Archive of Our Own

I hate a lot of things.

I hate feeling wet. I hate the heat. I hate those who feel the need to dominate conversation. I hate incessant noise. I hate being stuck. I hate it when people don’t mind my tail.

Yet nothing–no, not a single thing–compares to the hate, the sheer contempt, in which I hold the Thunder Science corporation in. The sniveling, haggard whelps who brought me into this world just to poke and prod at me. To experiment on me as if I were a thing. An object of interest. Who revel in their ability to sic’ me on whatever test they have in mind. 

I hate Thunder Science. I hate the pathetic, spineless apes who work for them. I hate the maggots who fund them. I hate everything they stand for.

There’s little I don’t hate. Maybe in another life, another time, I wouldn’t be so bitter. It’s unfortunate that I am. I don’t enjoy being hateful, loathing every little thing in this world. But this life is not that.

I’ve been stuck in suspension for years. The last fading memories I have of being free are starting to become blurry and uncertain. The only reason I haven’t given up is because I hate Thunder Science. I still think and curse inwardly because there will be a day that I am released from this coma and nothing will stop me from unleashing every little bit of hate stored within me.

This suspension is a stasis chamber. A glass tube filled with oxygenated water. The lab rats here take advantage of the fact everything they pump into the water is absorbed through my latex. They fill it with countless sedatives and depressants. I am perpetually stuck in a state of sleep paralysis, acutely aware of my surroundings yet unable to will my body to move. They try to muffle my senses, depriving me of sight and touch, yet they are unable to deafen me. That, so far, has been my only saving grace. The only thing that reminds me that I am alive, that I haven’t been slain and sent to a hellish, dark purgatory.

Despite being underwater and entombed in reinforced glass and steel, I can hear every minute sound in my room. The whirring of machinery, the dripping leak in the ceiling, and most importantly:

The sound of someone entering.

“You’re on Six-Eyes duty again, contractor.” One voice says. There’s a series of footsteps, drawing closer to me. The first continues, “That includes the science team’s testin’ later today. Don’t worry, your hazard pay is getting doubled for it.”

The hydraulic door wheezes shut. A second voice groans and curses at the first, quiet enough to not draw attention. Something scrapes against the tile floor, a chair I assume, before a person settles on it.

This man has been in my prison many times. His co-workers only refer to him (and each other, now that I think of it) as “contractor.” Superiors would be called “corporals” and inferiors “privates.” A private military company, at the heed of Thunder Science and Thunder Science only.

There is little I don’t hate. I don’t hate this man.

“Hey, Tail.” He holds a conversation without me. I cannot respond. They all call me Tail, Six-Eyes, or Sample. This man is the only one who doesn’t say it with detest or repulsion. “Lots of news today. Finally got updates on the world outside this bunker.”

Thunder Science moved me swiftly to this underground confinement the last time I managed to break free. The only reason they had caught me was because, in my blind and arrogant rage, I had gotten sloppy. Yet, not before I had dwindled their security’s numbers to barely a fraction of its volume before. That fact still makes me swell with pride, so long after. I can cut you down in droves.

“So,” Contractor continues, “To start with the good news, I heard the surface portion of TSC is still holdin’ up well.” That’s your good news? Irrelevant. Not of note. I don’t care. You can do better than that. “On a more personal note, I managed to hear back from my ma’ and siblings. They managed to get to a safehouse. None of them are sick, so far, so they should be able to wait Pale out until it runs its course.” Much better. Never talk to me about this filthy company ever again. I only want to hear about you.

“On the bad news,” Contractor’s voice begins to take on a mumble. “TSC higher command no longer sees a point in continuing cure development. They plan to just wait it out, let everyone on the surface die, and let the folks we have in this bunker rebuild society.” What did I just say?! I don’t care! I would rather sound myself with a shard of glass. “I tried to pitch a fit about it, but they threatened to kick me out of the bunker. They are paying me in survival, after all. Governments are collapsing and there’s no assured security or safety out there. So, they’re holdin’ that over me.” He sighs for a long moment. The chair he is sitting upon creaks as he adjusts himself. “Just happy my little brother is making it through. He’d just be turnin’ twelve this year.”

This has been a common occurrence now. Contractor would come into my room to do a job nobody apparently wanted to do. I couldn’t tell what it was exactly–I couldn’t open my eyes under my own will–but as he performed his duties he would talk to me. It was the few respites I had from my solitary confinement. I couldn’t talk back, couldn’t opine on the conversation at hand…

…but I could listen, and that appears to be what Contractor needed the most.

Every little thought he had would be relayed to me. Humans are social creatures, yet I would take a guess that his co-workers don’t meet Contractor’s social needs. So, he confides in me. He might as well be talking to a wall, what with the fact that I am completely paralyzed. Though, I can suppose that talking to a vaguely anthropomorphic shaped wall would be better than actually talking to a wall.

“Boss doesn't have to be so high-and-mighty about it though.” Contractor grumbles, “The corporal'll be like, ‘oh, well, if you don't like it, why don't you find free room and board somewhere else?’ The point bein’, well, there is nowhere else. But, like, it ain't free in the first place? I'm payin’ with my labor. I'm owed a place to stay and food to eat.” He kicks the tile floor in defiance. “I'm a loyal soldier, damn it. I shouldn't be talked down to like a toddler for empathizin’ with my fellow man. I don't want a bunch of people to just ‘die out’ like numbers on a graph to ensure my own survival. That's plain selfish.”

His passionate vent tapers, and the room grows quiet again. The silence grows overbearing, and for a moment, I'm convinced Contractor had left me here alone again. That notion is quickly dismissed, as his voice graces my ears once more.

“Well, uh.” There's a certain endearing charm to the way he fumbles over his words. It's cute. He's an idiot, and he’s adorable. “I'm goin’ to… uh, put in some ‘initiative’ like the higher-ups have been telling us to.” The chair creaks. Footsteps circle around me. Then, a computer console turns on. “Some of the science crew think they're wastin’ too much horse tranquilizer on ya’.” Do they now? That’s quite interesting, now that you mention it. Oh, Heaven’s above and sky forbid that they waste a cent too much and cost-cut too little, hm? “And, they're smarter than me. I trust their judgement. So I'll bump down how much doggy Benadryl the system is giving you.” You are far too beneath me to call me ‘doggy.’ Not to mention, it's factually incorrect. I will let it pass this once, though. You're lucky I like you. “Maybe they'll actually appreciate me, huh?” I will appreciate you plenty if you let me out.

A series of beeps sound out from the machine. Contractor umms and ahhs as he deciphers the computer. Then, eventually, a successful chirp sings through the air.

“There we go.” Contractor says to himself victoriously. “That should keep you happy and asleep for a while longer.” You call this ‘happy’, Contractor? I'd be much happier with the head of one of your superiors in my maw as I grind their skull into dust between my molars. Agh, I need something to chew on. I’ll bite lit embers if it means I can gnaw on it.

“So, anyways,” Contractor continues. “Science team’s got another experiment later today, and I drew the short stick. So, I get thrown into the test chamber with whatever latex they got in there.” I chomp at the inside of my cheek idly. Contractor groans, “I swear, they rig the draw against me half the time. This’ll make the third time in the past two weeks where I had to be the test monkey for the science team.” I clack my teeth and snap at nothing. “But, I guess it’s fine. I get extra rationing and a greater guaranteed payout in… whatever currency survives Pale.” … Wait. I can clack my teeth. I can move my jaw.

That revelation shifts my focus away from Contractor and back to myself. He continues to talk as I take in my surroundings.

I still can’t open my eyes. However, I am no longer numb. I can feel the ebb and flow of water through my fur. I can move my maw, snap at the empty space before me, and breathe out to make bubbles.

I try to flex my hand. My arm flexes and tenses, but no movement. I try again and again. I’m nearly defeated, until my thumb touches my palm.

I can move my hand. Contractor had given me some fleeting autonomy in his pursuit of sucking up to this enigmatic ‘Science Team.’ The ever-slightly lower dose of drugs had given me some movement.

So, so many thoughts rush through my head. What if I develop a tolerance to the lower dose? If so, I could break out with my own strength. What if I break out while nobody is looking? I could rip and tear through the remaining Thunder Science scum and finally be free of these wretched experiments. What would I do with my freedom? Everything! There would be nothing withheld! I could feel the wind blow across my face. I could run and run until my legs gave out from exhaustion. I could taste fresh meat and let blood leak down my jowls.

I would be shaking from the sheer rush I felt if it weren’t for the fact that I still feel heavy and immobile. It takes immense effort for the smallest of movements. So, for now, I wait. I wait until nothing watches me, and I wait for when I can break free of this stupid chamber.

I finally tune back into Contractor, woefully confused about what he’s speaking about. “So, yeah, that’s the last time I played Catan, and honestly it might be my peak. I don’t think I’d ever live up to it again. ‘Specially after I fooled that dummy into giving up his ore for pretty much nothing in return.” Something beeps in the room, and it alerts Contractor. “Oh, shoot, it’s time already? Dang. Well, I ain’t gonna bore you no longer, Tail.” No. No, don’t go. Contractor claps his hands together, “Pray for me, I don’t know what latex they’re throwing me at and I think they’re keeping that info away from me. Kinda mean, but oh well. It ain’t gone wrong before, I’m sure it won’t this time.”

And, what I dreaded finally happened: Contractor left. I hear his boots tap against the tile floor, getting further and further away, until there was nothing. Yes, I intended to break free, raze this place to the ground, but…

Oh, whatever.

I am not left to stew in silence for long, however.

A new voice enters the way Contractor came. “Y’got the dolly?”

“The hand truck?” A second snidely corrects.

“Shut up, Yankee, and help me haul Six-eyes.”

A click. Something whirrs to a stop. The water I float in grows ominously still. My chamber jolts, and I am whisked around inside. Something snags the bottom of my metal coffin, and the tube tilts on its side. I float up into the glass door, unable to stop my snout from uncomfortably pressing against it. There’s a rolling noise. The acoustics of my surroundings shift from a deafening dullness to an overstimulating chatter. I can hear stray portions of conversation fly through the air, bouncing off the walls in an awful cacophony. It changes again to a long, endless tunnel where the sounds from each end reverberate through my very being torturously.

Then, I hear pistons. My chamber is set upright again. And once more, I hear pistons.

I am left alone once more, but now I can hear dozens of humans. They’re all around me, haunting me. What they say is muffled, too muffled to understand, but I would sooner jump into an active volcano than give any of my attention to Thunder Science zombies.

A robotic voice cuts through. “Walton Childs, please enter the heavy containment cell through the north.”

More pistons, more hydraulics. A series of footsteps that suddenly stop. There’s a sharp bark of orders and insults, before the footsteps continue much, much more slowly.

The same robotic voice echoes, “Walton Childs, please release the lock on the sample’s containment cell.”

Nothing but heavy breathing.

The robot repeats, “Please release the lock on the sample’s containment cell.” There’s no change in its tone, but it’s clearly annoyed.

There’s a beep and a loud mechanical wheeze. I hear the dripping of water slowly turn into a stream, before ending in a torrent. I am gently lowered from my floating, only to be promptly thrown against a cold, hard floor. 

I crack an eye, and the lights blind me once more. I close them, only for the sheer radiance of the LEDs to shine into my eyes anyways.

I throw an arm out. I still feel heavy, but instead of being locked in place, I feel more akin to being weighed down. I desperately try to sense my surroundings. Every time I try to open my eyes, the lights seem to get brighter. Everything is incredibly cold and wet.

As I shakily make it on to all fours, I finally make out the silhouette of something. They are standing before me, holding a rod. The rod appears to quiver in their hand.

“Please administer a shock to the sample with your service weapon.”

The figure before me touches the side of their head, “What?! You want me to hit it?!”

I inhale sharply. I know their voice. His voice. It’s Contractor.

Another human, garbled in static, emanates from whatever is attached to Contractor’s head. “Hit the fuckin’ thing, contractor! It’s an animal–establish dominance!”

Contractor sucks air through his teeth. “Of course I have to get the walking war crime angry.”

My vision comes into focus only to see Contractor raising a baton above his head. He brings it down on my temple, and a surge of electricity assaults me. Every part of my body tenses and distorts, my latex goo flailing about trying to keep itself together. I’m forced back onto my stomach from the blow.

I try to look up.

A Thunder Science soldier, clad in dark clothes with hints of blue. Contractor wore a heavy helmet that covered his face, with a cap sat atop it. Yet, as my eyes readjust to seeing again, I notice a few things.

The last time I escaped, these security officers were much more… fancy, is the word I would use. Their armor gleamed in the light like obsidian, and the blue accents glowed in the dark. If it weren’t for the lack of fur and a tail, one would be forgiven for mistaking them for a dark latex.

Yet, this man before me looked nothing like that.

I don’t believe Contractor is a messy man. He never spoke like a messy man, how his peers and superiors did. However, his clothes were obviously aged and ill-fitting. The body armor was chipped and chafed in odd ways, and the helmet on his head no longer represented the theft of my freedom, but was an artifact in itself–dusty and with a layer of crust.

I don’t believe Contractor is a messy man. Instead, I think Thunder Science’s precious budget has not stood the test of time.

“Walton Childs, administer shocks to the sample in regular intervals until it rouses to action.”

“Oh, God…” Contractor mumbles. He’s scared. Even still, I hate to admit it, he’s cute. You’re adorable when you’re trembling in fear. I’ll make you look even more precious.

With a wobbling hand, he raises his baton again.

I force my hands underneath me and firmly shove the ground. I throw myself off the floor and out of the way of the second blow to my head. I try to remember how my feet work, stumbling side-to-side until I finally settle in place.

Contractor nearly leaps out of his clothes from shock. He’s curled in on himself, holding the baton between him and I.

“It just jumped halfway across the containment cell!” Contractor touches the side of his head and aggressively whispers to someone. You must not know that I have four ears. You are simply dollish with how much of an idiot you are. “That better count as it rousing to action! Get me out of here!”

“Please continue interacting with the latex.” The dull robot voice adds.

“You–!” Contractor grits his teeth and censors whatever he was about to say.

I begin to tread forwards, slowly and steadily. I need a plan. I hate the clothes Contractor dresses in, but I can’t will myself to hate Contractor. I may be trapped in this ‘heavy containment cell,’ but I hold cards over Contractor. He’s confided in me, and I can use those secrets against him.

But first, I need to get him by himself, and I need to make him willing to talk.

With every step I take, Contractor shakes like leaves in the wind. That heavy helmet hides his face, but it can’t hide his blatant fear. I get closer, and he stabs the air at me with his baton. I draw even closer, and he backs away. The slowest game of cat and mouse ensues as I steadily tread towards him and Contractor backs away, until he bumps into the wall. I cut off his escape routes and force him into a corner with my presence alone.

“Let me out!” He whispers into that device in his ear. Nothing responds. This makes him panic, and he takes a wild swing at me.

I catch the baton by the handle. I slip it free of his hand and toss it aside.

We need privacy. That earpiece needs to go.

I plant a paw against his chest firmly. He gasps and goes cold. Contractor is completely still aside from his fear-riddled quivering. I lean in, my snout brushing against the shell of his ear. He's breathing so heavily that his wheezes whistle around the inside of his helmet. I gently bite the earpiece and pull it away from Contractor. Then, I crush it between my teeth. It tastes of copper and static, and it makes my tongue tingle slightly. I swallow the debris.

I pull back, but still impose on Contractor.

“Stop shaking.” I had never heard myself speak before. It nearly surprised me.

“How can you…” Contractor trails off, his adorable little squeals faltering in my presence.

“Listen to me.” I rest an arm on the wall behind Contractor, using it as a curtain to hide us from whatever prying eyes I know are here. “You do not want to be here. Not just this chamber, but this entire bunker. I know that.”

“What in the world are you talking about?” He finds his words for a few sparse moments, “How can you even talk?”

“You have a little brother. You certainly, then, have parents. Loved ones. They are not here with you. They are elsewhere.” I cast shadows over Contractor, the blues of his uniform darkening to midnight purples. “They have been kept from you, have they not?”

Contractor doesn’t gasp. Doesn’t sigh or scream. In fact, he doesn’t breathe at all. He mouths a “How do you know that?”

“You don’t want to be here. You would rather be anywhere else. Your superiors’ decisions run against your own beliefs.” I press my hand into his chest, holding him to the wall. “You’re undervalued and underappreciated.”

“How do you know that?” He repeats, unable to keep his trembling under control.

“Do you want out of here, or not?”

“Where else is there to go?”

Contractor isn’t fighting me. He’s debating me, which means he believes what I have to say is worth debating. I have made it up the first step of a dozen more. All I need is to say the right words, play the right heart-strings at the right moments, and I’ll have a willing pawn.

What do you want, Contractor? You’re not one for power, you call yourself a loyal soldier. You have no need for wealth–you are not certain human currencies have even survived. No, what you want is security. You want to feel safe.

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” I keep myself to a growling whisper. This ‘Science Team’ certainly has this room equipped to listen and observe everything that goes on here, so I must be careful. “You are at risk of that human disease if you leave. You call it Pale. I am not. All I want is to leave.” I bump the end of my snout against Contractor’s helmet. “You know what I am capable of. That is why you’re scared. I am able to wipe out everyone here. I am able to wipe out everyone except you. I could leave you as the sole inheritor of this bunker. You would be safe. You could bring in your family. Your family would be safe.”

“Why would I help you?” He gingerly questions.

“Because it would help yourself.”

“Why would I trust you?”

“Because your future isn’t guaranteed with Thunder Science.” I counter, “You said this is the third time in two weeks you’ve been forced to parlay with latexes. How long do you think your luck will last? A month? A year?” I needle him with questions. His body seems to go slack, not from lack of fear, but from an epiphany. “No matter how long it lasts, it will not last forever. Not unless you do something.”

Contractor breathes again. Each shallow gasp was accompanied by a weak exhale. All he responds with is more panting.

I shake him. “Answer me.”

He does as I say. “What… what do you want me to do?”

“You do some task nobody else wishes to do, and you are left alone with me for hours at a time.” I explain, “You were able to freely modify my cell without any alert. There are clearly no safety measures on my chamber or in the room.” My face tenses; I can’t help but smile. “Humans sleep. In the dead of night, release me. I will slaughter everyone and leave you this bunker. We will never see each other again.”

“Oh, thank god.” Contractor huffs to himself.

The ever-present robot speaks again, “Walton Childs, the latex has been inactive for some time. Please provoke it into a new behavior pattern for further observation.” The way it talks irritates me in a way I can’t understand.

I grumble. “What do they want?”

“They… they wanna see what you do. What they can get you to do.”

Of course. Poking and prodding, prodding and poking. Endlessly and without stop. I nod. “I know they plan to put me back in that stasis chamber. How are they going to manage that?”

“They have tranquilizers all around this room trained on you.”

“What’s the fastest way to end this little ‘experiment’ early?”

Contractor clears his throat. “They said if you start getting too feisty, that they’ll tranq’ you and try again tomorrow.”

“I see.” If it’s a fight they want, I can show them exactly how ‘feisty’ I can get. “I’m going to maul you, then.”

“Wha… what?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” I grab him by his collar, easily lifting him off the ground. “Nothing more than roughing you up a bit.”

“Wait, no, no no no no!”

I chuck him across the chamber. He soars through the air, crashing against the far wall. He leaves a deep indent on the otherwise perfectly white wall. Contractor falls to the ground with a groan and a whimper.

Oh, I didn’t throw you that hard, you oversized puppy.

I hear machinery rev up all around me. Slits open up in the walls, and long steel shafts poke out. Something fires from one of them, and a dart is firmly lodged in my side. It tingles. I suppose my time here is limited. Let’s have fun while I still can.

I dash over to where Contractor has collapsed and pounce on him. He’s tiny when compared to me–I’m certain I could flatten him if I jumped on him with all my weight. Another dart whistles through the air and digs into my back. I pin Contractor in place and bite down on his head. His helmet holds up, the metal creaking between my jaws. He lets out a muffled scream as I chew on him. 

Another dart sinks into my thigh, and I start to feel ill. Everything grows blurry, and the only thing anchoring me to reality is the little human underneath me.

I hook my teeth to the underside of Contractor’s helmet and pull back with all the strength I could muster. The twisting and tearing of metal screech out as my eyes grow too heavy to open.

Something hits me firmly in the back, and everything fades to black.

…

I was fully capable of transfurring Contractor when I had the chance. Perhaps I would have been able to use our combined strength to outlast the sedation and break out of the containment cell. The thought did cross my mind when I was bearing down on him–what a fantastic chew toy he was–though I couldn’t will myself to act on it. I told him that I would be gentle, and that I would only rattle him, and something deep within me would not let me go against my word.

I want to gnaw on him again. The thought of biting him until he was tender and sore is so unbelievably thrilling. Yet, it’s distinctly different than the thrill I get from fantasizing about hunting down and slaughtering these Thunder Science ghouls. I don’t want to hurt Contractor, I just want to bite him.

Which, that distinction is strange. It’s not something I’m used to. And the thrill is different too. Exciting, yes, and most certainly makes me feel alive, but while the righteous culling of Thunder Science makes me feel powerful, the thought of Contractor causes a warm swelling sensation in my chest.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been unconscious. I’ve likely already been placed back in that containment cell, never to see the light of day again.

Contractor is probably not coming back.

That’s… fine, I suppose. I should be angry, reveling in hate once more, but I can’t muster the will to be. Those fleeting minutes of excitement and life have placated me for a while. I’m certain I’ll be sentenced back to bitterness after some time passes.

In fact, I feel quite… calm. I still have much, much more “steam” to burn off, as these humans would call it, but I feel better than I did before. There's also a distinct warmth surrounding me, not like the frigid waters of that stasis chamber that I had grown numb to. And yet, I'm being rocked by an unseen force, gently pushed back and forth. It's comforting. There's a white noise tickling my ears. It puts my mind at ease. If I listen closely, I think I hear a…

“Oh, God, I must be insane if I'm actually doing this.” I'm rocked again and again. There's a firm, smooth surface underneath me. “Wake up. Come on, wake up. You were A-and-O just a few hours ago, those darts couldn't have done that much.”

Impossible. Contractor had actually freed me. I was at peace because I was having actual, restful sleep, not forced into a coma.

One of my eyes cracks open. The room I am in is comfortably dark. The only light is one red-orange glow coming from the entrance. I look to my feet to see a monolith, the stasis chamber that had been my prison for so long, left open. I glance up and see a figure.

Contractor.

He's crouched down and hunched over my body as if protecting a hidden treasure. His helmet is visibly torn and broken. He notices I am awake and suddenly pulls back like I was an open flame. “Oh, jeez. Woah, woah. Easy. It's me.” Contractor preemptively tries to settle me.

I breathe. I get plenty of oxygen through my latex goo, but it simply doesn't feel the same as breathing freely. I stare up at the ceiling. “I believe the moment between you opening that prison and now is the first time I've slept in years.”

“Oh… uhm, did… did you want me to let you sleep?”

Adorable. “How polite of you. No.” I pull myself upright, taking the brief solace to prepare myself for what is to come. I will rampage in this bunker, certainly, but I must be careful when I do so. I can not allow them to capture me again–this might be my last chance to escape. I let my gaze drift over to Contractor. The subtle lighting reflects off him favorably. Though, it's mostly because it makes him seem less like a Thunder Science mook. “You look nice.”

This causes him to stand straight. Punching him in the jaw would have left him less stupefied. He gawks at me mindlessly until he finally responds with a: “What?”

Oh, you're so stupid, I love it. “Let's move. We have much to do tonight.” I tuck my legs underneath myself and stand up.

“Wait,” Contractor tries to stop me, but I am quick to leave the room I've been locked in for so long. Instead, he's fast on my heels. “How did you know about my little brother? My family?”

The cell opens up into a large central chamber. We seem to be up on the second floor, suspended by a steel catwalk. “You spend hours every day in my prison. I hear everything you say.”

“But… but you were unconscious?” He stutters out.

“Your employers do not understand latexes well.” I chuckle, trying to keep my childish giggling under control. “In fact, I doubt anyone does. Myself included. I might try to learn once I am settled in my new freedom.” I look back at him. “Is everyone asleep, as I asked?”

“Should be.” He hesitantly agrees.

“Where are they sleeping?”

“Once we're off the catwalk, the dorms are down the eastern hallway.” Contractor lifts an arm and stifles a cough. “How… much have you heard?”

I spot the rickety steps down and quietly plod to the ground floor. I scout for some indication of an eastern hallway, and spot a route marked by an ‘E’. “Enough to know you're being played like an idiot by every single one of your superiors.” I grumble, “But, you work for Thunder Science. That is to be expected.”

“You really think so?”

That question was not expected. It was soft, somewhat vulnerable, and begging for some sort of comfort. It forces me to pause and consider my words. “I believe that if you had spent the last few years with your family, risking infection from that human virus, that you would have lived a happier and fuller life.”

Upon reaching the end of the hall, I am met with a solid door with no obvious ways to open it. There's a panel to one side of it with a screen. Contractor steps in front of me, plucking a badge out of a pocket and holding it up to the screen. It asks for him to confirm his action, and he hesitates.

“Do you… have to hurt them?” He asks shakily.

“Why are you asking now?” I keep myself to a whispering rumble.

“What if we just left?” He doesn't turn to face me as he speaks, instead staring at the empty wall. “You’re strong. Pretty smart. We could just figure out a way to slip out now.”

“That doesn't answer my question. Why are you asking now?”

“I don't know, I just…” Contractor sighs, “I guess you've sort of spelled out what I knew for so long, and it's hitting me.”

“Elaborate. Quickly.”

“Joined up with the company at first to earn some quick cash. Thunder Science had contracted out a force and were taking on anyone who was willing to get beat up.” Contractor's gaze drops down to his feet-paws. No, that's wrong, his feet. “I never really left the mindset that this job was temporary and that I had to figure out something else to do before… well, before it was too late, and I had signed on to get locked in this stupid friggin’ bunker protecting a bunch of rich idiots and…” Contractor groans, shakes his head, “You know what? Whatever. I'm not even sure why I'm worried. I either die here miserable or die to Pale with the chance to be happy.” Contractor silently opens the door to the dormitories. “Do your thing. As soon as we're done here, I'm leavin’. Running for the hills.”

Hm. I see. I don’t comment further and let Contractor turn away. I presume he doesn’t want to watch the festivities.

I enter the chamber. I am met with an orchestra of snoring. The ambient temperature rises from the sheer amount of bodies present in the room. It was nearly pitch black. Nearly. My eyes pick up the last traces of light and let me slink through the room with muted efficiency.

I pick out the closest human to be the first. They were clad in breeches and a white shirt, with the faint outline of something binding their chest. I don’t understand human fashion choices, nor do I particularly care.

I grab her. I force a limb into her mouth and funnel latex down her throat to silence her. She snorts and gags, and her eyes crack open the slightest amount. Then, she bolts awake. I press my weight into her. She tries to scream and panic, but I’ve fully restrained her. My latex covers her head, working down her body and binding her in place. She kicks and punches the air futilely.

I feel a distinct rush. Cold, thrilling, powerful and arousing. There’s a burning in the back of my head. She’s terrified. You better be.

A set of ears develop on her head, perky and cattish. Do I transfur her? Hm. No, I think you’ll be better suited elsewhere. My goo splits open and I pull her in, tucking her away into my body. She’s wriggling inside of me, but it doesn’t last long. Eventually, the sensations subside and disperse throughout me.

I feel full. I feel light on my feet and excitable. I feel like playing games and singing. Oh, goodness, it’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. My face is tight from how much I’m smiling. I feel larger. I look down to notice I stand a little higher than before. I flex a hand. I could crush iron between my fingers.

I shouldn’t revel in this relief for long. I have much to do. It would be more efficient to transfur the next few humans, and let the newborn latexes fight for hosts. The sleeping humans appear unarmed and unprepared.

The next few moments pass like leaves in a modest breeze. I fell into a trance. I explored every human inside and out. I carved out and molded a much more adorable form for each and every one I could get my paws on. Little ears, round snouts, and perked tails were abound. My presence transformed the room itself, filling it with latex life and erasing whatever human greed and hubris stained it. Those that resisted me could do nothing but fall into my embrace.

I was unstoppable. I am unstoppable. There was no blaze of glory and bloodshed. There was no need. I was always superior to these Thunder Science worms in every way. I had no need to express that through violence.

Instead, I uplifted them. I gifted them with peace and love they could only dream of. No, not even dream of. I doubt anyone who worked for this… this abomination of a company could conceive of peace and love.

I left the room with it covered ceiling to floor in my latex goo. I tap the panel beside the door until it closes behind me.

I look to Contractor. He’s stood against the wall opposite of me. There’s a bundle of papers, bags, and a new badge that he did not have before.

“I packed my things and nicked one of the higher ups’ ID badge.” Contractor explains, “You wrapped up everything?” He asks.

… I could transfur Contractor right now. He has made a wonderful little companion. I can envision it now–his short but strong form remade into something slightly more feral. Something more natural and raw. I could decorate him like a doll once we were free, dress him in flowers and flora. There would be nothing he could do, and I would forever have him to myself.

The thought bounces around my head rapidly. It gains speed every time it echoes in my mind.

And, yet, I can’t raise a paw to him.

“Yes,” is all I can manage to say. “Let’s leave.”

“This way, big guy.”

Big guy? That’s not my name. Why did you call me that? I find myself falling in line behind Contractor, following him towards the exit.

I’ve never particularly had a name. Sure, I’ve been designated titles and crass nicknames, but that was different. I’ve been told my name is Tail, but I never chose it. But, Contractor didn’t look down at me when he called me ‘big guy.’ It wasn’t derogatory. Why did he call me that? My goo tingles. It’s warbling and shaking with uncertainty. There’s the sound of sweeping behind me, and I glance back with an… emotion I don’t recognize.

Why is my tail moving so much? I can’t stop it. It's kicking up dust in its wake.

I shift my focus back on to Contractor. We reach a large shutter door with a simple panel on one side of it. Contractor approaches it, taps the stolen badge to it, changes some of its settings, then a heavy, mechanical whirring calls out. The shutter door slowly opens. With each inch it rises, a tension rises in my chest.

First I see the grass. It's a bluish hue with drops of dew adorning the blades. Then, I see the shrubbery in the distance. Dots of red decorate them. I see the trees, rising into the air and framing the sky. Then, I see the sky itself. It was a purple midnight, with stars, oh so many stars twinkling away in the sky.

 I look up and I feel small. I feel awe. I carefully step out of the bunker, and the grass lets out a wet crunch under my paws. It brushes against the pads. It almost tickles. When I exhale, mist fogs the air. I find myself huffing and trying to catch the wispy strands that fly off.

I feel… emotional. Emotional is all I can describe it as, because I don't recognize the emotions. There's a swell in my chest, my eyes have never been so wide, and my tail continues to sweep the ground as it has been. An unseen coil, a spring, had been loaded into me, and everything itches with the desire to let all that energy out. I want to run. I want to jump. I want to roll around in the ground until I'm filthy. I want to do so much.

“Hey, uh…” Contractor's voice snaps me out of my trance. “You're breathing heavy there. You feelin’ alright, big fella’?”

There it is again. These names that are not mine but yet they appraise me with such… affection. It causes that warm swelling to fill my chest. It chokes the air out of me, and yet I don't fight it, because the sensation is… lovely.

“You look nice.”

That heavy helmet hides his face, but he shifts as if caught off guard. “Where'd that come from?” Contractor asks, genuinely confused.

“The dark blues and purples of the night; it complements your features.”

He pauses. “I didn't expect you to be so, like, artsy.”

“Did you think I was unable to have my own opinions?” I question

“I didn't even know you could talk until earlier today.” He responds, “I don't know much about you.”

“Those scientists performed so many experiments on me. I had assumed most of you had some depth of knowledge on myself.”

“No, like,” He corrects with a shake of his head, “What are you into, what are you like, what makes you happy? That sort of thing.”

“Oh, well.” These kinds of questions seem petty. Easy to answer. Basic. Yet when I stop to think, I can't come up with an answer. All of my thoughts and opinions revolve around Thunder Science and how much I detest the corporation. I’m… sad. It makes me sad. “I don't know.” My voice falters.

“Oh. I see.” Contractor quietly answers.

We stand there in silence for a while. There's a soft breeze that weaves through my fur. It's nice. It puts me at peace. The woods here lacked any humans or obvious life, but there was a steady ambiance of bugs and small critters that, in a way, made me relax.

“Didn't you want to leave as soon as possible?” I ask Contractor.

“I did.” Contractor replies. He glances down at the ground, kicking the grass. “I'm… havin’ some thoughts.”

“Oh.” I say, “Can you share them?”

He nods, “I'm a little scared.”

“Why?”

Contractor clears his throat, “A little scared is an understatement. Pale is terrifying. It’s not a painful way to go out, but it's…” Contractor shakes his head, sighing, “It's the weakness, it's the suffocating, it's the knowing you're dying and you can't do anything about it. That's the scary part. The feeling that your body is turning against you, and nothing can save you.” He slips his hands in his pockets and continues to stare at the ground. 

“And it’s knowing, in a way, it’s inevitable.” He continues after a moment of thought, “I’ll have to move around and look for supplies. I’ll likely have to be around other people who are infected. It’s only a matter of time before I catch it.” Contractor speaks slowly. There’s no despondence with him, but there’s an undeniable air of disappointed acceptance. “I know ya’ said that being free and dying would be better than being miserable and still probably dyin’, but it doesn't make it any less scary.”

“So… what will you do?”

“I don't know.”

Another bout of silence. Another bout of staring out into the dark woods.

“Y'know, I dunno if you were tryin’ to or not, or if you even care, but,” Contractor admits with a soft sigh, “You've been a good friend.”

“I have?”

“Better than anyone else in the bunker has.”

“Oh. That’s… unfortunate.” 

“It really is.”

I step towards Contractor. He doesn't move. There's not an ounce of fear in his body. And yet, nervousness attacks mine. I want to say something, but no words come out. I mumble a few strings of nothing, before I muster my courage. “If I recall correctly, transfur makes you immune to Pale.”

“Yeah, it does.” He agrees.

“Would you want me to…?” I can't finish my offer, but it seems to get across. Contractor scratches his neck, appearing to genuinely consider it.

“I'm… worried I would forget who I am.”

“That's a fair concern.” I don't argue with him, “But… but as a friend,” The word feels odd on my tongue, and yet it's completely correct, “I will do my best to mitigate anything that can go wrong. I'll make sure it's a… lovely experience.” I recognize the stammering and the strange nervousness as fear. I was scared. Scared that I would offend or upset this human. I have spent my entire existence striving to offend, upset, and harm so many humans, it feels unnatural to suddenly be terrified of it. Despite that, I was. Irrefutably so.

Contractor glances up at the tree line, staring off into the night sky. He carefully takes the ‘Thunder Science Security’ hat off his head. He pinches the brim between his fingers, before launching it into the distance with as much strength as his arms could muster. It seems to relieve some tension within him, and he returns to his still state from before. “Is it bad that I kinda believe you?”

“That’s not for me to decide.” I answer truthfully.

“Let me think about it.”

“Take all the time you need.”

He doesn’t think about it for very long. He nods deeply, and asks, “How do you want to do this?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m not the expert here.”

“Assuming I’m an expert.” I couldn’t help but smirk slightly.

“Yeah, well, I’d assume you’d at least have a basic understanding of how your own body works.”

“Rude,” I coyly respond, “And after all I’ve done for you.”

“Let’s just…” Contractor slips off his gloves and rolls up his sleeves, “You at least need, like, skin contact, right?”

I beckon him to me with a wave of my paw, and Contractor obeys. I feel that nervousness again. I’m worried, in a way. Of doing something wrong, of doing wrong by Contractor. I swallow hard. How outlandish, having to steel myself in preparation for something as simple as transfurring a human. Something that I’ve done so many times without even thinking about it.

I open my arms to Contractor, and again beg for him to come closer.

“A hug?” He questions.

“I… said I would make this a lovely experience.” Yes, that’s why we’re hugging. No other selfish, selfish reasons. “You would feel comforted by a hug, would you not?”

He doesn’t argue. “I would.” He admits quietly.

“Come here.” The little human easily fits between my arms. I realize now that he is even smaller than I had realized–he hardly stands up to my chest. I embrace him. In turn, he wraps his arms around my waist. “Don’t worry,” I assure, “I’ll be gentle.”

I hold Contractor to my chest with one hand. My other finds his arm. I grip his forearm firmly, before letting my paw liquefy. My latex goo slowly spreads up his limb, pulling his hand into my body until it is trapped.

Contractor grunts slightly, and I pause. He steadies himself with a deep breath, and tells me to keep going.

His other arm dips beneath my surface, becoming coated in latex. I can feel his digits–splayed across my back–reform and reshape until pawpads dot each tip.

I feel that growing warmth. That suffocating yet secure warmth. That… pleasant warmth. That’s not normal. I shouldn’t be feeling that during transfur. It’s always so cold and empowering, and at this moment, it feels so…

Goo spreads along his body. It slips under and over his clothes. I can feel… myself, my latex, work up his neck. Eventually, it covers his head, though surprisingly it doesn’t try to coat his helmet as well.

It feels so intimate. That’s the word. There’s a closeness that drives nervousness once more. That nervousness drives excitement. Excitement spurns on more and more emotions. Emotions I haven’t been privileged to feel before until now.

His clothes begin to melt away. Some of them meld into the latex, most fall away in scraps.

“Ngh, ow–” Contractor curses softly to himself. That full-face helmet he’s always worn still stands defiantly on his head. It doesn’t vanish into the latex. If I had to guess, it had been treated to resist transfur. “My… my face is being… is being crushed.” He groans. His words come out gurgled, as if held deep underwater.

I hook a hand underneath his helmet, and with all my might, I tear it off. It lets out a metal shriek as I rip it to shreds. The damage I had done before causes it to immediately give way, and it tumbles to the ground.

I can see Contractor’s face for the first time.

They had a forming snout, misaligned and misshapen from the helmet pushing it in. It poured goo, unable to keep its form just yet. Near the back of his head were small nubs. Perhaps they would become ears, or horns? I’m not certain myself. Eyes had not formed yet, and instead, his face was featureless and white.

Contractor’s breaths came in haggard gasps. Each wheeze broils and bubbles the latex that was slowly slipping inside of him. His snout being pushed in by the helmet did not help.

He is adorable. At this moment, Contractor is the most precious sight I’ve ever seen. That warmth had grown into a blaze. Every inch of me feels hot. I smile so much it hurts. I want nothing more but for this to never end. It’s heavenly. There’s a comforting presence surrounding me that I can’t place the source of, and I welcome it anyways. I just wish to hold Contractor and never let him go.

Is this what I have been missing? For all my life, never has so much pure, unfiltered euphoria flowed so freely through me. I feel wonderful.

Contractor's new body is still misshapen. I won't allow him to remain in such a shabby state. I place my paws gently on his cheeks. His head is heavy and lumpy. I lean in, pressing my snout to Contractor's new maw. My tongue forms into a tendril that slowly snakes into his mouth. To my surprise, he meets me with his own tongue. At first, I thought he was trying to stop me, that I had done something wrong and needed to pull back. Then, he cocks his head to the side and pushes himself into me. He wants this.

My tail hasn't stopped wagging.

My tendril-tongue slips down his throat. I pump my latex inside of him, and Contractor lets out a low, long moan. I grab the back of his head and wrap my hands around those unformed nubs. I pull them hard, and they take shape. They were ears, pointy and smooth. His lips shift against mine. What appear to be whiskers form on each side of his snout and hang down. I withdraw from Contractor, though very much begrudgingly. His snout has taken a much more normal form, and those whiskers turn into thick ropes. They are tubes. Those tubes find their way to the back of his head and plug into him.

I pull back to inspect him from tip to tail. In fact, his tail is the first thing I inspect. Long and muscular, though with no obvious fur. Contractor appeared vaguely reptilian, with no fluff and a visibly textured body. His new latex still was uncertain, but it had begun to stick with its shape. When his mouth closes, his snout fully seals shut, leaving no evidence he even has one. There are two bumps on either side of his maw that seem like some sort of filter for breathing through.

He’s holding on to my waist. He hasn’t let go since we started, and I would be remiss to stop him.

His eyes open. Four little blue slits dot his head. They’re bleary and unfocused, but they’re open. Contractor’ll have all the time in the world to get used to his new body. I’ll make sure of it.

“Contractor. Are you alright?” I shake him slightly. He groans, “Contractor, answer me.”

“Is ‘Contractor’ my name?” His words are slurred and slow, and slime spews from his mouth as he talks.

“I don’t know any other name for you.”

“I guess it is, then…” He lets out a dazed chuckle, before pressing his snout to my chest. He rubs his nose in my fur. “You’re fluffy.”

“You still haven’t answered me. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m feelin’ really warm,” He admits. His eyes finally focus, widening slightly to stare me down. “And a little… flustered. I don’t know what I expected, I ain’t exactly been… uh, whatever just happened… but, I didn’t expect to get kissed.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I answer.

“Don’t act coy. You stuck your tongue down my throat, big guy!”

“Oh.” Wait, he’s right. My fur stands on edge. “I suppose it would be a kiss. I was trying to transfur you faster.” I try to explain. I can feel the heat within me shift, now starting to burn my face. “I didn’t know if you were groaning because you weren’t enjoying being transfurred, or because you were.”

“It felt a lot nicer than I had thought…” He mumbles, “The… science crew explained it like… like bein’ taken over by a parasite. All I felt was you huggin’ me all over, eheh…” Contractor’s tail begins to lash, which startles him. He jumps, turning to look at the new appendage. “Ho–... holy hell…”

He was scared by his own tail. The sight caused me to suddenly snort and fight to hold back laughter.

“Quit your gigglin’, this is all new to me!” Contractor snaps.

That only causes my laughing fit to grow worse. Oh, he is so cute. He’s so adorable. He’s precious. He’s all the words I can think of and more. How lucky I am to have this little lizard all to myself. There’s a twitch in my jaw that turns into a cramp.

“You hear me up there, stop snickerin’!”

I can’t hold myself back anymore. He’s too cute. I press my weight into him. I lunge towards his neck and firmly bite him. Contractor stumbles over, falling backwards into the soft grass with a thud. I pin him to the ground. He hisses through gritted teeth, before vocalizing a pleased moan.

“Sh-... ow, that hurts…” He gags from the pressure on his throat. Despite that, he lets me bear down on him. “I’m hopin’ these are love bites.” He runs a hand up my back, gripping my fur tight. I sink my teeth deeper into him as his breaths grow huffy. Once he tenses from the pain, I release him. I gently lick his neck. His latex easily reforms and closes up the bite marks.

“What was that for, bitey?” He chastises, but at the same time, gingerly strokes my cheek.

I trill, “You’re not calling me ‘bitey’.” I respond with another chuckle.

“What else am I gonna call you? You’ve got one hell of an oral fixation. Ever since you got out of that tube, all you’ve done is bite, kiss, and bite some more.”

You and your strange nicknames. How would you feel if I turned them on you? “You’re only calling me ‘bitey’ if you are ‘chew toy’.”

“Might as well make it official, ‘cause I don’t think this’ll be the last time you do your vampire impression.”

I snort. “You’re right. Now, hold still.”

“Wait–”

I attack his throat once more. He curses when my teeth pierce his neck. Contractor squeezes me in his arms as he lets out a whine. He heaves and whimpers as he tries to keep his composure and fails. His incessant moaning is the most fantastic sound I have ever heard. When he quivers and trembles, I only wish to bite him harder.

Something hard presses against my thigh, and my thoughts are interrupted.

I pull away from Contractor and look down. He’s erect; his throbbing dick is resting on my leg.

“Gah, shit, sorry!” Contractor profusely apologizes and flails underneath me. He tries to hide his arousal desperately.

“Calm down.” I respond, “There's nothing to be ashamed of.”

He settles a bit, but he's flustered and still attempting to cover up–and failing to do so, at that.

“Do you enjoy my affection?” I question.

“Damn, you're so formal. It's not helping with not putting me on the spot.” He pouts slightly. His shaft is still pulsing as it sits between my thighs. “Yeah, I like ya’, and I like what you're doing. I think that's kinda obvious.”

I slip a hand down between us and grip his dick. It twitches in my palm, and Contractor lets out a gasp. “I wanted to hear you say it.”

He curses, “Asshole.”

I bump my snout against his, before pressing a kiss to his nose. I pump his length a few times, and Contractor huffs.

“... This is nice.” He mumbles.

“It is.”

I sit upright and straddle his hips. His dick prods my rear, and I can feel the tip of his cock touch my tail. I rest my (now hard) length on Contractor’s stomach, slowly frotting against his belly. His hands gently touch my thighs, and he squeezes me.

He stares up at me, a bit of surprise and a lot of excitement staining his face. “Are you going to…?”

I rock my hips until his dick slips between my asscheeks. “You’ve made the mistake of enabling me.”

“You’re not even going to try to lube up?” He says with astonishment.

“Contractor.” I grin, “Have you noticed you and I are made of latex goo? When has slime had trouble with too much friction?”

He pinches his snout and tries to give me a disapproving glare. However, it’s obvious he’s trying to stifle a laugh. “You just have a comment for every little thing, don’t ‘cha?”

Maybe I do. Maybe you’re just fun to tease. “Here is another one,” I lift my rump and let the tip of his dick kiss my hole. I rub my tailhole along it, before promptly sitting down on it. My overconfidence had gotten the better of me, as it was a tight fit. His shaft was thicker than I had expected, and the stretching was uncomfortable and strange, at first. There was a deep pressure in my lower belly. and I had to grit my teeth to keep my composure. But, I did keep my composure. “Don't pass out.” I grumble.

Contractor grunts and seethes as if I had punched the air out of him with my butt. His eyes roll back and he stares up into the sky. He's throbbing inside of me. “Ooh, God,” He whimpers, “That is your entire weight on my dick, oh fuck.”

“Get used to it.” I snap back. I lift myself up, only slightly, before impaling myself on his shaft once more. I repeat the motion, making sure to slam down onto Contractor with increasing force. Each pump makes him whine. It's music–the sweetest song I've ever heard.

That pressure had turned into a spine-tingling euphoria. Contractor's cock strikes some sensitive part of my insides with every stroke that sends tingles throughout my body. My own shaft smacks against his stomach when I bounce. He's staring at my length.

I lean back, grabbing his legs to brace myself. Contractor is still holding onto my thighs, pulling me into him. My breathing grows short. I can't stop myself from growling and hissing at nothing.

Contractor is babbling and cursing incoherently. He's trembling underneath me. When he tries to string together an intelligible sentence, he interrupts himself with moans of pleasure. The only thing he clearly says is “Tail,” repeating my name over and over.

I can no longer hold a straight face. My jaw goes slack, my tongue slipping out of my mouth. My incessant growling has melted away into my own sounds of bliss. My vision narrows, and my legs burn. Yet, I keep riding his length. My dick throbs, and it drools latex from its tip. Contractor's cock now slides in and out of me with ease, and the shock of pleasure with each thrust bleeds into the next, building an intense heat in my stomach.

Oh, world… is this what I have been missing? The pleasure is fantastic, yes, but having someone here who also wants this, who wants me…

I have nothing to compare the feeling to. It is only euphoric. I have only felt pure, unfiltered euphoria since I have gotten my paws on Contractor. The transfur was wonderful, biting him was wonderful, sex is wonderful.

I hope he feels the same way. I hope I give him euphoria.

My knees buckle and my legs tremble. My dick pulses wildly, before my whole body tenses. Thick ropes of latex shoot from my cock, splattering on Contractor's face and chest. My strength gives out as I hilt myself on his length. That seems to be the last push needed to send Contractor over the edge as well, as hot goo begins to flood my insides. I can feel it churning in my stomach.

“Oh, God, Tail…” Contractor groans.

“Chew toy…” I mumble, “Are you alright?”

He heaves and pants, but nods. “Never been better.” He rubs his snout off, wiping clean my latex goo. “Could've… told me I was in the splash zone.”

“Sorry,” is all I can muster.

“No, no, don't apologize.” He quickly corrects, “That was hot as hell. I just didn't want to, y’know, get it in my eyes.” He sighs, sounding satisfied. “Wait, did you actually call me ‘chew toy’?”

“Uhm…” I suddenly feel very meek.

Contractor laughs, “Oh, hell, I shouldn't like that as much as I do.” He grins widely. His tail thumps the ground softly. “You know how to make a guy feel special, bitey.”

I do like it when he calls me bitey. That, I will admit. “I hope so.” I respond.

Light begins to flood in. The sky turns the faintest bit blue, with an orange glare burning in the distance.

Contractor and I are still trying to catch our breaths. Deciding I have sat on him long enough, I begin to lift off his shaft slowly. His dick slips out with a wet pop, before flopping onto his thigh.

“I'm not gonna walk straight for a while,” Contractor laughs.

“Don't worry. I'll make sure you never walk straight again.”

“If you're telling me you plan on doing this again,” He responds, “Then, uh… that'd be awesome.”

I lie down on top of him, pressing my chest against his face. “I will keep that in mind.” The orange glare becomes a yellow beam, and I see the morning sun for the first time in my life. “Thank you for freeing me, Contractor.”

“I barely remember why you were put in that tube in the first place.” That's likely due to the transfur. But, oh well. I still have you here in my arms. Contractor squeezes my waist. “Today's been great.”

“I suppose it has.” A yawn sneaks out of my maw. I rest my head on the soft grass beneath us.

“You don't intend on falling asleep on top of me, do you?”

“I do.” I answer with another sly smile.

“Of course you do.” Contractor sighs in defeat. “Sleep well, then. Love you.”

My fur stands on end. I'm quickly stirred out of my drowsiness by sudden intrigue. “What was that?”

“You heard me, bitey.” He swats my nose. “Now lay back down and go to sleep. You look exhausted.”

I comply with a fuss. “Fine.” I mumble. I set my head back down and splay out on the grass, using Contractor as a warm body pillow. “I love you, too.” The words were hard to say, but once they left my maw, it was as if I was lighter than before. “Sleep well, if you do, and…” I quickly add, “I hope I see you again soon.”

“I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.”