above him starts to spew liquid hot fire, subject S3R-G6L leaps horizontally from the wall and right into a pit of twirling blades!

Fenrir is quick, reacting faster than any animal is capable. As his forepaws land upon the grass, he twists into the inertia of his descent and narrowly avoids the spinning weapons while firmly planting his hindpaws into the ground, and with his body half-coiled around himself like a snake, Fenrir springs from the floor with stupefying agility and incredible speed! I can barely follow his movements as he lands upon a platform above these blades before leaping to the adjoining wall and taking out three more guns with rapid spinning motions!

Claps resound around the control room, and looking up, I find that all the investors are very impressed with the display, and judging from the smug look on Huxley’s face, he too is very pleased things are going so well. The scowl I’m shooting him falls from my face when a sibilant howl of pain echoes from behind the glass, and whipping my gaze back to the sergal, I find bullet holes lining his rump. I quickly check his vitals and find that his body has already ejected the bullets and is working on repairing the damage.

Gritting my teeth, I quickly load the override program to shut down the simulator and ready the healing grenades in case Fenrir sustains another hit, yet before I can return my nervous gaze to the terrarium, I hear the crash of more metal and catch the very moment subject S3R-G6L takes out two more guns.

Leaping from wall to wall using the genetic ability borrowed from pumas, I can tell that Fenrir has improved greatly from his first day of training. Not only are his movements more concise, but his reaction time, speed, agility, and even his ability to anticipate where danger will come from next has become refined. I watch in stilted amazement as the sergals lures the shots of two fifty calibre machine guns and uses them to take out a couple of the spinning weapons on the ground before throwing four of these severed blades as if they were shuriken and destroys the fifty calibre guns!

Louder clapping echoes across the room, this time even some of the scientists cheer at how well-trained Fenrir has become. It’s in this moment where I see a strange change in the sergal’s expression. Subject S3R-G6L stops dead in his tracks, completely uncaring for the bullets raining upon him, and looks towards us with and expression caught somewhere between disbelief and contempt, and after a brief pause where he jumps out of reach of the gunfire, Fenrir casts his accusative yellow gaze upon me in a way that only a scorned child would be able to look at his parents for assistance.

Subject S3R-G6L’s expression instantly makes me feel conflicted, torn between doing my job and protecting the creature who never asked for any of this. My guilt soon solves this conundrum for me, but as my hand extends to shut down the training exercise, my motions are halted by Darren who grabs my wrist and shakes his head, doing his best to wordlessly remind me of what happened the last time I showed too much compassion for subject S3R-G6L.

Turning to look back at Fenrir in apology, remorse wells in my chest when the sergals doesn’t even seem surprised that I won’t help him, his reaction actually reminds me of one a moody teenager might pull when he’s told he can’t go to a party, but what he does next, shocks me beyond any of my expectations.

Throwing himself from the platform as if he were trying to imitate a “Leap of faith”, Fenrir nimbly lands on his hind legs in the middle of five spinning blades, and other than tucking his arms and tail over his torso, he leaves his entire body prone to the eviscerating contraptions! Their blades extend, they whirr to life, and instantly start cutting into his flesh without remorse!

Josh: “!!!” I shoot up from my seat, utterly confounded and staring in disbelief, and from the gasps echoing around me, it would seem that I’m not the only one. The entire room goes deadly silent as the sergal acts in a way he never has before. Fenrir always does his best to avoid injury, so this complete disregard for his own wellbeing is just as shocking as it is out of character. I don’t hesitate, I move to terminate the simulator, but as I do, I catch the eye of Huxley. He’s glaring at me, telling me not to do it, but I don’t care for how loudly he’ll yell at me later, I cancel the program and the blades, guns, walls, and platforms immediately disengage and return back into the ground.

Nervously looking back towards the habitat, I find that Fenrir is laying in the grass in a pool of his own blood, another sight that has my hands moving out of instinct. I shoot two healing grenades into the terrarium and the pink smoke immediately envelops his body. Looking back to my monitors, I find his vitals to be stabilising, the added healing instantly doubling his already otherworldly angiogenesis. I sigh in relief and sit back at my station as I prepare the meds to be mechanically injected and then start running an analysis on his brain activity to try ascertain what could have caused him act so recklessly, but as I initiate the diagnostics scan, my screen lights up and informs me that the chip is not attached to any organism…

Huxley: “A-as you can see, the sergal is an amazing creature. He’s wildly unpredictable, but alone, he could take out an entire army.” I hear disgruntled grumbling of what I can only understand to be coming from the confused, or perhaps disappointed, faces of the investors, but I’m too overly focused on trying to run the diagnostics to care that this presentation has failed.

Russian Investor: “What was that? Why did he throw himself into danger?” Huxley grimaces, and I wish that I wasn’t so preoccupied so that I could enjoy seeing him squirm for once in his life, but my fingers frantically dance across the screen as I look for answers.

Huxley: “A-as I said before, we are still in the early stages of training. Once we implant a brain control device, we can understand not just all of the sergal’s complex thoughts, but input our own commands and assure that accidents like this won’t happen.” Huxley clears his throat and tries to regain his previous composure before continuing.

Huxley: “Besides, as you can see, subject S3R-G6L is up and moving again. Those blades can tear tanks to ribbons, gentlemen, tanks! Consider what a feat it is, that in a matter of seconds, the sergal is up and ready to fight after only a short breather!” Indeed, it would appear that Fenrir is back on his feet, and while I am glad for him being alright, and fully expect to watch him saunter up to the side of the wall so that I can inject him with restorative chemicals to balance and stabilise his system like we do after any accident, he remains firmly in place. Fenrir’s gaze is burning into us in a look that I’ve never seen him wear.

Darren: “Hey, Josh, what was that? What went wrong? I’ve never seen– w-why are you…” Darren trails off and follows my gaze to the terrarium, freezing alongside me as he notices the vengeful fury gleaming in subject S3R-G6L’s eyes. Fenrir’s lips are pulled back, hackles fluffed up, tail thrashing, and body tense. Looking once again at his vitals, I still can’t seem to get a full read on him, only the habitats scanners appear to be working…

Huxley: “Now, gentlemen, how about we reconvene in the conference room and discuss this further over some cognac?” Before Huxley can herd them out of the room, one of the investors stops and points towards the terrarium.

American Investor: “Hey, what’s he doing?” Everyone stops and turns to look, myself included, and as I do, I freeze dead in my tracks. Subject S3R-G6L is weaving his body side to side like a cobra preparing to strike, his gaze is set firmly to my left and eyes undulating in a spectrum of colours that expands outwards from his pupils in waves of hypnotic colours.

German Investor: “What? It does party tricks too? I’m not paying for a dancing lizard.” Despite the sarcastic comment that would normally get a rise out of Huxley, he is just as transfixed as I was a moment ago, but with this new understanding of what he’s doing, I have taken manual control of one of the cameras and am zooming into the room, and after scanning across the bloodstained grass at the sergal’s feet, I find it. I find the chip that was once imbedded in the nape of his neck. He… Did Fenrir purposely hurt himself in order to remove the chip…?

Anxiously following subject S3R-G6L’s gaze, I find him locked onto Joe, and much like I had feared, our colleague is completely immobilised. His arms dangle limply at his sides and mouth hangs agape; He is utterly transfixed on the prism of expanding colours. These waves of iridescent light glowing from Fenrir’s eyes are immediately recognisable to me as an ability borrowed from the Broadclub Cuttlefish. Something it uses to hypnotise its prey…

Huxley: “Shut it down! Müllen! Put him to sleep!” looking up in a stupefied haze, I find the general is leaned so far over the railing that it almost appears as if he’s about to pounce upon me.

Josh: “I-I can’t… It’s… Th-the chip…” His face becomes red with fury at my apparent disobedience, and I’m only drawn from my stupor as Darren grabs my shoulders and starts shaking me till our eyes lock.

Darren: “Josh! What are you doing!? Stop him!” I can only shake my head while raising a trembling finger to point at my monitor, and as Darren’s green gaze flickers towards it, I feel his grip tighten through a gasp when he finally notices what the camera is zoomed in on.

Darren: “H-His chip! The sergal removed it with the blades!” He shouts this without releasing me from his grip, and while I should be activating the sonic devices, I am overly distracted by watching Joe pull the keycard from his pocket and swiping it through a slot on his terminal before typing in a command. Joe’s eyes reflect the same prismatic colours glowing in Fenrir’s eyes, his actions appearing almost mindless. I can only watch in horror as our colleague issues the command right before Huxley can finish screaming his name.

Huxley: “SANDERS!? What are you doing!?” The hiss of the blast doors opening in Fenrir’s habitat resound forebodingly, and as soon as they click into the frames, a deafening silence washes over the room. Everyone becomes suspended in this moment that literally feels frozen in time, and only from the sound of Joe’s body collapsing to the floor as he is released from the sergal’s hypnotic gaze, only then does urgency return to us.

Huxley: “CLOSE THE FUCKING DOORS!!!” His voice issues utter chaos. All the scientists in the room frantically and without coordination pull the keycards from their pockets to reseal the doors, but the moment I hear the first beep from one of the consoles asking for acknowledgement, it’s already far too late. Faster than lightning, subject S3R-G6L slithers between the blast doors before they can close, and just as monumentally as before, we become caught in an unbearable moment of silence were Fenrir stands motionlessly in front of the door and casts his hateful gaze across every single one of us.

I’m not so much brought from my stupor as I am pulled from it, for as soon as the room erupts into a cohort of screams, gunfire, and mayhem, Darren yanks me from my chair, pulls me up the stairs, and hauls me out the entrance behind the general before even the investors can think of escaping.

As Darren drags me into the white passageway alongside the frantic panic of the other employees, a deafening barrage of bullets resounds behind us as the lab security tries to nullify the sergal. My body moves on its own accord, and I only realise that I’m running when I feel myself trampling over someone.

Darren: “Keep running! We can’t stop!” It’s Darren’s voice that finally brings me back to reality, and despite some part of me wanting to stop and help the poor soul who I just ran over, the crowd and Darren’s constant tugging of my lab coat wretch me forward and around the corner of the next cross section.

Darren: “We have to make it to the elevators! We have to–!?” He is cut off as a barrage of red lights flashes through the halls, turning the once white corridors red between the blaring sirens. We’ve been through this drill countles_s times and know _exactly what it means, yet despite this knowledge, our pace doesn’t stop, and as we round the corner and come crashing into the elevators, despair takes us. Some of the employees frantically try to scan their keycards to open the elevators, while others are failing to pry or bash the doors open with brute force, I can even see a few people bursting into tears as realisation dawns on them. No one seems to know what we are supposed to do now, not even me.

Darren: “W-we’re… Trapped… We’re trapped down here with that fucking thing!” Despite knowing this is the protocol if ever the sergal should break free and we fail to immobilise it, hearing Darren speak these words shatters that last part of my delayed cognition and I return his grip, pulling him away from the chaotic frustrations of the crowd and towards one of the walls.

Josh: “W-we have to get out of here! Fenrir will be drawn to the crowd through thermoreception! This place will become a bloodbath!” Despite my earlier thoughts of helping that poor person we trampled, instinct to survive courses through me like a hot liquid, and no matter how guilty I feel about abandoning everyone, sticking together right now is the worst possible idea. Fenrir will come here, without a doubt, not only can he sense the heat our bodies put off, but he has better hearing than a bat, a sense of smell more powerful than that of a bloodhound, and keen eyesight structured to locate movement, akin to that of an eagle’s. We have no choice but to abandon our colleagues.

Darren: “But–” Darren is cut off by a shrill scream as the crowd by one of the elevators erupts like pinballs at a bowling alley! Their bodies go flying in all directions with a spray of blood, and at the centre of it all, I spot Fenrir standing on his hind paws with one of the investors clutched between his jaws, and in one fell bite, the sergal snaps the man’s body in two!

Chaos breaks out once more, and despite witnessing the masses fleeing in every direction and having Darren press me to the wall so that we don’t become trampled, I can’t help but notice when Fenrir ignores the scientists and goes straight for another of the investors. He tears the America man in two just like the last investor before pouncing for another and stomps him to death. I’m suddenly wretched forward and thrust into the rushing crowd, and through my disorientated vision, find that Darren is frantically yanking me forward.

The sound of blood curdled screams, bone, flesh and limbs being torn apart, and the combined panic of the crowd mentality overriding rational thoughts have sent me into overdrive, but before I can completely become one with the herd, I pull on Darren’s arm as we are passing one of the shorter passages leading to a supply closet and move to yank him into it with me, yet despite my best efforts, all I can accomplish is freeing myself from his clutches, and before I can try regrip Darren’s outstretched arm, I watch in dismay as his face disappears into the rushing crowd and he is pulled away from me while I fall into the passage!

Josh: “D-Darren!” I scream in distress while jumping to my feet and briefly consider rejoining the rushing mob of panicked feet falling without coordination, but before I can try locate Darren in the swarm, a thunderous roar reverberates down the passage from whence we came, causing the pace of the fleeing crowd to amplify right as heavy footfalls start stomping towards us.

My co-workers scream in distress and become even more uncoordinated than before, so much so that a few of them trip and become trampled beneath the ensuing disorganisation. It’s a sight that has my own survival instincts kick in, and right at the last possible millisecond, I’m able to throw myself against the wall just as Fenrir charges past and steamrolls over my felled colleagues! Subject S3R-G6L impales one of them through the chest with his foreclaws, crushes a blond woman’s head beneath his immense weight, and races past me with a gust of air and a single-minded objective to kill.

I remain motionless in the wake of terror echoing off the walls as it fades further into the complex. My eyes are trained numbly on the bloody pawprints leading away from the carnage, the crushed remains of what used to be human beings, and the dismembered body parts strewn across the floor. I observe with stupefaction as the man looking right at me releases his final gurgled and bloody breath before his eyes roll into the back of his skull and he expires.

Josh “…” It’s… This can’t be happening… This can’t be happening! I screw my eyes shut and try to wake myself up from this horrible nightmare I find myself trapped in, but the wailing in the distance and the sound of gunfire has them shoot open just as quickly as they had closed. Tears stream down my face as despair takes me. I frantically try to wipe them away with my blood sleeve, but they continue to cascade down my face alongside my endless terror.

My body is shaking with extreme fear and the continued effects of adrenaline, and despite understanding that I should be moving, that I should be doing anything, I am petrified to the point that I feel galvanised to the floor. Images of the cruel and gruesome deaths I’ve just witness keep replaying in my mind over and over again like a horror movie set on repeat, and even as the siren’s end, even when the screams abate, I am not drawn from my mind-numbing fear.

What finally brings my spiralling focus back is the sound of subject S3R-G6L roaring. He bellows so loudly that I initially think he’s turned back around and is coming to kill me, but as the screaming in the distance cuts off my yelp with a barrage of gunfire, I finally realise that I have no time for sentiments or to remain here. My body moves out of instinct, my disorientated thought process feels akin to that of a computer being woken up from sleep mode and instantly being made to process multiple memory draining programs. I can’t focus on what I’m doing as my body moves through fear and the desperation to survive.

I run mindlessly back the way I came while doing my best to avoid the bodies lining the bloodstained hall. Some of these people were killed by us in our disorganised escape, while others were trampled beneath the paws of the sergal. They are laying in pools of blood, impaled by their own bones, or completely recognisable as human’s anymore, while the ones unlucky enough to not die in the wake of chaos are now left writhing in pain with their dismembered body parts laying scattered between the many corpses.

It seems that the entire facility had converged by the elevators when the alarms sounded, because some of these people are from entirely different sectors. And with all of us conveniently gathered in one spot and having nowhere else to flee, our panicked wailing all but ringing the dinner bell for the sergal, we became sitting ducks, and were promptly subjected to Fenrir’s animalistic wrath.

Seeing people that I once had coffee with, folk I spoke to in length about methods of deconstructing DNA and binding nucleotides… Seeing them now, unmoving, ripped to pieces, and sometimes completely unrecognisable beyond their nametags… It’s incomprehensible. My mind can’t properly process what I’m seeing. I’ve never born witness to anyone dying before, so seeing so many corpses at once… My mind goes blank with terror and rife with fright, instinct being the only thing keeping my distressed form moving.

I run hastily through the wide hallways I wish were narrower. Perhaps if these passages were smaller, more of us would have survived? But much to our downfall, Jikken had constructed them wide and tall enough to permit literal trucks to pass through, and with subject S3R-G6L being not just comparable in size, but as devastating as if he were a literal vehicle that mowed us down, we never stood a chance at escaping him.

I understand that I have little hope of outrunning Fenrir, as not only does he have the speed of a cheetah and the endurance to keep chasing us for an entire week without stopping, he also has echolocation that would make hiding near impossible. Yet despite this knowledge of how futile my chances of escape are, that we are trapped down here with a killing machine, my body moves out of desperation, out of instinct to survive, driven out of pure fear for my life.

We had so many fail-safes in case of this very situation, why have none of them been activated? I know the electroshock and high frequency ones relied mostly on the chip implanted in the nape of his neck, but surely the other protocols should have been activated by now. I remember hearing how there are weapons built into the walls of every hallway, why hasn’t anyone armed them? And even if those proved useless against subject S3R-G6L, shouldn’t we have speakers to emit sound? Prongs to administer shocks? Maybe I could make it to one of the labs and mix up something to–

Josh: “!!!” I stumble at the screaming of someone’s dying breathes as they echo from around the corner I was just about to turn and backpedal so hastily that I slip in blood and almost collapse to the floor! Shit! How did the sergal get back to this side of the facility so quickly?? Did he run a full circle around the passageways and into Corridor D-12?? Without thinking about what I’m doing, I pull the keycard from my pocket, slide it through the closest PDQ slot, and dash between the blast doors before quickly shutting them on the other side!

I stand motionless, sweating thought haggard breathes as my heart thumps in my throat and deafens me to the horrors out in the hallway. Shit… Shit! Will Fenrir smell my scent and come after me?? These doors aren’t exactly constructed with the purpose of keeping a thirteen-hundred-pound sergal out, could he ram them down with enough force?? Fuck! Maybe I can hack the keypad and bring down the security gate to secure the door like Darren showed me? The only problem with that plan is that I have no idea how he did it… I curse myself for having been so overly distracted with the boner in his pants and wish that I had paid more attention to what could have very well saved my life instead of how excited I was to suck him off before our break ended.

Having caught my breath and finding that I’m thinking more clearly through my temporary safety, I turn around and realise that I’ve entered the animal containment area. The cavernous space is about two-hundred feet from left to right and a-hundred-and-twenty metres from here to the very end. There’s a small control room on the other side, while the walls to my left and right contain armoured glass doors spaced evenly apart. Within them are the enclosures of animals that were used to splice Fenrir’s genes, perhaps…

I wonder if I could distract subject S3R-G6L with the animals in here? I know I’m assuming a lot, but if Fenrir somehow gets through the blast doors, I’d rather have a plan than to mindlessly panic. Perhaps I could release some of the more docile animals and prey on his ignorance to captivate him? There are so many new scents in here that it might help in distracting the sergal long enough for me to escape. I could then see about making it to one of the medical labs where I can compound a sedative to inoculate him. How long will it take for Jikken to send a team to detain Fenrir? It doesn’t matter, I’ll concoct something to knock him out and worry about what to do from there.

Stepping through the empty walkway between the many pens and towards the control room on the other side, I look around the cavernous space and try to formulate a plan. There might be some tranquilisers in the control room, and maybe even some shock sticks, but I know for certain that whatever is kept here wouldn’t be strong enough to even make Fenrir drowsy. His body is far too adept at neutralising foreign chemicals, so much so that I’ve recently been forced to use sedatives meant for whales, and even that was starting to fail.

Perhaps I could lure Fenrir into one of the animal pens and locking him inside? There are sheep here, one of his favourite foods… I could also release some of the predators, they would surely attack him, right? Maybe some of the birds? Subject S3R-G6L has never seen anything fly before…

I make it to the control room during fruitless musing, and upon entering, find the space just as I had expected. There are many electronic lockers and storage units lining the back wall, while to my left and right are rows of control stations that are surrounded by windows overlooking the animal bay.

Rushing to the station on my right, I frantically start searching through the interface to find a way to either secure the blast doors or to perhaps initialise fail-safes and end the lockdown, but other than this station being restricted completely to this sector, there seems to be firewalls preventing me from even logging in with my keycard.

Shit… What was the protocol if subject S3R-G6L escapes? The entire facility will lock all external exits and then headquarters will be informed of the outbreak, right? Does that mean they’ll send help soon? How long will it take for Jikken to get a team out here? Fuck! Why was this place built in the middle of nowhere!? By the time they arrive, we’ll all be dead!

Panic starts to take me and I decide to abandon the control panel to instead look through each of the electronic lockers for something I could use. I find a random assortment of animal care products, tranquilisers that wouldn’t work against Fenrir, catchpoles, and tools I have no idea what purpose they hold.

Josh: “Fuck…” Even if there were a rifle in here, it wouldn’t help in taking subject S3R-G6L down. If the armed lab guards couldn’t kill him, what chance would I have? Slumping back into one of the swivel chairs, I lazily gloss through the operations while trying to calm myself by inhaling a few steady breathes and assessing my situation logically.

Perhaps I’m overthinking this? Would Fenrir even come after me? The doors are locked, and I’m not certain that he’d prioritise hunting us down as opposed to finding a way out of the facility. Though… With the way subject S3R-G6L went after those investors, it almost seemed as if he had a grudge against them. Was it because he understood their intentions of using him? Because we were all clapping as if he were a circus act? Fenrir is insanely intelligent, so perhaps he became aware of what our intentions were through some extrasensory perception? Electroreception has often been compared to ESP… Or maybe Fenrir understood our objective through chemoreception? Most mammals produce different scents based on their intentions, could he have read ours?

Taking off my lab coat that’s covered in blood and making me feel claustrophobic, I undo the top two buttons of my dress shirt, huff out a breath, lean back in the chair, and close my eyes. How the fuck did I wind up in this situation? I always understood how illegal certain experiments we do here are, and the potential dangers involved with this line of work, but I was so assured by Jikken’s safety protocols and advanced technology that I thought even if something horrible like this were to happen, there’d be so many ways to assure that their trillion-euro project didn’t slaughter us all.

That’s… They wouldn’t actively be allowing this to happen… Right? I mean, I’ve heard controversy surrounding the immoral things Jikken does, specifically the human experimentation conducted in certain labs, but the conglomeration of proprietors aren’t so evil as to allow an entire facility to go under… Right?

No, no… That’s stupid, of course they wouldn’t. It would put subject S3R-G6L at too much risk. They’d sooner blow this facility up than allow their project to escape into the world. Fuck… I hope that’s not their plan! This is the only location containing all their research on the sergal and the information on how to sequence his DNA, right? Jikken would never allow thirty years and countless expenses to be blown up without at least salvaging it…

Before I can delve too deeply into these worrisome thoughts, I jolt in my chair as movement on the other end of the containment area draws my attention, and locking eyes with the blast doors, my heart stalls in my chest as I watch Fenrir stride inside and look around so nonchalantly that you’d easily mistake him for an executive preforming a surprise inspection.

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!! How the hell did he get in here?? The door isn’t torn to ribbons, does that mean he used a keycard!? Better yet, why did he come in here?? Was my earlier concern about him locating my lingering scent in the hall true?? Is he hunting me down like those investors!? Perhaps the muffled sound or faint scent of the animals drew him in here?? Goddamnit!

Ducking down as if I were hiding form my old high school bullies, my heart pounds in my chest and constricts my airways while my eyes frantically dance around my surroundings as if they would offer a solution to my predicament. Peering just over the touch screen monitors built into the table, I spy on Fenrir and find him to be tapping on the glass door of one of the cages, seemingly very curious about its inhabitant. Perhaps this is my chance?

Taking a deep breath that does nothing to stop the rattling in my chest or the shaking of my hands, my sweaty touch runs across the screens and I find the options available to me. I could unlock the cell he’s interested in, lock him inside, and hope that subject S3R-G6L is distracted long enough with its inhabitant so that I can escape before he breaks free? Are these glass doors even constructed from the same materials as his habitat? The neutralising prongs within these cells don’t appear to be strong enough to subdue him either… Maybe I could release all the animals at once? The chaos could give me enough time to escape to the other end of the room and slip through the door without being noticed. The predators shouldn’t rush after me, they’d be just as disorientated as Fenrir with all the animals running around.

Shit! He just walked away from the pen! I guess I have no other choice now. I hope that this plan works. I would feel pretty stupid for dying in the jaws of a tiger after everything… I chuff in stilted amusement as I run through the interface and hover my finger just above the confirmation key.

Josh: “…” After a silent prayer, and a moment where I consider submitting myself to a life as a monk where I’ll renounce all worldly pleasures should any divine being allow me safe passage out of this bay, I execute the order and my eyes shoot over the dashboard while I watch in frozen apprehension as all the glass doors slide open in unison.

Fenrir jumps back in surprise, but becomes focused just as quickly as he was startled. I can see the glint in his eyes as he observes his surroundings, his gaze dances to the many animals emerging, his sights calculative, curious, and concerned for this unforeseen occurrence. Almost immediately, Fenrir’s yellow eyes lock onto the Alaskan timber wolves leaving their pens.

Seven of them converge upon subject S3R-G6L as if they were surrounding prey out in the wilds. Their hackles are raised, lips pulled back, and muscles tensed, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. I’m not sure if this is some act of dominance, as surely they must sense the lupine scent Fenrir’s genes translate into his smell, but I’m still shocked to see them so assertively encircle him.

Fenrir imitates them, he lowers his head and observes the pack’s movements like a hunter waiting for the right moment to strike, yet before I become too invested in this stare down, and before courage can fail me, I escape into the room and make a mad dash towards the goats emerging from my right!

Before I can dive into the herd for cover, the horned nuisances scatter as if I were a wolf attacking them, and subsequently, they start a chain event. Not only do the goats go into a frantic panic that issues the other animals to race for safety, but and as luck would have it, I meet Fenrir’s eyes as I crouch where I had hoped to be ensconced. Our sights lock in such an intense way that the realisation sparking between us feels visceral, physical as if two old friends were meeting years after losing contact, or war rivals finally coming face to face after months of subterfuge.

For a moment, I fear that the sergal will abandon the faceoff with the large wolves and run me down, but his eyes only flicker between the encircling lupines and me in assessment. I can see the calculative look behind his eyes and the very moment that he realises it was me who orchestrated this distraction, and in that same split second, he leaps!

Fenrir pounces upon the closest wolf and breaks his neck with a single bite before throwing the corpse into a different wolf before tackling a third! The sight of Fenrir slaughtering them down brings me the urgency I need to move. I rush through the animals without pause, knowing that every second I waste could be the difference between life and death, and even as I dash past a curious tiger emerging from his cage, my feet do not falter in their frantic pace.

No animals come for me, and none interrupt my escape, for as I had previously perceived, the beasts are overstimulated with everything going on. Owls and hawks are swarming the ceiling and look for a way out, while foxes and cheetahs scurry for cover atop storage boxes and in empty animal pens. I rush right past a crocodile I fear might lunge for me, but not even he risks at attack. Nothing hinders my escape, and before I know it, I’m skidding along the floor near the entrance, scooping up the bloody keycard Fenrir had acquired, using it to unlock the blast doors, and rushing out before turning to close them.

Turning to swipe the keycard through the PDQ, I see that subject S3R-G6L has killed all those wolves already charging towards me! The hairs on the back of my neck prickles as I slip the bloody card through the slot, thinking that perhaps it might not close in time, but just before he reaches me, the blast doors slam shut by mere milliseconds! Yet before relief can find me, I jolt in fright as Fenrir rams the doors with so much power that he actually bends the metal!

I’m not sure what I’m more shocked by, me being able to slip past all those animals without being attack, or Fenrir killing seven giant Alaskan timber wolves in less than a minute. Most of his muscle structure consists of puma DNA, which gives him incredible agility, while chimpanzee strains were used to form the complexity of his musculature, which not only grants him incredible strength, but this muscle formation allowed the sergal to propel himself even faster. The very idea that someone as unfit as me, who’s only real athletic achievement is escaping school bullies, sounds so ridiculous, that I actually find myself chuckling at the absurdity.

My laughter quickly dies in my throat when another violent tackle to the blast door has me jumping away! Thankfully they only rattle this time, Fenrir likely didn’t build up enough speed to cause another dent. In the same motion of him growling in apparent frustration of me escaping, I hear the commotion on the other side escalate into what sounds like the animals fighting. I quickly take this as my queue to leave.

With more focus than when I had while sprinting down this hallway earlier, I move forward with purpose and determination. If there is anywhere in the facility that would be not just the safest place to hunker down, but the only area I can hope of disabling the lockdown, it has to be the security office.

Skidding around the first corner, I cringe at the sight of the elevators coming into view. There are dismembered bodies littering the area in such a horrific way that I feel my stomach roil and my legs wobble. I’ve never been one for gore, and considering I’d rather sit through one of Huxley’s lectures than endure a horror movie, I find myself stalling right at the precipice of the room. Unable to move, unable to blink, even the smell starts to inspire fear in me.

The floor is covered in coagulating blood that pools around disembowelled torsos, decapitated heads captured in twisted expressions of pain, and dismembered limbs that lay across the room as if an angry toddler had ripped their dolls apart in a temper tantrum. I close my eyes and turn away from the scene while trying to stop myself from retching. The intense smell of viscera, urine, faeces, and blood mingling together creates a smell that only death can produce. These combined sights and scents give rise to such an intense feeling of terror that my mind goes blank, my blood freezes, my limbs stiffen, and all at once, I feel as if I’m on the verge of losing consciousness.

I’m not sure what snaps me out of it, perhaps it’s the urgency of knowing that my life will end should I remain in place, the worry that Fenrir could break free at any second and add my body to the corpses in this room, or perhaps even some primordial instinct for survival taking over, but my eyes open, and before fear can consume me completely, I rush through the corpses with an uncharacteristic indifference. I don’t care when I stand in their congealed blood, when my shoes brush against their lifeless faces, and not even as I see one of the bodies twitching in what I can only hope is a cadaveric spasm.

I dash out the room while shaking off the lingering feeling of their dead bodies touching me and round the corner into Corridor A-01 so fast that it’s hard to believe I had asthma as a kid. I tear down the passage with frantic movements befitting of a sprinter, my heavy footfalls echoing off the walls in such a harrowing call that I fear I may be giving away my location.

I’m barely able to stop myself at the entrance to the security office, as with how much blood is staining my shoes, I skid and have to latch onto the doorframe. I quickly regain my balance, reach into my pocket, retrieve the keycard, and slide it through the reader in the blink of an eye, and before my body can catch up with my unfocused thoughts, I’m throwing myself into the room. However, as soon as I rush inside, I come face to face with the barrel of a gun!

For a moment, it feels like time stops. All I can see is the black muzzle of a rifle aimed right at my face and the blurry outline of the man pointing it at me. I think it’s all over, that despite my miraculous escape, I’ll wind up dying in such an anticlimactic way that even if a movie was filmed about a monster escaping its habitat and killing the people who created it, my scene wouldn’t make the cut, but as the door swooshes closed behind me and the person lowers their weapon, reality comes crashing back just as hard as the man leaps upon me.

???: “JOSH!? Fuck! You’re alive!” Realisation only sets in when his voice reaches me, and with this idiot hugging me so tightly that breathing becomes even more difficult than it already is, my body jolts in reciprocation for but a moment before desperately pushing him off.

Darren: “Shit… C-come, sit down. You look like shit.” Guiding me towards a bench set against the wall, Darren keeps one arm around my shoulder while pressing his other hand into my chest and looks at me in such a clinical way that I could almost mistake him for having studied a different field.

Darren: “How in the blue-balled- fuck did you make it out of there?? I thought for sure sergeant sergal got you in the hallway…” I’m still trying to catch my breath after running, and Darren seems to understand why I can’t respond, for before I can finish shaking my head, he hands me a bottle of water.

Darren: “Drink.” He doesn’t have to tell me twice, as soon as Darren unscrews the cap, I down the entire bottle and instantly find relief. I feel like one of those game characters after they drink a health potion and suddenly become healed of all their wounds. And while my voice still trembles as I try to speak, it feels as if life has returned to my shivering body.

Josh: “Th-thanks.” He nods with a sympathetic smile and issues a side hug before trying to assess my condition once again.

Darren: “Are you hurt?” I shake my head and take note of the trail of blood I’ve left from the doorway to the bench.

Josh: “I-it’s not my blood.” He nods in understanding and a momentary silence takes us. I can see the look of worry Darren has in his eyes through my peripherals, and can tell that he’s about to inquire about my health again, so before he can, I quickly break the silence.

Josh: “H-have you tried the computers? C-can we stop this lockdown?” The last word barely finishes falling from my lips when Darren shakes his head. His expression becoming even more solemn as he cast his gaze across the room.

Darren: “I came here for the same reason. The computers are locked to this hallway. I can’t access anything outside this section, not even the elevators…” I grit my teeth and surmise that it’s going to be like this across the entire facility. This is the closest room to the elevators, so if there was anywhere to reactivate them, it would be here.

Josh: “What about Huxley’s office? M-maybe the computer terminals there wouldn’t be locked out of the network? O-or perhaps he has some type of access key that could override this lockdown?” Darren pulls his arm from my shoulder and rests both of his elbows on his knees before he leans forward with his hands cupping his jaw.

Darren: “Maybe… But that’s a big risk to take for a maybe. Huxley’s office is on the other side of the facility, and who knows where sergeant sergal is right now.” I join him in leaning forward and grip my hands between my legs.

Josh: “I-I locked him in the animal containment area, b-but I doubt he’ll remain there for long…” Darren turns to me with wide eyes before laughing and patting my back so roughly that I almost topple forward.

Darren: “Way-hey! Look at you! Fighting off sergeant sergal as if you’ve been in countless wars~!” I roll my eyes and push him away, huffing out my annoyance as I do. As much as I’m grateful that this idiot is alive, I wish he wouldn’t crack jokes at a time like this.

Josh: “Come on, Darren. Please take this seriously. And stop calling him “Sergeant sergal”.” He blows out a raspberry and stands from the bench while strapping the rifle across his chest and securing it against his back.

Darren: “Hey. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Besides, he doesn’t sound so scary when you think of him like one of those cartoonish mascots.” I’m not sure if that logic makes Fenrir more or less terrifying. Either way, I don’t want to think of something that’s trying to kill us as “Sergeant sergal”, being trapped down here and hunted by him is degrading enough.

Josh: “So what’s the plan? Are there any flamethrowers here?” As I move to stand at his side and assess the room, Darren guffaws and pats my back.

Darren: “You’re kidding, right? You know that the guards weren’t outfitted with anything like that.” Yeah, I guess… They were mostly hired to keep tabs on us, protect the facility, and assure that no one stole Jikken research…

Josh: “What about electricity? Maybe we can get to the power reactor and detach some of the cables?” Now Darren looks at me with an expression somewhere between impressed and teasing while he cocks an eyebrow.

Darren: “Sure, MacGyver. I bet those noodle arms of yours will be able to uncouple those giant cables. Just be sure not to electrocute yourself, m’kay~?” I puff indignantly and punch him in the arm, and despite how much force I put into the hit, Darren doesn’t even flinch before he returns my punch with the same amount of force, causing me to whimper as my face turns red.

Josh: “I’m serious , Darren! Please stop joking around and help me figure this out!” That teasing smirk falls from his face and becomes an empty one, hollow of any emotion as his eyes cast over the other side of the room.

Darren: “Sorry, Josh. I’ve got nothing. Unless you can concoct some type of miracle serum to kill serg– err… Subject S3R-G6L, then we’re fucked.” I deflate and breath out a heavy sigh. In the same breath, Darren cautiously moves to stand in front of me and gently places his hands on either of my shoulders, rubbing them affectionately as his touch and voice soften.

Darren: “Look… I’m not trying to upset you or make our situation seem hopeless, but if I stop joking around, I’m scared I’ll start thinking about putting a gun barrel in my mouth and ending it before that asshole can.” He says this while giving me a sympathetic nod. I return the gesture listlessly and hang my head in defeat, feeling my determination failing with every second passing.

Josh: “Th-there has to be a way… I… I can’t just give up…” Sighing out a heavy breath that warms the top of my head, Darren pulls me into his chest and tenderly wraps his arms around me.

Darren: “I’m sorry, Josh… I-I wish I could get us out of this. I really do…” While Darren and I have only fooled around in the past, we’ve always had a pretty good connection from day one. Hell, we’ve hardly even met outside of the facility and we’re close enough that I think of him as a friend. And considering that I’m severely lacking those in my life, maybe he could have become my best friend if we had more time. Maybe even something more…

Josh: “I-it’s alright… You don’t need to do anything, I just… I don’t like giving up without trying everything I can.” Darren chortles and I feel his voice resonate in his chest before he pulls me to arm’s length, and with his hands holding either side of my neck, his green gaze dances between my eyes.

Darren: “Oh, believe you me, I know~ There’s never been a problem you couldn’t find a solution to. Maybe you’re not the same Josh I first met, hmm~? Don’t tell me that they’ve cloned and replaced my Joshy-woshy with a test-tube baby that can’t solve all my problems~!” Darren starts smooshing my cheeks together and talking to me with a sickly-sweet voice as if I were an infant, and despite my cheeks reddening, my glasses being pushed from my face, and his banter flicking those switches in the back of my skull that make me want to punch him in the face, I can’t help but chuckle at his antics.

Josh: “!!!” But just as quickly as the laughter tickles my throat, Darren steals it by leaning down and locking our lips together! My whole-body tenses as his face presses into mine while his fingers trace through my hair and grip the nape of my neck as his other hand snakes beneath my arm and finds its way to my back and presses us closer together. Just as instantly as I had flinched, so too does all that anxiety wash from me when the warmth of his kiss seeps into me.

My arms wrap around the man before me, and as soon as I begin to reciprocate his embrace, Darren’s tongue presses against my lips and demands entrance. I allow him into my mouth without hesitation and his tongue instantly collides with mine in such a passionate way that all thoughts fall from me. I become absolutely lost in his embrace and addicted to his kiss more than any need for air, for cognition, or even for life itself.

Darren has always been an amazing kisser. He may be a dork who constantly leaves his rubbish scattered across my station, someone who tells the corniest dad-jokes, and is the type of guy who purposely gets on my nerves every chance he gets, but right now it feels as if the entire world has fallen from us. All the dangers, all the terror, all the death, it has no place in this moment where we share a kiss. In this passionate embrace, there is only us…

Darren suddenly goes rigid and shatters the perfect world he had pulled me into. His lips that were once fervently pressing into me peel back through a seething breath, and his tongue that was wrapped around my own so desperately stiffens abruptly. My eyes flutter open in confusion as the taste of blood hits me and I’m immediately met with Darren’s distressed expression, his are eyes wide open, lips stained with blood, and the aghast look he bears fully pulls me from the swelling sensation his kiss brought me.

Josh: “Darren! Wh–” Before I can finish my sentence, the sight of blue fur catches my gaze, and right as it comes into focus, so too does the towering figure wrapping its jaws around the back of Darren’s neck!

Josh: “AHH!!!” I spill from Darren’s arms right as Fenrir stands up to his full height, and in the same motion of lifting him from the floor, subject S3R-G6L wraps his hands around Darren’s biceps and completely immobilises him. The gasping man’s eyes widen in dismay as he dangles stiffly in Fenrir’s grip while choking on his own blood, and despite being unable to turn and face the beast, I can tell by the terrified look in his bloodshot eyes that he perfectly understands he’s been captured by the sergal.

I watch mindlessly from the floor, unbelieving of what I’m seeing as Darren continues to cough out blood and kick wildly in a futile attempt to escape, but with subject S3R-G6L’s jaws latched around neck, his entire head is all but engulfed in the sergals mouth.

I’m not certain if this moment is slowing down due to the adrenaline coursing through my veins, or if Fenrir is taunting me with Darren’s death, but his green gaze suddenly shoots down as if remembering that I’m here, and as soon as our sights lock, Darren gives me such a telling gaze that I can practically hear his voice screaming for me to run. And while his pleading expression isn’t lost to me, it’s only when I see him twisting his arm behind his back, only when I hear the loud explosion of gunfire echoing, only then that urgency returns to me.

Fenrir roars in pain at the surprise attack, pulling back and inadvertently allowing Darren to get a better grip on the rifle he now awkwardly aims straight into the sergal’s gut! Its in this split second where Darren is freed from subject S3R-G6L’s jaws that he spits out the blood pooling in his mouth and turns to me with a look of desperation and screams at the top of his lungs.

Darren: “R-RUN!!!” His gargled plea is drowned out by the ear shattering sound of the rifle he’s yet to stop firing, but just as quicky as he had pulled the trigger, Fenrir wretches the gun from behind Darren’s back and breaks it with a single bite! I jump to my feet in the same action and turn to flee right as Fenrir parts his lips and lunges to bite Darren. And right before I can slip through the doors, before the sergal’s massive jaws can fully lock around my friend’s face, I see a smile of gratitude spreading across Darren’s lips…

That stinted moment of time that slowed down long enough for our kiss to stretch into eternity, long enough for terror to sink into my flesh at the sudden arrival of the sergal, it comes crashing down with a weight just as heavy as the thump I hear hitting the floor inside the security room. Right before I slipped through the blast doors, I caught sight of Darren’s head being ripped from his shoulders, and despite every part of my being screaming that I rush back inside and shoot holes into Fenrir’s face for killing the only person I care about, my body moves out of instinct, fuelled by the last thing Darren ever asked of me.

With tears streaming down my face, my heart pounding in my ears, and my legs wobbling like jelly, I run blindly down the hallway with the full understanding that at any moment now, Fenrir will burst through the security office, chase me down, pin me to the floor, and end my life just violently as he had Darren’s.

How did subject S3R-G6L even enter the room? I know he is a sneaky bastard that’s more silent a stalker than a leopard, but I didn’t hear the doors hiss open. Could he have come in through the air vents? I know sergal bodies are flexible enough that he can fit through impossibly small spaces. Or were we perhaps just so focused on our kiss that we didn’t hear him?

As I tear down the corridor with thoughts frantic in fear and my body trembling in absolute terror, my clouded vision latches onto one of the signs overhead that points towards the loading bay, and as soon as the word properly registers in my mind, it’s like a switch is flipped. I almost miss the turn and crash into the left wall while skidding into the hallway, but my pace doesn’t stall for a second as I make a mad dash down Corridor B-04.

Why hadn’t I thought of this already? The elevators may be inoperable, and there is no way for me to physically open them on my own, but surely this cannot be said for the loading bay? There is a terminal there that I could possibly bypass and use to ride the carriage to the surface! And even if the lift is subjected to lockdown, the shaft will still be left wide open!

Darren once had to fix a hydraulic hatch inside the enormous hoistway, and while I was exhaustedly bored with him explaining the many details of the mechanics involved in a cab strong enough to carry more than ten tons up and down six-hundred feet without any strain, I couldn’t be more grateful for him overexplaining, because not only do I know that there is there a ladder I can use to climb all the way to the top, but if these sliding hatch doors, which are at every hundred foot mark, are locked, there are manual releases I understand how to engage, the only issue will be having enough strength to pry them open.

Filled with a sense of hope upon this memory, I hurtle down the hallway and turn into the next corridor, but as I do, I instantly find that the blast door at the far end of it is half opened and has sparks spewing from the frame; The lights above it are flickering in obvious structural damage. There are two dead bodies outside the entrance as well, one of which has been ripped in two. They appear to be lab security, and by the looks of it, must have been guarding the entrance. I can only hope that the security team hasn’t already left to the surface with the cab and somehow prevented it from returning…

Before I can reach the door, an errant thought occurs to me, and with much hesitance, I slow my pace just enough to spare a glance over my shoulder. It’s… Eerily quiet. Reaching the entrance and resting my hand on the unhinged door, confusion interrupts my fear and I look once again down the passage I ran, and just like before, I find nothing. What’s… Going on? Where is he?

Looking deeper into the endless labyrinth of corridors stretched out behind me, I strain my ears and listen for any indication that I’m being chased, but the only sounds I can hear are the crackling of the sparks emitting from the broken doorframe, the echoing hollowness of the now eldritch hallway, and the pounding of my own heart thumping in my ears.

It’s… Is Fenrir not coming after me…? I feel stupefied and am unable to comprehend this drastic change of pace. Where these hallways were once filled with the tortured screams of my colleagues being torn in half and the hail of gunfire issued by corpses that now line the floors, this silence becomes a dissonance, harrowing in a way that it seems wholly unnatural.

My dumbfounded musings are sharply broken by a loud clank of what sounds like a metal pipe falling on the floor down the passageway to my right, but as my eyes rake across the empty hallway, the dread I feel in my chest only sinks deeper, roiling within my stomach like the feeling of food poisoning. It causes my testicles to pull into my abdomen and my throat to tighten.

I… Don’t like this. The silence surrounding me is menacing enough, but the absence of the sergal who just killed my only friend is so unnerving that it feels as if I have fallen into another world. My frightened gaze dashes to the left, but I find the conjoining hallways to be just as empty. Yet despite the surety vision gives me, I can’t shake this daunting feeling that I’m being watched…

After one final anxious glance down the central corridor, I gulp through my nerves and step into the loading bay properly. The room I know to be just as enormous, if not more so, than the animal containment area, is engulfed by shadows. Almost all of the ceiling lights are just as dysfunctional as the doorframe I stand within, only a few of them are flickering, they illuminate sparse patches of the bay as if trying to help make this horror-like scene I’ve stepped into feel even more frightening.

The loading bay is half-filled with containers, most of which are large wooden crates, that are stacked upon one another so high that they almost reach the ceiling. The middle of this sixty-by-a-hundred-and-twenty metred space is void of any clutter and lined with yellow and black caution stripes, but with how the faulty lights illuminate only small sections of it, the walkway feels more like a foreboding cobblestone alleyway set between towering brick buildings. It practically screams that murderers are waiting to ambush me from the shadows should I ever dare to cross it.

Josh: “…” I stall. My legs are unwilling to move forward as the sinister scene of a quiet, moonlit street plays out in my head. I’ve seen this very imagery many times over in the horror movies I was subjected to by my best friend in high school. She loved to force me to watch them with her, my screams seemed to delight her in ways that I’ll never understand. And the retro horror flicks she was most fond of were the very ones with this type of setting. The protagonist would often be walking home alone, in the dead of night, down a seemingly abandoned street that was lit only by towering lampposts, and just like those poor sobs who never stood a chance, the same feeling of weakness plays in my chest as I gulp through my dry throat.

Josh: “!!!” I almost jump out of my skin at the abrupt sound of a metal pipe cluttering to the floor somewhere behind me, it resonates down the hallways and urges me deeper into the darkness of the loading bay.

Shaking to the point that my legs feel like jelly, I huddle beside the closest crate and press my body firmly into the rough wooden surface, doing my best to stop hyperventilating and to control the dizziness that’s bringing me to the edge of losing consciousness.

Using an old trick from when I suffered frequent panic attacks, I close my eyes and focus on clenching my hands into fists while breathing in, and then releasing them in the same motion of exhaling. I do this for at least a minute and soon feel my pulse slowing, my clenched jaw loosen, and my trembling lips settle, and after a couple more breathes, focus returns to me and my mental faculties are released from the throes of fear.

Breathing out a final breath, the world that was once a blurry distortion of panic and angst is now clearer and more discernible, if still very unnerving.

Josh: “A-alright, I-I’ve got this…” Whispering encouragement to myself, I straighten up and steel my nerves, and after looking around the corner of the crate and down the walkway, I very carefully step out into open space of the loading bay. Instead of walking right through the middle of it, I choose to stick close to the boxes on my right. If Fenrir does suddenly show up, at least I’ll be able to try and escape him between the crates. Though, as I pass the first opening and look into the maze of interweaving containers, the sight doesn’t inspire the most reassuring feeling…

I feel like I’m seeing everything differently, and not just due to the lingering effects of cortisol and adrenaline lingering in my veins and making me hyper focused. It’s as if the air around me is electrified, for every hair on the back of my neck stands on end. It feels as if the shadows shrouding my sights have become a physical force that oozes like sludge bleeding from the walls and hinders my every step. It’s as if every breath, every neuron firing in my brain, and every grazing of my fingers against the wooden crates are infected with the lingering horror of death I left in the hallways. I find myself trapped in the remnants of fear, even now that my safety is so near, I can’t seem to escape.

Passing the central point of the loading bay, the cargo elevator comes into view. It rests in the middle of the far wall and has two identical control stations flanking either side of it. The carriage itself is about thirty-by-twenty feet wide, and much as I had previously anticipated, seems to be operational.

As my pace hastens at the sight and my heart beats in tempered hope, I step quicker towards it, but as I do, so too does my foot hook on something! I tumble forward with the inertia of my fall and am barely able to raise my arms in time to prevent my face from smashing into the cement!

Josh: “Umph!” My glasses shoot from my face and my arms ache with the force of the impact, and as I look over my shoulder for what my legs are currently laying over, it takes all the will within me to not let out a scream.

Scrambling off the corpse, I hold my hands over my mouth and inhale sharply through my nose as my eyes trail across the body of someone I once knew. His name was Paul, and he was perhaps the most amicable of the security guards. We would often speak in passing, and Darren and I used to have lunch with him whenever we could. So seeing him now, lying in a pool of his own blood without arms or legs… I can’t put into words how it makes me feel. My skin prickles, my thoughts race, and my stomach roils as the vision of Darren being decapitated is accompanied by the scene of Paul lying stiffly in his own blood.

I’m luckily able to retain my mental faculties and not vomit, to not fall back into panic and become crippled by my own fear. I spring to my feet with the urgency of fleeing this horrible scene, but it’s as I’m standing and turning to leave that my eyes catch sight of Paul’s face and a mournful thought passes through me. I wonder how his wife will feel when she hears of his passing? What exactly will Jikken say happened to him? What will even become of his little girl without him around to take care of her?

I shake these heart-breaking thoughts from my head and huddle against the boxes while turning to look at my target with forced determination.

Despite having lost my glasses, I can still make out that there are more bodies littering the walkway, most of which have been torn to pieces, and as I squint towards the distance, I see that I’m not all that far from the elevator. The lights near the carriage are mostly operational, and while that leaves me with less cover, being able to see clearly does help to somewhat ameliorate my fears.

I regain my previous pace with more caution this time and reach the last of the boxes lining the room in a matter of seconds. There is a wide-open space between me and the carriage that’s left uncluttered for forklifts to move cargo back and forth, leaving me with no option other than to dash the rest of the way. I wish I had the foresight to look for my glasses before fleeing, but my vision only loses focus on distant objects, so once I make it to the terminal it won’t be much of a problem to operate.

With one last breath for courage, and after looking over my shoulder towards the broken blast door and finding it just as unhinged as I had left it, I quickly walk into the light and straight towards the carriage, but as I reach the halfway make, a strange clicking sound catches my attention. It reminds me of that noise the raptors in that one dinosaur movie make, and it’s just as I’m identifying this sound that so too does realisation dawn on me, and even before this thought can properly register, I understand that it’s far too late.

The clicking sound is quickly followed by a rush of air and a sharp pinch on either side of my neck that has my whole-body stiffening and my eyes widening as a breathless gasp escapes my parted lips.

All at once, I feel long fingers curling around my biceps, a furry body pressing into my back, and a cold feeling trickling my neck. The image of Darren is quick to enter my mind as the warm breath of Fenrir washes over my nape, and for a moment, I envision my head being ripped off just as viciously as he was decapitated. Yet before this fear can take me, an alarming and sharp sensation travels through my body and turns my once shivering flesh cold. Prickles of cutis anserine erupt upon across my flesh as a heavy numbness begins to thread through my veins like lead being mixed with water.

The realisation of what is going on is instantly recognisable. I can all but feel the venom being injected through the fangs piercing my flesh, and immediately understand that as I am being held within subject S3R-G6L surprisingly tender grip, that he is administering a neuromuscular poison into my veins.

All my muscles go limp in a matter of milliseconds, and I collapse like a marionet being cut from his strings. Yet my paralysed body doesn’t find the floor as gravity so greedily calls it. With my head hanging limply and my arms swaying lifelessly, I’m gently laid upon the ground as if I were being handled by a sensitive lover, and as my head flops to the side, my hampered breathes hitches as I’m greeted to the sight of Fenrir grinning down at me.

Leering with a greedy, almost possessive smirk, the intense feeling of fear filling my chest is only matched by the overwhelming sense of accomplishment clearly shown through the sergal’s features. He appears like a prideful cat having laid out a dead bird before his owner, or a companion who just aided his partner in committing the cheekiest of pranks. I would die from fear in this very moment if not for the neurotoxins preventing my demise.

Seeing Fenrir’s bloodstained face hovering over me, his horrifying visage eclipsed by the florescent lights and framed with a devious grin, a primordial sense of dread fills my veins, swirls through my mind like a psychoactive drug, and fills me with a prey like instinct I thought humans had long since forgotten.

Subject S3R-G6L raises himself till he is stands on his hind legs and appraises me as a hunter would his latest haul. I can only watch in horror as he licks along his lips, lapping not just the saliva dripping from them, nor the blood he received while giving me his venomous kiss, but the remnants of Darren’s brain fluids still staining his snout.

I’m paralysed, unable to do more than shift my gaze side to side, yet despite my complete immobilisation, I still retain my sensory reception. Fenrir’s venom was engineered with the intentions of him apprehending targets and returning them unharmed. For this, not only did the scientists of Jikken contrive a most intricate throat and stomach structure, with which the sergal would swallow and transport his target, but subject S3R-G6L would also be able to regurgitate them unharmed. It was certainly one of the company’s more outrageous of ideas, yet unlike most of their outlandish concepts and ingenious designs, Fenrir’s venom was particularly simple in its constitution.

The neurotoxins currently pulsing through my veins and stiffening them like cement is derived mostly from the Bengali Krait. The nerve damaging toxins were excised from the snake venom and were bound with partial strains of copperhead viper hemotoxins to prevent thrombus. The result is that Fenrir’s venom disrupts neurotransmission without causing any long-term damage.

The thing the pathologists probably didn’t account for is the amount of fear that being bitten would bring. While my heart may be beating at even intervals and my breathing kept as steady as if I were about to enter a deep sleep cycle, the waves of terror running through me are so much more visceral that my calm pulse would suggest.

With my head flopped to the side and my body laid prone before the towering sergal, I can do nothing but put all my focus into moving my arms, willing any and all force I can to regain control of my body. Yet even as my efforts result in a single twitch of my fingers, I know that it’s futile. There is no escape from this. Fenrir has captured me, and after witnessing him brutally murder the other members of the faculty, I surmise that my death will not be any less gruesome.

Grinning in a way that only a shark can smile, subject S3R-G6L traces his eyes across my body as if I were a slab of meat he were appraising at a butchery. I can only hope that he makes my death quick, for the idea of being killed slowly, ripped limb from limb and not even being allowed to scream is even more terrifying than the prospect that my life is about to end.

Before this realisation can properly hit me, Fenrir bends down and raises both of his forepaws towards my chest with claws outstretched. I would whimper if I could, turn my gaze away and scream out in one last defiant cry of agony before he digs his fingers into my chest and rips my body in two, but I am trapped, unable to look away even as I feel his paws make contact.

While I fully anticipate the sensation of fingers digging into my flesh and my ribcage to be broken in half, my breath still hitches when Fenrir only rips my shirt open; Tearing it as if he were a passionate lover undressing me. This shock is extended as the sergal carefully slips my arms free from my bloodstained shirt and pulls it out from beneath me before tossing it to the side.

It’s… What is he doing…? Subject S3R-G6L seems to be acting vastly different from how he treated his previous victims. Could it be the result of cornering me alone? Due to the fact I cannot fight back? Perhaps the lascivious grin spreading across his lips could have something to do with his uncharacteristically considerate motions? I’m not uncertain of what drives the sergal’s efforts to not harm me anymore than his bite did, but it’s a most confounding sensation to have him wrap his paw behind my head and carefully lay me down with my face aimed right up at his malicious smile.

There is something unnerving buried deep within Fenrir’s yellow eyes. While this almost seductive glint and the curling of his arrogant smile is one I’ve come to know whenever our eyes would meet, something about seeing it face to face is terribly different. He’s bearing the type of sly satisfaction that can only come from the consummation between two lovers who have never known another’s touch. It’s foreboding in the most haunting of ways.

My skin tingles as the sergal tauntingly runs his claws across my chest and over my stomach, spawning waves of cutis anserine that make my body feel overly sensitive. This hypersensitivity is likely a result from the neurotoxins immobilising me, that, or the fearful imagery I’m conjuring of subject S3R-G6L sinking his paws into my gut and ripping my intestines out.

Yet instead of pain, I feel only confusion as Fenrir’s claws land upon my belt, dexterously unbuckle it and my pants, before roughly parting my zipper. I feel my face flush with blush, not only at the sensation of the sergal’s nimble movements that are obviously retained from the human genes spliced into his DNA, but at being undressed so passionately by a feral beast who’s done nothing but slaughter everyone around me.

Before I can become too embarrassed where I should be feeling nothing but fear, Fenrir’s paws trace down both my thighs as he curls inwards and sets his sights on my feet. I would be surprised at feeling his fingers wrapping around my shoes and pulling them off had I not already expected it. And despite being immobilised, my body still jerks at the ticklish sensation of both my socks being peeled from my feet in movements just as tender.

My mind races with probabilities as I try to understand why Fenrir is undressing me so carefully. Subject S3R-G6L is removing my clothing so delicately that I almost feel like an expensive gift being unwrapped. It’s such a bizarre experience that I can’t come up with any logical reason to his actions.

My musings are cut short as I feel dexterous fingers grip my waist while claws slip beneath my underwear. My breath hitches and heart palpitates at the wretched sensation of being undressed by my hunter. Yet there is nothing I can do but lay motionless and stare into Fenrir’s greedy eyes as he licks his lips and teasingly pulls down not just my pants, but my briefs as well.

My genitals pop free in a shameful display that reddens my cheeks fully, a sight that Fenrir seems to relish in, for the whole time he’s been undressing me, the sergal’s lascivious gaze has been locked on mine in such a perverted way that being undressed by him is only the second worst part of being exposed.

As soon as my groin bounces from my briefs and my pants are pulled below my hips, subject S3R-G6L licks his lips before pulling the remaining clothing from me in one fluid motion. Being fully exposed has my mind jolt with the urge to cover my private parts, something that only results in bringing an uncomfortable itch that lingers in my immobile arms laying lifelessly by my sides.

As Fenrir covetously observes my naked body, I feel like a rape victim being admired by his attack. And after a shameful moment that lasts for far too long, the sergal moves to hover above me with his paws on either side of my face and eyes bearing a sultry gaze into me so strong that it’s almost as if he were trying to make his intentions known through sight alone; Something that is becoming increasingly clearer as I see something red prodding from beneath his stomach.

It’s… No… Fenrir can’t possible be planning on doing something… Sexual with me… Right? I mean, the way he looks at me is very similar to that same cocksure smile Darren would don when he was horny, but there is no way subject S3R-G6L would be interested in something like that, right? Especially with someone as small as me. I mean… His reproductive organs are fully developed and functional, and despite there being no plans on using him for breeding, nor for Jikken Industries to even consider cloning female sergals, Fenrir is fully capable of not just becoming aroused, but producing offspring.

My attention snaps back up to Fenrir as a warmth hits my chest. For a moment, the sensation has me convinced that he is sinking his teeth into my flesh, and that what I’m feeling is actually blood spurting from my skin and my life ending, but when I look up and meet his gleaming yellow gaze, I discover that this warmth is coming from the drool dripping from his parted lips.

Subject S3R-G6L is breathing much heavier than he was a moment ago, his pupils are dilatated, his vision unfocused, and judging by the red flesh I see emerging from the fat lump of flesh nestled between his hind legs, there is no doubt anymore that Fenrir has become aroused.

My skin prickles as the sergal reaches forward and cups my neck and face with both of his paws in a way that only a lover would know how. The warmth of his leathery pads sinking into my flesh and the dangerous feeling of his fingers curling over my skin sends a conflicting thrill through my body. I’m not sure if this sensation is the result from the dopamine produced through fear, or if there is some part of me that has always found Fenrir to be a handsome beast, but having his paws on me and eyes so tenderly baring into mine is causing the terror circulating my veins to clash with the sensual sensation of his touch.

I would squeal if capable, to reel back and kick him for touching me in such an unwelcomed manner, but all I can do is watch in horror as Fenrir leans down and runs his tongue across my face! He laps my skin gently and with languid brushes, licking from the base of my jaw to the top of my forehead on either side of my face before tracing his tongue along my neck and towards my chest!

Subject S3R-G6L’s tongue is similar to that of a salamander’s. It’s thick, pointed at the end, and long enough that he can literally lick the back of his head. It’s also much smoother than a human’s and covered in saliva far more viscous than I had imaged.

Feeling Fenrir lap my chest and trace his warm paws over my body so sensually, I become caught between fear and an unwelcomed delight. The texture of his rubbery tongue is just as foreign a sensation as having a wild animal lick me so passionately, and if this wasn’t already enough to make me feel uncomfortable, then having his paws caress my arms and shoulders, squeezing me as a lover might knead the flesh of their partner to entice them into arousal is such an intolerable sensation that some part of my brain shuts down, unable to understand why Fenrir would ever act this way.

I am not allowed to dwell on these inscrutable thoughts as the warmth of his roaming tongue devours my full attention. Subject S3R-G6L laps my flesh in animalistic delight and soft growls as he continues down my abdomen, bathing me in spit and seemingly savouring in the taste of my perspiration, sweat caused from the fear he brought and the effort I put into trying to escape him.

As his warm breath washes across my navel and causes my skin to twitch at such an unwelcomed feeling, my breath hitches just as quickly as my eyes widen, for without any interval, his swirling tongue laps across my bellybutton, and through my midriff before he shamelessly buries his snout in my pubic hair!

Fenrir’s head is a full metre long from the tip of his snout to the back of his skull and about two feet wide, so alongside the terrifying sensation of having his enormous shark-like muzzle pressed into my most vulnerable of areas, the feeling of being violated by anyone, let alone a monstrous beast cloned and kept in captivity for all his life, is such an unforgiving sensation that the tears streaming down my face are nowhere near enough to fully convey the amount of anguish I’m experiencing.

Josh: “!!!” The first real sound I make since the sergal injected his venom into my body echoes out in a croak-like gasp, it escapes my lips as soon as Fenrir’s tongue brushes across my flaccid length and wraps around my testicles!

Defiled… There is no word more becoming than to say that I feel utterly violated at the sensation of Fenrir’s wet tongue bathing my genitals in warm saliva. I feel vandalised like a building being marked with distasteful graffiti, like a virgin being deflowered by their stalker, or a human being deprived of the most basic of rights. And if being defiled by his ruthless lapping weren’t enough to make me feel more shame than I ever have in my life, then the rousing his slippery tongue brings me is more than enough to make me feel so mortified that I actually become nauseated by my own arousal.

Despite my repulsion, my dick shamefully twitches to life. The combination of my hypersensitive skin and the foreign feeling of his dexterous tongue touching me in ways that no man has ever licked me is too much to bear, and before I can try conjure images that would prevent any more blood from swelling my flesh, my penis becomes fully erect under the sergal’s continued stimulation.

Drenched in Fenrir’s spit that drips down my ribs and pools in my bellybutton, my prick is now similarly wet with subject S3R-G6L’s saliva, twitching in deplorable need, and disgracefully pulsing even as I try to fight the arousal, something that Fenrir has no plans on allowing. He laps my cock with renewed vigour as soon as the first beads of precum spurt from my urethra, and when his tongue begins to slip beneath my balls and over my taint, I fear the prospect of him rimming me, but just as quickly as the sergal’s slippery appendage had slipped between my legs, it pulls back alongside it’s owner who lifts his face from my genitals and returns to hovering over my prone body.

I can see it in his eyes. Fenrir’s pupils are so dilatated that by the vacant expression on his face you would think he’s under the under the effects of an aphrodisiac. The sergal’s dripping tongue hangs from the side of his muzzle as panting like a dog in heat. His warm breath washes over and brushes through my hair, and despite expecting the stench of death to waft from within him, or perhaps even a caustic scent to this meaty odour, I am greeted only to the fleshy smell of wet flesh and the warmth of his body.

As my cock continues to shamelessly twitch in repulsive delight, I watch in stilted horror as Fenrir sets his paws above my head and walks till his stomach is above my face. Sergals have a very similar body shape to that of a canine, their chests are pronounced with elongated ribs, and they have a dip in their midsection which makes them look very streamline, the only difference is that their torsos are a little longer and a more reptilian in structure. But it’s not this part of his anatomy that captures my attention, for as soon as his belly comes into view, so too does his arousal.

While Fenrir was excited before, he is now fully erect, and while I may have read the statistics on his genitals before, purely for scientific curiosity and to do my job more efficiently of course, coming face to face with the sergal’s dripping penis is just as daunting as feeling his jaws wrap around my neck.

Fenrir is a big boy in all regards. He has a plump sheath to protect his penis and two testicles covered in fur just as white as his prepuce, and while his cock may retain the general structure to that of a wolf’s, there are a few key differences.

Fenrir’s penis is a vivid red and tapered at the tip, it cones out into a bulbously fat head before thinning into the shaft, and right before the base where it extends from his fluffy sheath, it expands with two deflated glands on either side. These bulbous orbs are akin to that of a canine’s knot, as they expand when orgasm is achieved and lock him to his partner.

While the general shape of Fenrir’s scarlet red dick is very similar to that of a wolf’s, the texture of his penis is far more akin to that of his rubbery tongue. Another key difference is that the tip of his cock is elongated like that of a lizard’s and doesn’t bear the iconic “V” shape of a canine’s prick, but above all else, the feature that most sets his dick apart from that of a wolf’s are the ridges running beneath it. These bumps overlap one another in a straight line down his shaft, they are thick and fleshy, shaped almost like rose petals, and were designed to strengthen his urethra, aiding in not just bringing more pleasure to both parties, but also in strengthening his ejaculations.

Behind this gargantuan tool that is thirteen-and-a-half inches long and thicker than any beer can, are two pendulous grapefruit sized testicles. Fenrir’s ballsack is covered in a soft white fur that is just as fuzzy as the coat covering his sheath, and just like the enormous prick throbbing before me in all its glory, there is a virile odour more potent than any musk I have ever inhaled wafting from them.

The sergal’s fertility is clearly displayed through not just the smoky, somewhat spicey scent of a beast meant for breeding for hours on end, but through his humungous testicles that are larger than my fists. I haven’t really noticed Fenrir’s scent until this very moment, as I was far too distracted by the smell of blood lingering in his fur, but now that I’m this close to him, all I can taste is the salty smell of his virility and the musky scent of his lust. This heft odour washes over me like a physical wave and hits me so hard, so deeply, that I literally become disorientated by it.

Subject S3R-G6L’s giant penis drips viscous strands of precum from not just the tip of his tapered head, but from the pink lips of his sheath that are stretched painfully against his deflated knot, bulbous glands I read will supposedly expand to a whole six inches when he climaxes. If the overpowering scent of his masculine odour wasn’t already enough to arouse me more than his tongue did, then the vibrant colour of his enormity is. Fenrir’s dick is a salacious shade of scarlet red that pulses powerfully with thick veins beneath his latex-like skin and all but begs for a mate to sheath itself within.

My face that was once flushed becomes a shade of red only comparable to that of the sergal’s humungous penis. I feel my pupils dilate and my gaze becoming distant as the pheromones wafting from his engorged tool seep into my lungs like a noxious gas. His musky scent clings to the inside of my chest like tacky tar and prickles my lungs to the point that they feel itchy. And before I’m able to realise that Fenrir’s smell is starting to affect my thought process, I find myself falling prey to his pheromones completely, desperately craving the taste of his cock leaking juices across my flesh.

As if hearing my mental pleading, subject S3R-G6L bends his hind legs and lowers his enormity towards me in one of the most arousing sights I have ever seen. I’m not sure if it’s just what I’m experiencing in this moment, or if all gay people would appreciate the sight of a two-foot cock lowering towards them in such an erotic way, but I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

Despite being unable to move, it feels as if all the nerves in my body come alive as soon as Fenrir’s monstrous cock presses into my chest. My skin erupts with such strong waves of euphoria that the only thing I could compare it to is how I feel when Darren fingers me and bears down on my prostate. I understand this sensation is a chemical reaction from not just the dopamine brought on through fear and my forced arousal, but by the oversensitivity the neurotoxins of his venom cause. These combined sensations collide in such consuming and sexual way that what little remnants of apprehension I held vanish.

With his throbbing cock pressed into my body and his enormity enshadowing me from above, I am completely defenceless and unable to do anything when Fenrir humps his hips forward. The motion is so strong that he scrapes me along the floor in the process! But just as quickly as he rears his hips back, the sergal curls his torso upwards and wraps his front paws around my shoulders.

With me securely held in place and his giant penis now resting lower on my torso, Fenrir humps forward again, and this time, his leaking tool that’s dribbling copious amounts of sticky precum brushes across my dick in the same motion of his bucking and brings me an unbelievable amount of pleasure, the likes of which I have never known even through penetration.

My body comes alive as if jolts of electricity were shooting through my veins. Every nerve, every neuron, every receptor, they explode in waves of ecstasy so powerful that they compete with every orgasm I’ve had. And when subject S3R-G6L pulls back and his cock brushes across my sensitive skin in preparation for his next thrust, I all but melt into a puddle of pleasure.

With the aid of his viscous juices dripping from my ribs and guiding his passage, Fenrir slides his warmth over my navel, between my ribs, and along my sternum in one fluid motion, frotting me in such a beastly manner that even his sibilant grunts sound tame against such an animalistic act.

As subject S3R-G6L’s pulsating cock squirts precum with each incessant thrust of his hips, my chest quickly becomes painted with the virility of a beast meant for breeding. And with his pride coming so close to my face with each grunt, each hammer of his hips, my lungs that were once consumed by his potent scent soon become drowned with his beguiling odour.

Fenrir’s musk is so potent that my breathing increases for not only the sensations of pleasure his veiny penis brings me, but through a masculine scent so strong that it feels akin to an intoxicating miasma. It soon feels as if there is not enough oxygen filling my every breath as my body starts to tremble, and despite being unable to move, I don’t think I would even try to escape at this point. His heady scent is as addictive as it is overpowering, and before long, even my vision seems to blur.

Grunting like an animal caught in a rut, subject S3R-G6L holds me firmly by my shoulders and rubs his slimy cock across my body in concise movements. His torso is bent like that of a serpent, as with his hips pressed into my groin and his face held above my head, his torso bends like that of a feline stretching. And with how steady his motions are, Fenrir is more than flexible enough to keep this awkward position without losing one iota of rhythm.

Small gasp like moans start to breach my lips, the pleasure the sergal brings me is seemingly strong enough to override any effect his venom holds on my body. I wish I could move. To reach up and wrap my arms around his bicep sized cock and feel every curve, every vein, and every inch of his glorious dick, but I am earthbound, trapped within my own intoxicated thoughts and unable to do anything more than submit to his scent.

Fenrir’s cock is as warm as it is red. The heat pulsating from it sinks into my wet flesh just as deeply as his sticky fluids do, the sensation of which causes my lust addled thoughts to conure images of how delightful it would be to have such a swelteringly hot tool sheathed deep within my rear as he bloats my guts with his virile white seed.

I suddenly capture a moment of cognition when Fenrir growls, the sound of his terrifying voice shocks me out of my stupor long enough to realise what unforgivable thoughts I’ve been conjuring, but just as quickly as this sobering perception reaches me, it is stolen through rough and needy movements. The sergal’s pace increases to the point that holding me still isn’t enough to stop my body from sliding along the ground, and with how much precum Fenrir has been leaking, I find myself gliding across the floor like a cock would slide into a well lubed anal ring.

I’m not sure if it’s the neurotoxins starting to wear off, or perhaps the amplification of pleasure this new speed brings me, but my voice cries out in a whorish moan as Fenrir rubs his cock against mine and sparks in me the most exhilarating sensation I’ve ever felt in my life. My body becomes stiff without actually becoming rigid, and atrophies in tandem with pleasure without actually becoming slack.

Every cell in my body responds to his touch and causes me to writhe within my own paralysed form; Unable to properly express the immense pleasure I’m receiving. It’s a feeling akin to edging while using a sounding device. I feel like I’m constantly on the precipice of ejaculating with my dick physically not being capable of discharging the sperm. It’s as maddening a sensation as it is a pleasurable one.

It feels as if my mind breaks. The combination of Fenrir’s movements, the oversensitivity of my skin, the inability to react, the intense scent of his inebriating pheromones, and the overwhelming waves of pleasure washing across my skin, it all becomes too much for my addled brain to grasp. Time lapses and there is a moment where I feel like my heart stops, my lungs stall, and all sound leaves me, but as soon as reality comes crashing back in a sensation that feels as if I were thrown to the ground by a wrestler, a sharp gasp for breath burns my lungs and my body starts to spasm.

I twitch, convulse, and stiffen in such an uncontrolled manner that it feels as if I were having a seizure. Everything goes white and I literally become blinded as the most intense orgasm of my life erupts through me like a lightning bolt that both feeds and steals life from me! My dick violently shoots out wave after wave of sperm, adding to the pooling liquids filling my drenched body and sending jolts of pleasure across my skin in such painful thrashes that it feels as if I am being flagellated.

As quickly as my mind-numbing climax hits, it diminishes just as agonisingly slow as the sperm trickling from my spent cock. My penis is still painfully hard and trying to push out cum I no longer hold, yet despite having nothing left to give, each pulsating twitch brings me extended waves of pleasure that wash across my flesh in the form of cutis anserine that evolves into a numbing paraesthesia I could easily mistake for actual pins and needles stabbing me.

My body rocks back and forth in frantic motions unbecoming of my exhausted state. Fenrir’s pace has only increased since my ejaculation, and judging from how much fatter his cock has swollen and the constant stream of precum spurting from his tip, I can only surmise that he too is about to erupt. And with his urethra pointed right at my face, even in the afterglow that makes me feel completely mindless, I fully understand the predicament I find myself in.

Fenrir goes into overdrive. His grapefruit sized nuts slam heavily into my thighs and his swelling knot brushes against my spent dick in such a painful way that I start to whimper. I’m not sure if it’s his pheromones neutralising the effects of my paralysis, or if perhaps my ejaculation is returning life to me, but I find that I can curl my fingers and even move my head slightly! I’m not certain if time did indeed lapse during my throes of pleasure and that I’ve been lying here long enough for his venom to start wearing off, but I’m thankful that life is returning to me now, for as Fenrir’s enormous cock swells and his pulsing knot inflames to its full girth, I need all the aid I can in fighting off his oncoming eruption.

With a roar I can only compare to that of the tyrannosaurus, Fenrir’s grip around my shoulders tightens, his hips violently ram forward, and his enormous penis swells with so much blood that it feels as if his dick is starting to sear my skin! Subject S3R-G6L explodes in such an intense orgasm that it puts my mind-altering ejaculation to utter shame!

I splutter, hit with a blast of cum so hard that it feels as if someone were hosing me down with a pressure washer! An incalculable amount of sperm is discharged from Fenrir’s cock so violently that it hits my chin and throws my head back into the floor! He spasm’s again, and even though I’m prepared for the force I fear may have given me a concussion, the amount of jizz ejaculated from his pulsating prick is far too substantial to contend with. I gasp breathlessly between the ropes of viscous cum washing over me and fight to not drown on the scalding hot sperm as it covers every inch of my being!

Fenrir roars like a true monster as his grip on me becomes so powerful that I fear he may actually break my bones! And with how insanely his cock is throbbing and unleashing his seed, I fear no amount of squirming can save me from suffocating on his baby batter. My world becomes a blur of copious amounts of viscous semen and ruffled white fur. One moment I’m inhaling musky air so salty that it could content with the ocean, and in the next I find myself ingesting cum so sticky that it could put even honey to shame.

Fenrir’s spunk tastes akin to the masculine odour wafting from his genitals. It’s smoky like charred meat, but spicy like nutmeg. I’m not certain if the sergal’s intentions are to drown me in his semen, but I’m forced swallow each scaldering hot spurt that fills my mouth. It’s salty like the taste of perspiration, but sweet in the most virile of ways, and no matter which way I thrash my head, there is no way to escape subject S3R-G6L’s intense orgasm.

I’m not sure how long I fight in the throes of my dwindling pleasure and the unceasing waves of sperm shooting from his urethra like a firehose, but the insurmountable stream of cum finally starts to abate, and with it, so too does air return to me. I hack so frightfully that it sounds as if I have pneumonia, and with how much sperm accompanies each wheezing cough, I’m truly surprised that I hadn’t drowned on Fenrir’s spunk.

The beast in question remains motionless. His grip on my shoulders is no longer bone breaking, and his hips that sought to imitate the sensation of knotting no longer press into me so roughly. He is breathing heavily, not concerned in any way for the wretched sounds I’m making as his throbbing cock continues to lazily push out spurts of cum, prolonging the pleasure that seems to blind him just as heavily as it once did me.

I am absolutely drenched in semen. My sinuses and ears are blocked completely with viscous cum, my hair congealed to my skull with so much jizz that it feels as if I dunked my head into a pot of honey, and even as I wheeze and gasp for breath, I feel the long tendrils joining my lips together ripple like uncured glue. From my hips upwards, there is not a single inch of my body that isn’t covered with baby batter, the only clean spots I can make out are the tops of my legs, as for with how much sperm is coagulating round me, I’m literally laying in a pool of cum.

I’m not sure how long we remain like this, but I finally catch my breath enough to realise that I’m able to move my arms, and despite how addled my mind feels from the lingering effects of his pheromones that threatens to reawaken my arousal, or how languid my movements are, I try to push myself from beneath the beast. With my palms squelching into the congealing cum, I press against the floor and try to pull myself free from his throbbing cock, but my activity immediately snaps Fenrir from his ongoing orgasm, and before I can try rolling away, the paws grabbing my shoulders tighten, slip beneath my armpits, and slowly raise me from the ground in the same motion that the sergal gets into an upright position and brings me towards his face.

As expected from his haggard breathes, Fenrir is still caught in the throes of pleasure. His slitted eyes are unfocused and accompanied by an expression that almost looks goofy, I can’t help but think that the sergal would look cute if not for the threat I understand myself to still very much be in.

With both his paws under my armpits, subject S3R-G6L suspends me above the ground in a similar fashion as one might hold an unruly cat, and considering our size difference, that would be an adequate comparison.

Despite him having prevented my futile escape, I still wriggle. I’ve hardly regained much strength, and while my feet barely flicker in defiance and keeping my head raised is so difficult that it makes me feel like a weak infant, I refuse to give in to whatever wicked fate he has planned for me. But it would seem that the sergal is wholly unconcerned with my efforts, for he takes a few moments longer to capture his breath before returning his focus upon me.

Fenrir’s gaze awakens like to a torch illuminating a dark room, as if he only now realises that he’s holding me; It’s like he’s just awoken from the deepest of sleeps. This recognition sparks like flames in the dark, for as soon as our eyes meet and his dilated pupils focus, that same arrogant smirk I’ve come to know from him reappears. He looks so satisfied with himself, so accomplished, that I start to feel like someone he’s been preying on for months, someone that he has finally been able to lure into his bed and take full advantage of. I start to feel like a slut, and not just because I’m drenched in his cum, but because there were moments in his pleasure that I was actually enjoying myself…

Josh: “Y-you b-bastard…” I’m barely able to stutter this out. My voice is coarse and unrecognisable as my own for more than just my broken tone. Despite my defiant breath, my haggard voice only causes that depraved grin on his face to widen, Fenrir looks at me in such a demeaning way that even words could not express how demoralising his piercing gaze makes me feel.

I’ve been dominated by him completely, abused to the point that I could call it rape, and broken so utterly that even now, my despondence cannot possibly measure against the defeat filling my chest. Is this what Fenrir wanted for all these years? Has he been plotting to degrade me to the point that I feel worthless? Because that’s exactly how I feel right now… I’m not sure why he appears so appeased, so chuffed with himself, but despite the shame filling my chest to the point I feel hollow, I refuse to give in while I’m still able to fight.

Renewing my fight in complete defiance of the arrogant smirk playing upon the sergals lips, I try to break free from his surprisingly loose grip, but even if I had my full strength, it would not have been enough. Tears quickly begin to spill from my eyes and I hiccup on my breathes as my anger turns into desperation.

Josh: “P-please… L-let me go! I d-don’t want to die!” I scream in a broken cry, trying to express to him just how anguished I feel in this moment, and despite my pleading, my earnest attempt at begging does nothing to dissuade the cocky smirk of the sergal, if anything, it only amplifies it.

Josh: “W-why are you doing this! J-just get it over with already! Stop torturing me!” Despite wanting nothing more than to be released and allowed to live, being kept in the lurch of his sadistic smirk is far worse a feeling than dying. The uncertainty of what might happen next has my heartrate spiking and my legs feel so cold that for a moment I think I’m pissing myself.

Fenrir only smirks wider, showing off his twelve canine-like teeth before nudging me with his snout in the same way a playful dog would, almost as if he were trying to get more of a rise out of me; Something he easily achieves. I weakly push against his invasive muzzle, staining Fenrir’s facefur with jizz as my quivering arms crumple beneath his incessant nudging. Subject S3R-G6L sniffs me as if trying to find my scent hidden beneath his overpowering musk, and if to make my degradation that much worse, he takes an idle lick of my cum-stained chest before pulling away and smiling like a true villain.

Josh: “P-please, Fenrir, please just let me go! I-I’ll do anything!” I’m uncertain if he understands my pleading words, or if perhaps it’s hearing me use the name I’ve given him, but the sergal tilts his head to the side like a confused dog.

Josh: “P-please, Fenrir… Please let me go…” I reach out with ambivalence and cup his snout, putting every ounce of my desperation into my quivering voice and purveying just how much I want to live through my forlorn gaze, and to my surprise, I actually see the glint in the sergal’s fierce yellow eyes soften, almost as if he were coming out of a lust addled haze. He looks at me longingly, as if I were his long last love and he had just committed something inconceivable.

Josh: “Th-that’s it, you can trust me, just let me g–” My words cut short, for as I’m looking deeply into his tender gaze, a sudden bought of light erupts from them! My arms go slack, my jaw limp, my eyes vacant, and I become completely entrapped within Fenrir’s gleaming eyes! Waves of colour ripple from his irises to the edges of his sclera, and that once loving gleam he cast upon me all but vanishes, replaced by a will so terrible, a force so indomitable, I become just as paralysed within his gaze as his venom once held me.

My mind wipes clean and I become hypnotised by the iridescent light as if I were a moth drawn to a flame. I can’t move, I can’t think, all I can understand is that the rainbow of colours swirling in his eyes is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Within this ripple of light, this luring kaleidoscope, I hear whispers coming from nowhere and everywhere at once, speaking incomprehensible words that I feel more than understand. They tell me of pleasure, of purpose, of need, and of desire. They promise things I never knew I wanted, and amidst the beguiling prism of colours, I find myself agreeing with them.

Josh: “Y-yes… I want that too…” The bewitching lights capture every thought in my brain like loving hand embracing me, latching onto every nerve in my body, and enamouring me so deeply within their hold that it feels as if I were to look away, that my life would come to an abrupt end.

These captivating whispers become louder within the recesses of my mind, more discernible and more enthralling. They’re spoken like a husky breath against my ear, like the warmth of a strong man holding me, and like the kiss of a lover who wants nothing more than to show me his deepest of affections.

Josh: “P-please…” I nod in affirmation, wanting every comfort they promise me, desiring the purpose they so freely offer, and needing the submittance so desperately, so hopelessly, that my every other want becomes obsolete.

The rainbow of colours expands like a wave of swirling light washing not only over me, but filling every crevasse within me. This kaleidoscope latches on like strong hands enticing me to give in completely; Something I do without a moments pause. I surrender all of who I am to the prism of spiralling colours, allowing myself to satisfy the deepest of all hungers, the most primordial of all wants, and the core of all pleasures.

Fenrir grins and opens his mouth as wide as possible. His pink flesh is ladled with viscous saliva and filled with a warm and welcoming scent that invites me inside. My arms stretch forward needily and press into his salamander-like tongue with a desperate need for contact. Every rib lining his pallet, every round papilla filling his tongue, every intricate fold of flesh leading to the back of his squelching throat, I need to feel it deeper. It’s more precious to me than air, than the iridescent light reflected in my eye, more valuable than life itself.

Pulling me closer to his face, I gratefully slide my cum-soaked arms across Fenrir’s rubbery tongue and moan in delight at the sensation of his warm flesh and pungent breath. He draws me towards his maw enough for me to willingly slip my head inside, and as I do, I rapaciously lay my face upon his succulent tongue and nuzzle it, absorbing the sultry sensation of every promise he offered me within his warm flesh.

Once I am laid within his gaping maw, the sergal presses his face forward, and in the same motion, I feel as my hands slip into the warm folds of his wet throat. Looking up, I moan whorishly as I see how effortlessly they have disappeared into his encompassing oesophagus, and as I wriggle my fingers, I relish in the sensation of being surrounded by so much warmth, so much power, and so much comfort. It’s everything he said it would be and more.

Whimpering as I try to shove my arms even deeper, Fenrir aids me by raising my torso till he’s holding me horizontally in the air and allowing me to more comfortably press my face into his squishy tongue. I kiss the pink flesh as my chest slides into his mouth and mewl in the insurmountable pleasure welling within my chest as my arms sink all the way up to my elbows in his warm flesh.

The delight swelling in me is so overwhelming that it feels as if this desire is about to burst and spill out across his tongue. I feel so utterly imbued with fulfilment that I cannot attain completion fast enough. Yet despite the frantic need to rush the process, I obediently listen to the voices within my head and lay patiently within his hold, allowing Fenrir to guide my passage as only he knows how to. I trust him with all of who I am and gladly give the sergal everything I can offer to satisfy his deepest of needs.

Distant whispers echo in my thoughts alongside his sultry voice, luring me with afterimages of the kaleidoscope reflected in my eyes. They speak of pleasures that only the sergal knows how to give, of desire that only he knows how to permit, and fulfilment that only I know how to supply.

Josh: “P-please, Fenrir… Please eat me…” A rumble reverberates within his throat, calling like a siren luring me to the depths of the ocean. It escapes from his meaty oesophagus in a waft of air that washes over my face, filling my lungs with the pungent odour of his fleshy desire, with his musky scent and with the undeniable promise of satisfaction. I nuzzle Fenrir’s tongue and moan in delight as he ever so slowly insets my head into his throat and steals all light from me.

I gasp in excitement at feeling the thick folds of wet flesh encircling my head, at the unfathomable pleasure these powerful muscles offer as I sink into his gullet until my shoulders press against my ears and my armpits come to a rest in the wet opening of his oesophagus. My decent is regretfully halted far too soon, but I know that Fenrir will not disappoint me, for his voice in my head is as certain as the darkness besieging me, his as passion freely felt as the flesh squelching around me, and his assurance as palpable as the viscous saliva guiding me into the depths of his body.

Fenrir’s throat contracts as if tasting my cum-stained flesh, these circular rings of muscle tighten around my head and kiss me with the type of loving violence that only a rough lover can deliver. I moan into his gullet once this hold relents and allows me to breathe, my voice further pitching into the darkness as the sergal’s rubbery tongue wriggles against my chest.

Fenrir holds me here for a moment longer while his throat conforms to the shape of my body, and just as he had promised, I feel every muscle in his body work in tandem. His oesophagus expands and I’m gifted with the briefest amount of light from behind my shoulders, it illuminates the long tunnel of flesh before me. Fenrir’s throat is lined with rings of thick muscle, the pink tissue is drenched with mucus and saliva, calling to me just as loudly as the rumble coming from deep within. My hands stretch forward, cutting through the tendrils of spit lining the tunnel, and just as quickly as light was shone upon the flesh pulling me in, so too does it vanish as my shoulders slip into his gullet.

Through the cum filling my ears and the mucus covering my face, I hear not just the squelching of the powerful muscles as they gulp and pull me deeper into his body, but the rhythmic sound of Fenrir’s heart greats me just as beguilingly as his voice does. It thumps with a melody that only my body can understand, desire in its pulse just as greedy as the gullet ingesting me.

My decent once more comes to an abrupt halt as my rounded as cheeks press against the opening of Fenrir’s throat. He holds me here with my erect dick pressed sensuously within his flesh while his throat continues to squeeze every inch of my half-ingested form. It’s so tight within the confines of his gullet that my breathing has become restricted, so narrow that I fear I may not properly fit, and so powerful that I’m fearful Fenrir’s strength may yet take me before I’m able to find my prize at the end of this squelching tunnel.

The voices in my head wash over my thoughts once again, assuring me that I will find my desire, that I will fulfil his need, and that we both shall relish in the most primordial of pleasures. I submit to Fenrir’s will once more and settle my squirming, giving in to his bodily instincts and willingly allow the sergal to swallow me whole so that I can finally become one with him.

Another powerful gulp sucks in more of my prone body, all the way up to my knees this time, and with only my legs sticking out of Fenrir’s mouth, I feel my hands pressing into an unsurpassable ring of flesh. They curl and prod at the muscle in surprise, demanding that it to stop preventing me from achieving my ultimate goal, and almost as if hearing my plea, the cardiac sphincter parts like a pair of thick lips and eagerly sucks up my hands.

I moan in delight at how hungrily I are pulled in, the powerful ring of flesh slurps me all the way up to my elbows before pausing its consumption. And once more, that husky whisper tickles my neck, itching the inside of my head as its beguiling words intermingle with the iridescent light shimmering in my eyes. This voice applauds me, speaking encouraging words that tell me of how worthy I am, of how much purpose I hold within his body. I snuggle into Fenrir’s constricting flesh, pressing my nose into the squelching walls lined with mucus and sperm so that I can reciprocate such tender affections.

Upon my consent of his deepest longing, Fenrir raises his head towards the ceiling and parts his jaws as wide as they will stretch, and with one powerful gulp, he pulls my feet into the intricate folds of flesh lining his throat and steals me from the world forever, once and for all assuring his promise will be kept.

In the same motion of Fenrir craning his neck and swallowing down the last sections of my body, so too does the stomach sphincter welcome me. The powerful muscle sucks me all the way up to my armpits and holds me there, constricting my breath as the sergal relishes in the delight of my ingestion.

With my biceps pressed against either of my ears, my world becomes somewhat muffled, but with the motions of my consumption, my head has finally popped into Fenrir’s stomach, and with my release from his squelching throat, I am surprised to find that the darkness that once took me has now been replaced by a dim luminescent glow. It bathes my face in warm, fleshy light and surrounds me with a meaty scent just as captivating as his voice.

The inside of Fenrir’s gut is roomier than I had imaged. It’s about three-by-two feet wide and absolutely drenched in the same viscous liquids that aided in my decent. As my hands press into the wriggly rugae lining the walls of his meaty sack, my fingers start tracing between their folds and find that the warmth in here even more enticing than the flesh of his throat.

All around me, the ravenous organ glows with the type of soft lighting you’d use to seduce a lover. Its bright enough that I can distinguish shadow from flesh, but still dim to the point that my pupils don’t contact. I wallow in the warmth of what not just this light brings me, but the fleshy odour of Fenrir’s gut. It’s tinged with a more caustic smell than that of his throat, but no less musky.

Amidst my luxuriating of his flesh and my inhaling of his gastric fumes, Fenrir keeps his neck craned and head pointed to the ceiling, and with the aid of gravity, gulps deeply. His powerful muscles contract around my body in tandem, pushing the air from my lungs and then me form the cardiac sphincter. I moan in unbridled pleasure as I am squeezed further into his stomach, my arms curling forward and my head being smooshed into the drenched walls.

Fenrir ingests me all the way up to my naval without much effort. Only my supply bottom now prevents me from completion, and as I remain suspended in delight and half curled forward into the ruby flesh of the sergal’s gut, those same bewitching whispers tickle my brain. Their grip on my mental faculties has been lessening since my decent, but the surety they promise, the guarantee they bring, this feeling of commitment has not yet dulled in any way, if anything, the deeper I am pulled within his body, the stronger it becomes.

With one last whisper that feels like a kiss pressed against my neck, Fenrir swallows more powerfully than ever before; Every muscle in his magnificent body working in tandem to bring me to my final resting place. The rings of flesh lining his throat contract alongside the cardiac sphincter and my ass is pushed through the ring of flesh in the same motion that my body curls inward. I am spat out into Fenrir’s stomach and forced into a foetal position, and all at once, I am surrounded by supple, drenched, and luminous flesh.

There is a pause, one where I feel the radiance gleaming in my eyes falter and the beguiling hold Fenrir has over me weaken, but just as quicky as it arrives, so too does it vanish, for replacing this apprehension, this moment of fearful cognition, is a feeling of strong accomplishment and untainted achievement. It fills me so completely, so wholly, that I can’t stop my body from tensing at the sensation of being swallowed alive.

I cum hard and without warning! While the slimy walls of his throat have been caressing not just my penis but my oversensitive flesh throughout every moment of my ingestion, it’s the sensation of being spat out into his stomach that has me ejaculating without restraint. It’s by far the most intimate, and the most sensual of feelings that I have and will ever feel in my life.

I moan loudly, my body spasming as shot after shot of cum erupts from my cock and spills all over my stomach, intermingling with the copious amounts of fluids that I’m already drenched in. The smell inside his belly, the sensation of his soft flesh touching every inch of my naked form, the completion of achieving the only thing that matters, it fires off every nerve, every neuron, and awakens my brain as if jolts of electricity were shooting through every receptor.

Ecstasy takes me and sends thrills across my skin, amplifying the already overwhelming sensations his fleshy embrace gives. I moan loudly into the swaying chamber and my call of pleasure is echoed by his voracious gut. Fenrir’s stomach rumbles in just as much delight as me, vibrating every bone in my body and sending my pleasure to newer hights.

My climax reaches its crescendo, and as soon as I hit the pinnacle of delight, so too does fatigue grip me. It consumes all the last vestiges of my energy as if I were a sponge being drained of all liquid. My spasming dick starts to abate its frantic efforts as my mind washes over with white euphoria, melting me into pure ecstasy, and with each softening pulse of my pounding heart, my efforts throughout the day are quick to catch up to me.

I’ve been running for so long, subjected to so many different emotions, and now that I have fulfilled his every last wish, I feel myself giving in to the exhaustion. I’ve run for long enough, the fading whispers in my head tell me this and so much more. As his malleable flesh wraps and conforms to the shape of my body as if I were always meant to fill it, Fenrir speaks of rest, he shows me with praise for feeding a hunger that only I could fill. He tells me to sleep and to allow him to keep me safe, to complete his promise of uniting us as one.

I close my hazy eyes and submit to the warmth of his flesh while sinking into the viscous acids in his gut. Inhaling a deep breath, the meaty odour surrounding me further intoxicates my addled mind and aids in lulling me into a sense of complacency. I give in wholly, nuzzling into the squelching walls and focusing on the gentle swaying of my chamber suspended above the ground.

Fenrir is back on all fours. His belly is oscillating as he struts around with all the pride of a well-fed predator. I smile softly to myself and cuddle closer into his flesh as I imagine the smug and arrogant grin he must be wearing. I allow my exhaustion to guide the way, for the fading whispers in my head to pull me into the darkness, permitting all that I am to be offered freely. Fenrir tells me that I only need to give in, that all I need to do is to submit to him and we will become one. And as the last vestiges of my consciousness fade into his squelching flesh, I know that I will remain with him forever…

?

Fluttering, my eyes struggle to open. They are congealed with a snot-like substance that makes me recall this one time I had pink eye. Using my fingers, I scoop the glutinous goop from my eye sockets, yet despite removing most of it, when my eyes do finally open, I find that my vision is blurry, strained, and captured in a dim light I’m struggling to make sense of.

Josh: “Wh-where…” My voice is harsh, hoarse as if I had spent the night drinking in a bar or screaming alongside a metal song at the top of my lungs. I try to clear it, but as I do, I notice a very musky, acrid-like taste clogging my oesophagus, and swallowing the gunk down, I find my throat to be very raw.

Confusion further takes me when I find myself unable to move properly. I’m surrounded by a squishy, rubber-like substance that expands with my efforts, springing back into place with a force I struggle to compete with. It’s strong like soft latex, but malleable and stretchy like an elastic band. It reminds me of a trampoline as it continuously forces me back into a foetal position.

The organic tissue encapsulating me is drenched in a musky, slightly caustic liquid that is just as viscous as it is pungent. It’s translucent and covers every inch of not just my naked body, but every fold of the bioluminescent tissue surrounding me. This elastic chamber glows in a dim red light and reveals pulsing worm like lines beneath its surface. These wriggly strings are as thick as fingers and sort of remind me of veins, especially when they throb.

My confusion continues to grow as I realise the prison I’m held within is oscillating. It sways gently as if caught in the lurch of heavy footfalls. It’s in this moment that I also become very aware of the heat surrounding me. Alongside the slightly noxious gases filling this organ-like chamber is a heat that reminds me of a sauna. It titters on the edges of being uncomfortable, and is warm enough to make breathing a little more difficult.

Josh: “!!!” I gasp in surprise as a cool waft of air suddenly washes into the chamber like a gust of wind blowing in from a window, yet before I can locate where it came from, the oscillation of my prison halts and staggers as the weightless feeling that made me feel as if I were suspended in a hammock is abruptly replaced with a soft and padded surface that causes my body to swirl within the squelching chamber until I come to a rest on my back.

As I lay motionless in the squelching prison, flabbergasted as to where I am and trying my best to recall my last lucid memory, I notice that the walls around me are starting to move. They begin to undulate in a ripple-like motions. The movements remind me of this massage chair I once sat in, but are much more subtle and far more controlled. And as I focus on these rolling motions of this flesh-like substance, I start to realise that my skin is very itchy.

Brushing my fingers across my bicep, I seethe through my teeth as pain instantly greets me! Waves of paraesthesia assault me as if I were being stabbed by literal pins and needles! I pull back immediately, but the motion of moving only seeks to amplify this pain. Every brush I make against the wet walls, every movement within this organic-like tissue brings me unbearable pain.

Josh: “Wh-what the fuck is going o–” Before I’m able to finish cussing, reality hits me like a ton of bricks. My memories return to me like a film being played in fast-forward. Arriving at the lab, subject S3R-G6L escaping his habitat, my colleagues being slaughtered, Fenrir hunting me down, watching him kill Darren, being captured by the sergal, used for his sexual release, and then…

I whimper as I press my limbs out in all directions, fully understanding that this malleable substance is the inside of Fenrir’s stomach, that this prickling pain penetrating my skin is the effects of his stomach enzymes breaking me down! Tears fill my eyes instantly, pouring down my cheeks and burning my flesh as if they were acid, and despite the agony I receive from fighting the hold of his powerful gut, I press with all my strength against his incessant flesh!

Josh: “ HELP! ” A loud grumble echoes throughout my fleshy prison like the roar of a ferocious animal and drowns out my voice! It resonates across the undulating flesh and vibrates through every bone in my body like an earthquake. This thunderous sound forces another whimper from my lips, and as the encompassing rumble starts to dissipate, I feel that Fenrir’s belly begins to pick up the pace, peristalsis setting in fully as his stomach prepares to digest me as if I were nothing more than a piece of meat.

I scream out in terror as I fully awaken from my stupor, fear striking me just as deeply as the acids that seep into my raw flesh. Every thrash, every kick, every failed punch, it brings me nothing but agony! But my body is acting out on its own accord as a desperate need to survive fills my every yell for help. The panic of realising that I’m being digested alive, broken down into proteins, fats, and carbohydrates by the enzymes drenching my skin fills me with so much terror that I start to hyperventilate and become disorientated.

My fright-filled efforts are cut short as a resounding eructation steals all the air from my chamber and forces me into a tighter ball! My panic rises instantly as the walls brush across my skin more forcefully than before and constrict me into an even tighter foetal position, scraping my epidermis from me so violently that my skin starts to bleed!

My hyperventilating breathes become tainted by his gastric juices as his stomach continues its incessant peristalsis. I heave between spiting them out and accidently swallowing wads of this viscous liquid that burns my throat like pure lemon juice and tastes just as fleshy as the chamber constricting me.

I fear I’m about to pass out when dizziness takes me and my lungs begin to clap against one another as asphyxiation sets in, but just before darkness can cover the spots filling my vision, a cold waft of air brushes across my skin like razor blades steeped in a winter’s chill. My trembling body instantly stiffens as I inhale a large breath, relishing in the focus that oxygen brings.

It’s as I’m wheezing and trying to regain my bearings that I realise Fenrir must have swallowed air so that I don’t asphyxiate. This revelation renews my panic fiercely, for not only does the sergal realise that I’m still very much alive, but this reveals that his intentions are to keep me this way for as long as possible!

Josh: “N-n-no…” I whimper in such a broken way that I barely even recognise my own voice. I squirm in defiance of such a fate, but the pain my movements bring cause my trembling body to stall. Subject S3R-G6L’s stomach is doing a good enough job of bringing me pain with how active it’s become, and fighting against it only seems to aid in peeling more of my epidermis from me.

It’s… No… This can’t be happening! Hearing his body squelch and churn as the powerful muscles of his gut ripple and undulate, beginning the process of breaking me down into manageable pieces before turning me into chyme that will be assimilated and absorbed as nothing more than fuel for his body… This frightful thought strikes true fear through me to the point that my thoughts begin to spiral out of control and I fall into complete delirium.

Amidst my whimpering and terror induced panic attack, I am suddenly hit with the image of Darren. He is smiling at me, ruffling my hair as he tells me some corny joke he considers funny. I don’t know why this memory of him surfaces in my mind, perhaps it’s some type of defence mechanism against my own fear? But as soon as the image of him greets me, so too does my panic abate. My thoughts calm like waves settling on an ocean, subside like the winds of a storm dying down, and with the calming of my mind, I find my tense muscles relaxing as a reserved type of serenity washes over me.

As Fenrir’s stomach continues to gurgle, ocellate, and grind into me with increased force, I shut my eyes and try to focus on the imagery of the one person I’ve been able to call my friend. And despite my regrets for never having told him how I truly feel, I latch onto the image of the stupid smile he wore while laughing, the sultry eyes he bore when he led me to the supply closet, and the earnestness in his words whenever I was unsure of myself.

I slide about like a hard candy being swished around a toothless maw, my arms and legs being pulled away from my body in the motions of peristalsis, kneaded like a tough piece of dough being prepared for the oven. Yet I do not fight, I instead endure this overwhelming pain prickling my skin and burning me alive with powerful stomach acids. I grit my teeth and seethe through the agony, unwilling to give into the thoughts Fenrir had once planted in my head through hypnotic suggestion.

As far as I recall from his biological makeup, subject S3R-G6L’s stomach and digestive system is similar to that of a crocodile’s. While his throat construction was modelled after that of an avian, mostly so that he could regurgitated anyone he captured, his gut had been formulated to secrete some of the strongest digestive enzymes in the animal kingdom. He is also in complete control of this process, being able to initiate digestion or restrict it at will, which in turn only makes my dissolution all the more distressing…

Opening my eyes as his stomach continues to grumble and squelch, I am bathed in the dim red light illuminating his flesh. Watching the rugae folds of skin undulate and ripple as they brush across my face, I start to feel oddly numb to not just the pain, but the process of my assimilation. There is no way for me to escape this. Subject S3R-G6L’s body is far too powerful to fight, and even if I somehow find his cardiac sphincter, crawl my way back up his oesophagus, and then slip between his lips, what will that really accomplish? I’ll just be forced to endure the ordeal of being ingested all over again…

As my body is pushed around by the peristalsis of Fenrir’s aggressive stomach, it clenches and undulates while washing gastric acid over me, enzymes that causes my skin to sizzle and dissolve into the squelching fluids. Staring blankly into the glowing flesh, I mindlessly listen to the borborygmus of his churning gut as numb feeling blooms in my chest. The pain I experience soon starts to deaden and I can only surmise that my epidermis has been eroded from my body and that now my exposed nerves are being dissolved by his gastric acids.

I won’t question why I haven’t gone into shock yet, as while it was never intended for Fenrir to use his chemistry manipulation for keeping living prey alive through the digestion process, we are far past the point of having any control over him. Subject S3R-G6L is learning about the world in his own way, and from my first-hand experience, I can tell that this learning process will consist of him subjecting anyone he meets to his cruelty and sadism.

As I swish around the gurgling gastric acids eating away at my flesh and melting me into the chyme, I hear the faint sounds outside my chamber. It’s hard to tell if it’s all in my head or not, but I swear I hear an owl hoot. Could Fenrir have escaped? He did seem intent on keeping me alive till he figured out where I was heading… Does this mean the sergal escaped out the access tunnel and into the forest? If this is true, then the world is in for a big surprise.

Was this Jikken’s plan all along? Everything seemed to play out in Fenrir’s favour far too easily. I know headquarters were constantly keeping tabs on us, so unless something happened at their megastructure, then they must have been watching us get slaughtered, right? Were they waiting for subject S3R-G6L to become fed up with our prodding and experimentation to the point that he decided to escape? Perhaps until he developed to the point that our existence became unnecessary? That logic might explain a few key genetic adaptions and biological assets the sergal doesn’t need. Primarily, his ability to reproduce.

Wait… Surely they couldn’t have planned for Fenrir to go out into the world and mate with other species… Right? I mean, from a genetic standpoint, heterospecific mating is completely possible for subject S3R-G6L. I didn’t understand why using such synchronistic genes were considered practical in his construct, even with the excuse of them aiding in proper development, but the idea of Fenrir raping animals large enough to carry his offspring and producing hybridised sergals is…

No. Why would Jikken even risk that? They’d sooner practice this in captivity. There are far too many variables in letting him loose into the wilds. Sure, his chances are far superior than that of any normal animal, but his mere presence puts humans at risk, which in turns puts subject S3R-G6L in danger…

I’m not certain what Jikken Industries are planning, or even if they had a hand in our massacre at all, but the prospect of Fenrir bringing more of his kind into the world is enough for me to feel a sense of gratitude that I won’t be alive to witness the chaos that kind of situation would bring.

Fenrir’s stomach has become more active throughout my musings, following a pattern I’m now able to discern. It rumbles like thunder before he expels all the air through an eructation. This lack of space and closer proximity causes me to thrash, writhe, and gasp as his powerful organ really grinds into me. And after being subjected to this torturous and violent peristalsis for a period of time, one where he seemingly understands the threshold of pain I’m capable of enduring, Fenrir gifts me with breath by swallowing air into his gut and steals me from the merciful darkness right before asphyxiation can end my suffering.

He’s enjoying this… I know it. Fenrir is laying somewhere out in the forest and keeping close tabs on my condition like a bed nurse waiting for me to die. He’s releasing different types of chemicals into his stomach, most of which are obviously meant to aid in my digestion, but from how I’m still alive at this point of maceration, I have no doubt that he’s secreting some type of anaesthetic, norepinephrine, and dopamine substitutions, because from how emaciated I’m starting to look, there is no way that I’m not under some chemical influence.

Time has passed in a tortuous rhythm where one moment I’m being crushed into a foetal position so forcefully that I hear my bones creak, and then other moments where I’m left to stew in the enzymes churning me into sludge. Time mercilessly elapses like this for a gruelling amount of time, enough for me to pray for death, to regret ever applying at Jikken Industries, and so much so that I’m starting to lose my sense of time and cognition.

Not only has all the skin been eroded from my body and melted down into chyme, but I’m falling apart like a poorly constructed building. I have been broken down to yellowing bones and tethering tendons, tearing muscles and dissolving cartilage, and with how I’m being depraved of losing consciousness, I have a clear view of everything happening to my body. It would seem that Fenrir wants me to watch as I melt into sludge, he is sadistically forcing me to observe as my body is absorbed by someone I had once taken care of…

My ribs are poking through the ribbons of torn muscle on my chest at this point, and my hands have dissolved so fiercely that my fingers are starting to break off. My left arm was ripped from my elbow by the peristalsis a moment ago, it’s now squelching through the muck churning around me, pressing into my body and adding insult to injury by impaling my soft tissue with my own ulna.

Much like the rest of my now grotesque appearance, my genitals were amongst the first things to dissolve into the murky chyme washing over my half-digested form. I didn’t feel much as it happened, but seeing my testicles sizzling on my chest as my skin was stripped from my bones was perhaps the last time I really felt scared. Now I only feel apathetic. Watching my body being assimilated and torn down to the most basic of proteins is such an empty sight that all I can look forward to is the eventuality of my demise. For this torturous process to just take my life already and end my mental anguish…

Musky yellow gunk washes across my zombified form and strips away what remains of my broken body. I’ve swallowed this clumpy gunk multiple times at this point, and while I’ve been kept in a curled-up position for the most part, my stomach was the first thing to rupture. These unforgiving gastric acids ate my body from the inside out, and since my eyelids have long since melted from my face, so too does my eyesight begin to fail me. The last thing I see before my eyes pop and bleed into the chyme is the red flesh undulating across my face.

The culmination of my absorption fast approaches as I swirl blindly and without a sense of touch or the ability to hear. My eardrums dissolved soon after my eyes did, and despite not being able to hear or feel with conventional methods, I can still sense the motions of not just the peristalsis, but the thumping of Fenrir’s steady heartbeat and his rhythmic breathing. They move me just as much as the undulation ripping the limbs from my decimated torso do.

I become disoriented beyond cognition. I sense that I am nothing more than severed limbs, butchered flesh, broken bones, and chunks of bloody meat that sizzles and churns in the chyme of who I used to be, yet despite this stage of my digestion, life doesn’t seem to leave me…

Is this what Fenrir was promising when he hypnotised me? The memory of what I felt during my hypnotised state feels like a drunken haze when I try to recall it, but I’m almost certain he said we would “Become one”. Will I live forever as nothing more than a sense of existence without a form to call my own? To be nothing but a consciousness trapped in the final moment of my life?

As my skull swishes around in the gastric acids, muscle stripping clean from my bones and my organs churning into fats and carbohydrates that will fuel the sergal’s body, I start to understand that my head is no longer attached to my corpse, that subject S3R-G6L’s enzymes are now eating away at my brain, and that the demise I have been yearning for is fast approaching.

My life has been a list of failed relations and underwhelming accomplishments, but the one thing I was proud to be a part of was The Sergal Project. While I may not have been an active member in the construction of his DNA, I aided in his cloning, I helped in bringing him into this world, I sustained and guided him throughout his entire development, and even now that I’m about to die, I continue to assist in sustaining the sergal’s life.

Perhaps that smug look Fenrir always gave me was him understanding that I am like a parent to him? That the only way he could recompensate me for all my efforts, the only real way he could ever show how much he appreciates who I am as a person is to devour me and absorb my body? His mind obviously works in ways we could never understand, so if I were to try and see this from a predator’s point of view, I’d say that makes a lot of sense. For what is more considerate that killing those you love instead of allowing them to die in ways unworthy of their existence?

As my consciousness ebbs and flows between lucidity and the acids squelching around me begin to dissolve my brain tissue, a serenity greets me in the same fashion as when Fenrir had hypnotised me with that beguiling light of his. He once promised me that I would find pleasure, desire, and purpose in his stomach. I have already felt the initial one through the orgasms he brought me, and now that I melt into chyme, I find the latter two coming to fruition.

I feel satisfied, accomplished, and needed in a way that I never have before. As I dissolve into a bloody stew and my mind begins to fail me, I feel a sense of belonging that I never knew possible. It’s like returning to your childhood home after years away from it. Like understanding the complexity of human thought and why we feel the things we do. Or even akin to the sensation you feel when kissing someone for the first time… Here within Fenrir’s gurgling gut, here within his churning flesh, I have found purpose. I feel whole, I feel complete, and as darkness starts takes me, I can only hope that he understands just how grateful I am to have been part of the reason for his very existence…

~THE END~