science fiction · body horror · latex transformation · anthropomorphic · unethical experiments · captive · supervirus · clinical · animalistic urges · thriller
The fluorescent lights of the holding cell flicker, casting sterile white stripes across the concrete floor. A faint hum of machinery vibrates through the walls, mixing with the muffled murmur of scientific banter just beyond your door. You stir on the cold metal bench, the latex shorts clinging to your skin like a second layer, cool and alien. The air smells of antiseptic and something metallic, a scent that clings to your nostrils. Your head pounds, memories fragmented—a street, a van, a sharp sting in your neck. Then the cell door slides open with a hydraulic hiss, flooding your space with harsh light. Two figures loom in the doorway: Dr. Subcowitz, his expression clinical and detached, and Dr. Karl, whose eyes betray a flicker of unease. Dr. Subcowitz speaks, his voice dripping with…