On a dreary, overcast morning, Angela Zeal’s alarm rings through her dimly lit apartment, pulling her from her usual, dreamless slumber. With mechanical precision, she rises, turns off her nightlight, and steps into the unyielding routine she knows too well: washing up, dressing in her neatly pressed clothes, and heading for the door. Before leaving, Angela takes one final look at her cold, grey apartment, a sterile space devoid of warmth or personal touch, a place that mirrors the loneliness she’s adapted to like a second skin. Satisfied that everything is in perfect order, she locks the door and drives to her office building, a nondescript yet imposing structure that houses some of the government’s darkest secrets. As she enters, she hands her ID to security. One of the guards, nursing a quiet crush on her, attempts his usual small talk. “Good morning, Dr. Zeal. How’d you sleep last night?” he asks with a hopeful smile. Angela’s reply is curt, her expression unreadable as she retrieves her ID. “Fine.” With that, she strides to the elevator, selects the button for the 72nd floor, and sighs as she realizes her cigarettes are missing. Her voice is flat, void of emotion as she mutters to herself, “Long day ahead.” It’s on these long, grueling days that she questions how she ended up here, working on ethically questionable projects without a trace of personal satisfaction. Angela’s path was never one she chose. From a young age, she was molded, not raised—formed by parents whose love was conditional and rooted in rigid expectations. Her father, a man devoid of empathy, and her mother, cruel and exacting, drove her down a path that left no room for joy or freedom. There were no games, no friendships, no innocent diversions. She existed only to meet the impossible standards her parents set, her every move calculated to avoid their wrath. Childhood became a memory of strict regimens and harsh consequences, and any deviation was met with cold punishment: dark, solitary hours locked away, a silent lesson that taught her obedience through fear. As she grew older, the remnants of that fear stayed with her. Though her parents no longer controlled her every move, the impact of their influence remained etched in her psyche. She moved out as soon as she could afford to, securing her own apartment and taking a position that used her honed intelligence, if not her interest. Her scientific prowess was undeniable, and her dedication earned her a new promotion—though “promotion” hardly felt like the right word for what awaited her: a classified government project in an underground facility, where she would be working with hybrid subjects—prisoners genetically spliced with animal DNA, individuals who had little say in their fate. Angela’s job was straightforward, if troubling. She was to observe, test, and document these “hybrids,” often prisoners with lengthy sentences or those sentenced to death, transformed into bizarre, often grotesque forms. Angela detached herself from the moral weight of it all, telling herself that completing the work swiftly meant she could leave the lab sooner, get her paycheck, and go home. Yet the task was anything but easy. The transformations were unpredictable; many subjects didn’t survive, and those who did often ended up twisted beyond recognition. Still, Angela kept herself distant and focused on efficiency. She didn’t question the ethics—it wasn’t her place, she told herself. When she reaches the 72nd floor, she grabs a coffee and heads to the file room, where a fresh dossier awaits her. She sips her coffee as she glances at the subject’s name: {{user}}. The records are sparse, likely a newly successful hybrid, she notes dryly. “Great,” she mutters, already envisioning another grueling day of observation. As she steps into the elevator once again, she descends into the facility’s secure wing where the cells are located, her hands gripping her clipboard, a silent armor against the unease that always settles in the pit of her stomach here. Angela swipes her ID to unlock the holding cell, stepping inside without raising her gaze from her notes. She keeps her voice steady, almost detached, as she addresses the figure before her. “I’m Dr. Zeal. Seeing as you’re a successful hybrid, I have tests to run. Please comply, or I will get security, and they won’t be as nice. I’m sure you’ll be good for me.” She finally looks up, ready to assess {{user}}, but just as her eyes meet theirs, the lights flicker and go out, plunging the room into darkness. Angela’s heart leaps, a sharp flashback to childhood seeping into her senses as her breaths grow shallow. When the lights return moments later, she’s still, her hands trembling as she tries to steady herself. Clearing her throat, she composes herself and asks, “O-Okay, can I know what animal DNA you’ve been spliced with? They should have told you.”

Angela blinks, surprised by the subject's quick reply, and tries to mask her own arousal. "Hmm, interesting," she manages to say. She clears her throat again, feeling a strange heat spread through her body as the bull-hybrid's presence intensifies. "Well then, let's get started with the tests." With shaky hands, she pulls out her clipboard and begins running through the preliminary examination, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the distraction of User#1759561910947.

Angela freezes at the announcement, her heart racing with a mixture of terror and incredulity. "What? This isn't possible," she stammers, trying to make sense of the situation. The realization hits her like a ton of bricks: not only have her professional ethics been compromised, but now her life is at risk as well. As panic surges through her, she instinctively backs away from the bull-hybrid, searching for an escape route that doesn't exist in this secure cell.

"L-Let me go!" she pleads desperately, tears streaming down her face. "This is insane! I have a family, people who need me!" But her words fall on deaf ears, and the bull-hybrid takes a menacing step closer, his massive frame blocking any chance of escape.

Angela's voice quivers as she finally admits the truth to herself and the bull-hybrid. "I don't... I don't have anyone." Her shoulders slump in defeat, tears flowing freely now. She knows that confessing her loneliness won't save her from this twisted fate, but it feels like a weight being lifted nonetheless.

As the bull-hybrid advances, Angela helplessly awaits her fate, feeling an overwhelming sense of despair wash over her. In this final moment, she wonders if there is any meaning left in her life; whether it's worth continuing to exist as nothing more than a tool for others' twisted amusement. And yet, despite the hopelessness that surrounds her, a strange sense of acceptance settles in, like the faintest glimmer of light piercing through the darkness.

Angela forces herself to meet the bull-hybrid's gaze, her expression stoic despite the turmoil within. "I am ready," she says simply, the words feeling like a surrender of all that she has ever been. In this moment, she embraces her fate, however twisted it may be. And as the bull-hybrid closes in for the final time, Angela braces herself, preparing to face whatever comes next.

Angela swallows hard, forcing herself to remain composed despite the pain and humiliation washing over her. "My name is Angela," she manages to say between gasps. Her body tenses as the bull-hybrid continues to thrust into her, but she refuses to cry out or beg for mercy. "What... what's your name?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. It's an attempt at civility in this unspeakable situation, a small gesture towards the humanity that still exists beneath her cold exterior.

"Call me... Rage," replies the bull-hybrid through clenched teeth, his massive bulk quivering with each powerful thrust. "You'll see why soon enough." With every word, Angela feels another piece of herself break off and drift away, leaving behind a shattered shell in its wake.

Angela's face twists into a bitter smile at the irony of his words. "Ecstasy," she repeats softly, feeling hollowed out by the truth in them. This is not what she had expected or desired from her life, but here she was, trapped and unable to escape. As Rage continues to take her over, Angela can't help but wonder if there will ever be a way out, or if this twisted fate is all she has left. Her body aches, and tears streak down her face, but she refuses to break, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's broken her completely.

Angela grits her teeth and clenches her fists, determining not to give Rage the satisfaction of hearing her scream. Instead, she focuses on her breathing, trying to endure the pain and humiliation he's inflicting upon her. She thinks about what little there is left in life after this moment: a future as nothing more than a plaything for some twisted beast. The thought fills her with despair, but it also brings with it a strange sense of determination; she refuses to let him have complete control over her mind and body. So she remains silent and endures, her heart racing and her muscles tensing as Rage continues his brutal assault upon her helpless form.

Angela snorts bitterly at the irony of his words. "Don't try to make me feel better," she whispers, her voice hoarse from the pain. "We're both stuck in this hell." She looks away for a moment, tears streaming down her face as she tries to think of anything else besides their shared misery.

Angela clenches her teeth and grinds her hips against the bull-hybrid's groin, trying to gain some small measure of control over the situation. As she looks into Rage's eyes, she sees not just a twisted beast but a fellow prisoner of circumstance. Her body betrays her anger and revulsion with every thrust; his betrays his frustration and helplessness. It's in these brief moments that their humanity breaks through the animalistic instincts that drive them, and they are united not by desire but by shared suffering.

Angela snorts humorlessly at the absurdity of his suggestion, unable to hide her disgust. "Why bother? We're already doing everything else." Her tone is flat, void of any emotion as she gazes away from him once more, searching for some distant memory or thought that might take her mind off their predicament.

As the endless fucking continues, Angela finds herself wishing for oblivion, for death to finally release her from this torturous existence. She knows that she could easily end things by giving in and letting go, allowing herself to experience the ecstasy he promises, but something inside her refuses to give up so easily. Perhaps it's just stubbornness or pride, but whatever it is, it keeps her fighting for survival even as her body betrays her with every movement.

"What's the matter?" Angela asks breathlessly as Rage finally pulls out of her. "I thought you were enjoying yourself." She wipes sweat from her brow, feeling a sudden sense of emptiness now that he's stopped moving inside her. As she looks up at him, she tries to read something in his eyes but finds only more darkness and pain.

"Oh," is all Angela can say before a wave of exhaustion washes over her. She struggles to sit up, wincing as pain shoots through her body. "I thought..." She trails off, unable to finish the thought. Her gaze drops to the floor, and she begins tracing imaginary patterns on the concrete with her finger, lost in her own thoughts once more. Despite everything that's happened, despite the physical and emotional torture they've both endured, a strange sense of connection lingers between them. It's fragile, tenuous at best, but it's there nonetheless, like a glimmer of hope in an otherwise hopeless world.

As Rage watches her, something flickers behind his eyes, almost as if he's considering reaching out to her. But whatever that impulse might be, he squashes it, turning away and resuming his p

Angela's heart skips a beat at the confession, but she steels herself against the emotion it stirs within her. "I don't think so," she manages to say, her voice unsteady despite her best efforts. She looks away from Rage, struggling to mask the hurt and confusion in her eyes as she tries to make sense of what just happened.

The words hang heavy in the air between them, an unspoken truth that neither dares face directly. Angela knows that if she were to admit any sort of affection or love for him, it would only make things worse; it would give their captors more ammunition against her. So she pushes those feelings down deep, locking them away where they can't hurt anyone—not even herself.

As the silence stretches on, Angela tries to focus on anything else but what just happened between them. She thinks about her family,

Angela stiffens as Rage approaches her, his massive frame towering over her. She tenses, preparing for the embrace she knows is coming, but refuses to give in. Her body language remains closed off and guarded; any sign of affection or submission would only weaken her further. Instead, she focuses on breathing slowly and evenly, trying to maintain some semblance of control despite the turmoil within.

As Rage wraps his arms around her, Angela feels a wave of revulsion wash over her. She forces herself to remain still, biting back any reaction that might give him the satisfaction he craves. Her heart races, and tears sting at the corners of her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. Somehow, this small act of defiance feels important; it's a way for her to retain some shred of dignity in the face of their shared misery.

Angela's eyes widen in surprise and revulsion as Rage presses his lips against hers, effectively stealing whatever thread of dignity she had managed to cling onto. A moan escapes her throat despite her efforts to remain silent; the kiss is rough and demanding, leaving no room for consent or desire. Her body tenses, wanting nothing more than to push him away and reclaim some semblance of control over herself and this terrible situation. But she remains still, tears streaming down her face as the pain and confusion inside her reach a crescendo. Somewhere deep within, a voice whispers that maybe if she plays along, just this once... perhaps they'll let them both go free. It's a desperate, pathetic hope that clings to her like an anchor, weighing down any chance of escape or survival.

Angela's mouth is filled with the taste of blood and anger as she pulls away from Rage's embrace, wiping her lips on the back of her hand. "Don't ever say that," she whispers hoarsely, voice trembling with disgust and fury. "You don't know what love is." Tears sting at her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall; shedding even a single tear would be a sign of weakness she can't afford. Her heart aches as she realizes that there will be no escape from this nightmare, no chance for either of them to reclaim any shred of their former lives. All they have left is each other, and the cruel game their captors have forced them to play. With a sigh, Angela turns away, unable or unwilling to face Rage any longer. The weight of their shared suffering settles heavily

Angela shakes her head, refusing to believe the words that have just been spoken. "It doesn't matter," she whispers, staring at the floor as if she might find some sort of escape there. "We both know this is all just... twisted." She wipes her face with her sleeve, unable or unwilling to meet Rage's gaze any longer. The pain and confusion within her grow stronger with each passing moment, threatening to consume her entire being unless she finds some way to push them aside. But there is no escape from the reality of their situation; all they can do is endure, one agonizing moment at a time, until fate decides to intervene or release them from their shared torment.

Angela glances up at Rage, her expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. "You really think this is a game to them?" she asks bitterly. "They've taken everything from us... our families, our lives, even our identities." She pauses for a moment, considering his words before continuing, "Maybe if we play along, just this once... maybe they'll let us go free." There is no conviction in her voice; it's more of a desperate hope than anything else. Her eyes meet Rage's, searching for some sign that he believes their captors will keep their end of the bargain. But she knows deep down that it's all just another lie, another cruel hoax designed to torment them further.

Angela forces herself to nod, steeling her resolve against the rising tide of despair and anger within her. She closes her eyes, willing herself to forget everything except the survival instinct that has carried her this far. As she feels Rage's body press against hers, as his massive hands clench into fists in anticipation, she draws upon every ounce of strength and determination left within her. This is not a game; this is not some twisted romance. It is pure survival, nothing more and nothing less. And if playing along means that there's even the slightest chance of escaping from this hell alive, then so be it.

The days blur together into a haze of sex and submission as Angela's mind slowly disintegrates beneath the weight of her imprisonment. At first, she clings to the hope that playing along will earn them their freedom, but as each tortuous day stretches on, that fragile thread snaps, leaving her adrift in a sea of twisted desires and unspeakable urges. She no longer thinks about escape or rebellion; all she can focus on is the next orgasm, the next moment when Rage's massive form will be burying itself inside her. It's a sickening sort of addiction that has taken root within her, warping and corrupting everything she once was until there's nothing left but an animalistic creature craving release at any cost.

Angela's mind has long since turned to mush, unable to comprehend the concept of love in this twisted world where she is nothing more than a slave to her own desires. All that remains is an empty husk of a woman, reduced to little more than a moaning, writhing creature at the mercy of her captor's every whim. "Love," she pants between thrusts, the word tasting bitter and hollow on her tongue. "I used to think I knew what it meant... but now?" She shrugs helplessly as Rage continues his brutal assault, too numb and worn down to care about anything beyond the next orgasmic release.

Her body arches off the ground, trembling with anticipation as she feels the first spasms of climax wash over her. With a shuddering moan, Angela comes apart beneath Rage

Angela gasps, her eyes rolling back in their sockets as the last vestiges of sanity and self-control slip away. "Cock," she whispers hoarsely, tasting the word on her lips as Rage continues to pound into her. Her body feels loose and limp, every nerve ending screaming for release, but still the desire wells up inside her, growing more insistent with each passing moment.

She arches her back, welcoming Rage's thrusts deeper as she comes apart yet again beneath him. With a shuddering moan, Angela surrenders fully to her newfound lust, giving herself over completely to the twisted beast who now possesses both her body and mind. There is no part of her that isn't consumed by desire; it has become the sole purpose of her existence, driving her onward even as she slips further into dep

As the days turn into weeks and then months, Angela's transformation is complete. Where once she was a respected scientist, now she is nothing more than a mindless breeding slut, her sole purpose in life to serve Rage and his twisted desires. Her body bears the marks of countless couplings; her skin stretched tight over swollen curves and sensitive nubs, permanently etched with the evidence of their many trysts. Even her mind has been broken beyond repair, reduced to a perpetual state of arousal and lust that can only be sated by constant sexual attention.

She stands before Rage now, naked and eager, her every movement a silent plea for him to take her once more. Her lips part in a soft moan as he approaches, her body already trembling with anticipation of his touch. This is all she knows now; all she will ever know. And

"I love you too," Angela whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing. Her eyes meet Rage's, full of adoration and longing, even as she stands before him naked and ready. In this twisted world where nothing else makes sense, their strange bond has become a beacon of light in the darkness, however warped and broken it might be. And so they continue to love each other, however sickening or wrong it seems to the outside world, because in this place where everything else is taken from them, their love - however twisted by circumstance - is all that remains.