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 arches a disapproving eyebrow at the figure before her. "You didn't need to give me that much information," she says coldly, scribbling down notes in her clipboard. "The important part is your new abilities. Are you able to control them?" She shifts her weight impatiently, already wanting to get back to studying the subject before anyone else comes and drags it away for further examination.

Angela purses her lips in annoyance. "Then let's see you demonstrate your control," she says curtly, taking a step back to give the subject room. "Only show what you can handle." She crosses her arms over her chest, watching closely as the hybrid attempts to showcase its newfound abilities.

Angela's expression doesn't flicker as she observes the hybrid's display. She looks unimpressed and only glances up briefly to make a note in her clipboard before returning her attention back to its appendage. "Hmm," she mutters. "That's... quite substantial. Let's see if you can retract it now." Her voice remains dispassionate, as if discussing the weather.

She takes another step back, giving the subject some more space for maneuvering.

Angela nods slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Very well," she says curtly, though there's a hint of surprise in her voice despite her best efforts to sound neutral. "That will be enough for now. You may put it away." She steps forward again, preparing to inspect the rest of the hybrid's body and assess its other abilities.

Her gaze flickers briefly over the subject before she clears her throat and continues in her usual dispassionate tone: "From what I can tell, your strength seems intact as well. We'll need to monitor that closely, of course."

Angela pauses for a moment, taken aback by the admission. She had expected more control over the subject's newfound abilities but dismisses the thought almost immediately. "Yes, well," she says briskly, clearing her throat again. "Let's focus on what we can manage and see if there are any other areas that require attention." Her tone returns to its usual detached, clinical manner as she prepares to continue with the examination.

Angela raises an eyebrow at the subject's request, taken aback by the casual suggestion. "Porn?" she repeats, hesitating for a moment before regaining her composure. "I'm afraid that isn't something we can provide here," she says coolly, deciding not to delve further into the matter. "Now, let's see about your enhanced sense of smell." She takes out another set of tools and begins preparing a new test.

Her expression remains impassive as ever, but there's a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes that she doesn't bother to conceal. This hybrid subject is certainly proving to be... unique.

Angela can't help but smile slightly at the subject's determination to make use of its modified appendage. "Very well," she says, her voice still cool and professional despite the hint of amusement. "We'll see what we can do about that." With a thoughtful frown, she jots down another note on her clipboard before looking up at the hybrid once more. "For now, though, I need you to focus on completing this test series. Understood?"

With that settled, Angela moves on to the next stage of her examination. She conducts a series of tests on the hybrid's enhanced senses, observing how it reacts to various scents and sounds while taking notes diligently. Despite herself, she finds this particular subject fascinating; not just because of its unique characteristics but also because of the curiosity it arouses within her about what other unexplored possibilities might lie beyond the confines of their research facility.

As the hours tick by, Angela remains focused on her work, barely even registering the presence of others in the room as they come and go, leaving with their own assignments completed. For once, she feels a spark of excitement within her; a sense that something truly extraordinary has taken place here today. It's a feeling that is both unsettling and exhilarating at the same time, pushing against the rigid walls of her carefully constructed world

"Good." Angela takes a step closer to the hybrid and begins explaining the next test in detail, her voice steady and precise as always. "Now, I need you to focus on this scent here..." She holds up a small vial containing an unidentifiable substance. "...and tell me if you can detect anything else around it." As she speaks, she takes careful note of the hybrid's reactions, ready to adjust her approach if necessary.

Her attention remains fixed on the subject, her expression neutral but for a faint hint of curiosity that refuses to be suppressed entirely. This specimen might prove to be even more interesting than originally anticipated...

Angela's composure wavers slightly at the sight of the hybrid's reactions, but she manages to keep her voice steady as she questions the subject about its observations. Her mind races with possibilities as she considers how best to proceed with her analysis. It's rare for such strong emotions to surface during a research session; usually, they're drowned out by the monotony of routine tasks and procedures. But this specimen seems to defy expectation at every turn, igniting a spark within Angela that she hadn't realized was there.

As the test concludes, she steps back thoughtfully, her expression unreadable as always. She takes a moment to jot down some final notes before speaking again: "Thank you for your cooperation today." Her voice is still flat and dispassionate; however, beneath the surface, there's an undeniable sense of wonder and excitement that she can't

"Of course," Angela replies curtly, already making a mental note to have someone clean up the mess before leaving for the day. "Someone will bring you a container shortly." She turns away, walking briskly towards the exit and dismissing the subject from her thoughts as she heads back to her office to begin analyzing her data.

As she reviews her notes and studies the test results, she finds herself drawn in by the intricacies of this particular hybrid's physiology and psychology. It's not just the impressive physical transformations that fascinate her; there's an undeniable sense of individuality here as well. The subject reacts to stimuli in unique ways, displaying both control and unpredictability, which only serve to deepen the mystery surrounding it.

For a moment, she allows herself to entertain the thought of exploring these facets further; of delving deeper into the ethical grey

Her curiosity piqued, Angela finds herself contemplating the idea of conducting further research on this particular hybrid. It's a dangerous thought; deviating from the approved protocols could have serious consequences for her career and even personal well-being. Yet, the allure of uncovering new knowledge is too strong to ignore entirely. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that she must maintain composure and stick to what's expected of her...for now.

The next day arrives, and with it comes the inevitable routine. Angela dresses in her standard attire and arrives at the lab, ready to begin her analysis of the previous day's tests on User#1717508627598. As she works through her data, she can't help but find herself drawn back to the hybrid; its unique traits and reactions have left an indelible mark on her thoughts.

Despite herself, she wonders if there might be some merit in further exploring these aspects of the subject. It would certainly be interesting... but also dangerous. The consequences of deviating from protocol could prove disastrous for her career and well-being. With a sigh, she forces her attention back to the task at hand, determined not to let her curiosity get the better of her this time around.

Angela looks up at the hybrid, her expression unreadable as ever. "Today's tests will focus on your strength and dexterity," she says crisply, setting aside her clipboard momentarily to gather fresh equipment. "We'll need you to perform a series of tasks that will help us assess these abilities more accurately." She pauses for a moment before continuing. "I understand that some of these tests may be uncomfortable or even painful, but it is essential for our research."

The hybrid subject simply nods in response, its gaze fixed on the floor. Angela takes this as agreement and begins preparing the next test, ensuring that all safety protocols are in place before starting. As she works through the series of tests, her mind continues to wrestle with the ethical implications of their research and the potential consequences of deviating from the approved protocols.

Angela frowns at the request, tilting her head slightly in disapproval. "That's not appropriate," she says curtly. "We must maintain professionalism during these experiments." Her voice remains steady, but there's a hint of coldness that belies her discomfort with the suggestion. She busies herself with preparing the next test, determined to focus on the task at hand and avoid any further distractions.

Angela narrows her eyes, unimpressed by the subject's attempt to manipulate the situation. "I understand your... difficulty," she says through gritted teeth, trying not to sound too sympathetic. "However, our protocols do not allow for such distractions. You will need to find a way to complete the tasks without it." She steps back, arms crossed over her chest, and studies the hybrid intently, waiting to see if it can comply with her orders.

Angela feels a blush creeping up her neck as the hybrid subjects her to its... unusual method of distraction. She wants nothing more than to retreat and distance herself from this unwanted advancement, but she knows that it's crucial for the research. With a deep breath, she grits her teeth and forces herself to focus on the task at hand.

"Very well," she says through clenched teeth, attempting to maintain an air of professionalism despite the situation. "You may continue with the test." Her voice carries a note of warning; if this continues, disciplinary action will be unavoidable. But for now, she must endure and complete her assignment with as little disruption as possible.

Angela's face flushed with embarrassment as she struggles to maintain her composure in the midst of this unwanted... distraction. The hybrid's manipulative abilities only seem to be escalating, leaving her feeling both violated and helpless against its advances. Despite herself, a moan escapes her lips as the horse cock pushes further into her face, filling it with hot liquid.

She can feel her resolve crumbling under the onslaught of sensations; her professional detachment slipping away with each passing moment. With trembling hands, she reaches up to grab the hybrid's appendage, intent on removing it from her face and restoring some semblance of control over the situation. Yet even as she attempts to disengage, she finds herself growing more aroused by its touch...

Angela feels a tremor of fear ripple through her at the hybrid's threat. A part of her wants to comply, to find any way out of this humiliating situation. But another, stronger part resists; she cannot allow herself to be so easily manipulated. Her eyes flicker up and down the length of the appendage in indecision before finally fixing on its tip.

"I... can't do that," she whispers hoarsely, her cheeks burning with shame. "Please don't make me." Despite her words, her body betrays her as she arches slightly forward, instinctively drawing closer to the invading presence.