Fated Scales: Choices
Fated Scales
A novel by Cheetahs(Aryn Storm)
Chapter Description: As his state of mind continues its descent down the downward spiral, Alex mulls over the choices left to him until his inevitable transformation sweeps them away from his reach.
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Chapter 7: Choices
Alex no longer cared which day it was, for he no longer kept track of it. Every time he woke up, he felt a bit...less than who he was before he went to sleep. He began losing bits and pieces of himself, and the worst thing was that he couldn't remember what these bits and pieces used to be. Emotions, thoughts, memories mingled in his head, forming a chaotic whirlwind that his faltering willpower couldn't hope to tame. Whatever life this was, it didn't feel like living. More like...existing.
And it all began to spiral out of control since the day Doran had pleasured him in the pool.
If that could even be called pleasure. Alex still shuddered at the memory of how his heart threatened to explode, at how the world dimmed and flickered before his very eyes. He had felt like dying, but Doran, in his arrogance, had spoken to him in that lofty way of his and laughed. He had laughed so loud, Alex' ears still rung with his phantasmal voice.
"Bssstarrrd," Alex mumbled, his slit-shaped ebony pupils shrinking to a thin line as the sun broke through the layer of puffy clouds, its shafts caressing Alex' twisted frame. "It hisss follt.. Hiss. Forr everyfing."
Once upon a time, Alex used to make his threats known to Doran through crisp and clear words. The more his snout lengthened in unison with his bifurcated tongue, the blurrier his verbal communication became. This new tongue was thin and elongated, meant to stretch and access the particularly tricky areas of a feral dragon's body. It was never supposed to facilitate speech, for feral dragons had no need of words.
Alex, however, wasn't a feral dragon yet, which made this change yet another redundancy piled on top of many, many others. What good were stiff wings that barely tilted to the sides, let alone flap? What use served a half-grown tail, thick and awkward? What purpose did his horns fulfill, other than destroy his pillow and spread fluff all over his face?
Alex had replaced his pillow with a folded blanket for the sake of convenience. He had also turned his bed into a couch, so that the backrest kept him from rolling onto his back and pass out from the sheer agony that came with putting pressure onto his slowly developing appendages.
He didn't tell that to Doran. He hadn't told him any details about the transformation since the pool incident, other than nod his head and tell him the transformation was still going. What was the point of confessing his feelings--his true feelings--to a man blinded by dreams and ambition? He would just shrug it off, chuckle, or pet Alex on the shoulder and give him one of his ineffective pep talks about the bright future lying ahead of them.
As if words alone could take back what he did to him; what he put his mate, as he liked to call Alex, through...
I should just man up and tell him about it. I don't care about his reaction. I want him to listen to me, to show me, just once, that his affection for me is there, Alex thought. His mind, scarred as it grew from all the constant pain and suffering and mood shifts, had retained its clarity, at the very least. His words sounded right, unlike the unintelligible gibberish that soared past Alex' scaly lips these days, proof that his transformation began to turn him into something primal, ancient.
Mindless.
Alex took a deep breath, tightened his jaws, and clenched his fists for as much as his shortening fingers and retracting thumb allowed.
No. I can't take this anymore. I am going to tell him about it. Not tomorrow, not the day after it, but today. He has to know. He needs to understand that a feral transformation is not what I want anymore. It's not only painful, but terribly impractical.
Confessing this honest and sensible thought to Doran was the only reason Alex kept going these days. He constantly refined his words in his head, and he had endured through his transformation with the sole purpose of backing his words with solid proof as to why this whole thing wasn't feasible. Who in the right mind would want an animal for a mate? A beast not capable of speech, but growls and roars. The novelty would soon wear off, and Doran would realize how dull life could be when your significant other lacked the means to reciprocate his affection.
And that wasn't all! Doran needed a discussion partner, one that could verbally agree with his ideas and tell him how brilliant his discoveries were. He needed somebody to cook for him when he returned home from the office, somebody to play video games, watch TV, and go in vacation with. A feral dragoness couldn't do either of that.
An anthro dragoness, on the other hand, retained all the benefits of the human body while being granted the perks associated with the dragon status.
Simply thinking of it sparked Alex' excitement, a soothing wave of tingles traversing his frame from snout tip and down to his very toes. Energy flared within his limbs, melting down the apathy that fettered Alex to his bed, allowing him to swing out of the couch, stretch his gnarled body, and grin in that weird, snarly, toothy way of his. As far as he was concerned, starting with today, his days as a scaled abomination were numbered.
To get one last taste of his disgusting self, Alex walked in front of a mirror, his naked, misshapen body failing to make him cringe today. A few injections and a software recalibration to the nanobots managing his transformation was all it took to change him from a lumbering monstrosity into an elegant dragoness. All he had to do was get Doran on his side, and with a body like this, Alex felt pretty confident, for he began to look downright monstrous.
His neck had picked up more than a few inches over the passing week, growing abnormally long for a bipedal creature. His hair began to recede from his scalp, gathering between his horns, flowing down his neck and halfway along his spine to form a mane. The same fur also grew along the edges of his cheeks, its fluffy consistency and pristine white color the only beautiful thing about him.
Now that his face angled forward, he looked half horse, half human, half dragon, a chimera that defied logic with its twisted appearance. Although his jaws became angular and his nostrils turned into slits sitting at the forefront of his snout, his brow remained broad, his ears wide rather than pointy, his wings nightmarish appendages, bearing a wan grey color, soft and fleshy to the touch.
The most frightening change was also the most recent one. Now that the light grey plates lining his chest and belly began to harden, his crotch stood out like a sore thumb, boasting the nothingness that had swallowed what made him a man--what made him human.
At least that was how Alex called that disheveled, disturbing cleft. Why couldn't he have a small, elegant, barely noticeable slit like Doran? Why were his folds so thick and fleshy and, worst of all, open? They exposed his vulnerable pink insides to Doran's playful eyes, to the smooth yet infuriatingly dry texture of the bed sheets, to--well, everything! He tried squeezing his soon to be pussy shut, but the soft, leathery scales coating the upper portion of his folds refused to fuse together.
Alex gave up trying to make this work. With three fingered hands that boasted sharp, ivory claws at the end of each finger, he risked causing more damage than anything. As a cruel tease, his thumbs began to shrink and drift away from his hand, halfway on their way to his wrists, where they would form a useless dewclaw, no doubt.
Otherwise, why would his thumbs shrink to such a tiny size?
His feet had suffered the same fate, adjusting to a digitigrade locomotion supported by long, nimble toes that had improved mobility over his previous, stubby ones, able to grab and curl around things. Alex would have lifted a leg to test out the extent of his foot's dexterity, but his legs became haunches, and his back had arched a few more inches forward since his last self-inspection. The only thing that still kept him onto two legs was that thick slab of meat unworthy to be called a tail. More like an excess limb...
To conclude his mirror visit, Alex opened his maw and poked his pink, bifurcated tongue past the rows of sharp, ivory teeth, each end fully prehensile. No wonder speaking became such a chore!
Not for much longer, Alex reminded himself, walking towards the door with slow, elaborate steps, arms and useless wing frames stretched to the sides to help maintain his frail balance. Without a thumb to help him grab things, he had to grip the door knob with both hands and twist it, a small, menial task that he used to execute instinctively.
At least his idea to take over one of the dormitories situated downstairs paid off. The mere sight of a staircase filled him with painful memories of stumbling and rolling down to the bottom, his impatience with his misshapen body having bested him on more than one occasion. How ironic, that falling down the stairs represented an accurate analogy to what this transformation entailed. As a human, he would climb down the stairs without any issues. As a freak, he crashed to the bottom, groaning and growling and whimpering, thrashing and in pain. The fall summed up his life pretty well.
Not for much longer.
Although he wobbled and swayed like a drunkard on his stunted haunches, Alex slowly but surely made his way into the kitchen, where a platter of cheese and bacon and a hearty steak waited for him.
Fucking Doran. He couldn't even be arsed to come downstairs and cook him a proper lunch. How typical of him. Alex opened his maw, a yell--or a roar, depending on what would come out--building within the back of his throat. He almost unleashed it, were it not for second thoughts.
Angering Doran with trifles such as this one risked souring his mood, which in turn, lessened Alex' chance to bring him over to his side. Left with no choice but accept Doran's treatment, Alex gently lowered himself upon a stool, poking his awkwardly long claws at the fork.
"Khhmon khhmon khhmon," he mumbled, scooping at the fork with a hand while trying to grip it with the other.
It didn't work.
Alex hissed, but didn't give up. This second time around, he held a waiting palm--paw--under the edge of the table, confident that the fork would fall straight into it.
The fork slipped past his fingers before he had the chance to grip it.
"Grarrrrrrrrrrrr," Alex' simmering growl rumbled in his throat. To hell with all this! After looking around and perking his ears to make sure Doran wasn't on his way downstairs, Alex grabbed the edges of the table, thrust his head forward and began eating like an animal, using his teeth and tongue to direct the food into his maw. He had been doing this for a while, and always in private. Although it provided a convenient way to eat without the hassle of using cutlery, this savage way of gobbling down food never failed to extract its toll on Alex, chipping away at his humanity one sliver at a time.
While finishing his meal the only way he could, Alex pictured Doran. He imagined him sitting cross legged at the table, knife in one hand and fork in the other, gracefully portioning his steak, skewering its bits, and directing them towards his mouth, his head held aloft. He could have forsaken manners and eat like a dragon himself, but unlike Alex, he was an anthro, the perfect blend that brought two different and antithetical worlds together, that of the human society and a dragon's instinctual nature.
Doran...even in Alex' mind, he had that smug, satisfied, perfect face. Now that his transformation was complete, Doran actually looked like a dragon, his physiognomy reflecting his reptilian heritage. Alex had but close his eyes to see what perfection incarnate looked like.
Unlike Alex, Doran had an elegant, triangular head, with a low brow and a medium-length, slim snout. His jaws had that firm, gaunt look to them, the onyx color of his fully developed scales a shade darker than Alex'. They had the pebbly texture specific to an adult dragon specimen, much harder and opaque compared to Alex' poor imitation of a dragon's hide. Two black, tapered horns jutted out the back of his skull, curving outwards in soft, most pleasant ways. And the horns weren't the only thing that looked great about Doran! His eyes, just like in Alex' case, shifted colors, shining with a powerful azure intensity, cold and deep.
As opposed to Alex, Doran also liked to clad that fancy draconic body with all manner of clothes. The one that imprinted upon Alex' mind was the outfit he wore during his last meeting with Jim, a custom made tuxedo, tailored to fit around his fully developed and usable wings. They remained tucked to his back, usually, making Alex wonder if he had ever tried to fly so far. Probably not, given that his transformation had finished quite recently.
The indigo color of the suit worked well in conjunction with his eyes, as did the cornflower blue tie and white shirt that contrasted with his dark features. For an anthro, his limbs and hands suffered minimal changes, nothing as drastic as the one Alex now faced. Doran's fingers simply turned slimmer, longer, graceful, ending with short, dark grey claws. His feet suffered the most significant metamorphosis, adapting to a digitigrade skeleton, similar to those of a dinosaur, only with four toes instead of three, and no dewclaw to inconvenience him.
How unfair, that his very feet already look more feral than Alex'. His tail shared the same fate, growing into a long, sinuous, beautiful thing that flicked back and forth, fully prehensile and neat.
Alex pushed his empty platter aside, dispersing that image of Doran from his mind, walking--stumbling a little, too--on his way to the fridge.
He stretched a paw towards the handle...
And stopped it in midair once his eyes fell upon the note glued to the fridge, scribbled with Doran's neat handwriting.
"Out for a walk. Enjoy the house and all that it offers. I suggest you take a nap after finishing your meal. The more you sleep, the sooner this whole ordeal ends."
Cold fingers seized Alex' spine. He shuddered, his wing frames rattling, his stubby tail curling to the side, and his claws pressing against the marble tiles of the kitchen. For a moment, Alex' mind turned blank, every thought fleeing away from the growing panic that blossomed within him.
Doran never left the house, for Doran had promised Alex that he shall never leave his side, and that he would always be here, in case Alex needed him.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, exhaled it, then took another. Emotions of all kinds flooded his being, threatening to unravel him, battering at the mental barrier that protected him from another one of those terrible breakdowns.
He's probably testing out the flight capabilities of his body, Alex tried to justify his absence. I can't expect him to babysit me for every waking moment of the day. I'm not that helpless.
Yes. Yes he was. Deep down, Alex knew exactly what sort of cloth he was cut from, but today, he simply shrugged his shoulders, grabbed the note, crumpled it into his paw, then turned towards the exit of the kitchen. No point in dwelling on things that would soon come to an end. No reason to think ill of Doran, especially when he would be the one to heed his request and do the necessary arrangements to grant Alex the transformation into an anthro dragoness.
Or, if worst came to worst, he would at least give Alex the possibility to regain his human body, right?
His stomach twisted at the thought, yet a part of him filled with relief at the possibility of going back to something safe, familiar, worthy of being called a person.
True, a human's diluted senses paled in comparison to the wonders of a dragon body, but Alex had never, in his darkest nightmares, expected reality to be so gruesome and unforgiving. How naïve he must have been, to look forward to becoming a glorified pet...
Alex trudged over to an armchair to sit over its edge, unable to lounge into it thanks to his wings and tail. During moments like these, where he leaned against the armchair's edge like a drunkard, reverting back to a human didn't seem that bad. It didn't seem bad at all...
Alex' gaze became distant and his senses dull as his mind churned with various ways to break this matter to Doran in eloquent and persuasive ways. The first required nothing but brutal honesty. All Alex had to do was mention the constant pain, show Doran his twisted body, point him towards his monstrous cleft that had opened up like a spring blossom, only infinitely uglier. If Doran showed reluctance, Alex would beg him to call a psychologist to attest to the pressure the transformation exerted upon Alex' mind. An expert's opinion should convince Doran of the frailty of Alex' mental condition, and he would have no choice but to follow through with the necessary preparations.
"Mmmm," Alex hummed at the thought, the corners of his mouth wrinkling in displeasure. Doran had ensured to keep this transformation on a low profile, going as far as to feign being tipsy around Jim just to toss the blame on some random dude in case Jim admitted to somebody he had had contact with an onyx anthro dragon. If he didn't trust Jim, a person he vetted personally, chances were that he wouldn't go through the trouble of doing the same for a psychologist.
That left Alex with the second option, so daunting it shook his being. His mind reeled at the implications that might ripple out of it, and his stomach lurched and tightened with a thousand knots. Was Alex ready to put his relationship with Doran to the ultimate test? Should he openly and unequivocally reject his gift?
He had but ponder on how this last month had passed in order to nod to himself and steel his mind against the crippling doubt that began strangling him from the inside.
No, I can't, I won't, Alex tried to convince himself. Humanity is not worth jack if Doran disposes of me. I'll be nobody. I'll have nobody, and I would rather see this transformation through than beg Doran to undo it.
More conflicted than ever, Alex fell into a pensive state, shutting himself from the world, brooding over his fate. It all looked like a 'pick your poison' scenario where, no matter how Alex played this out, the result risked hurtling him into a life that, for the time being, he couldn't fathom.
I'm faced with three choices, Alex broke it down. Convince Doran to let me become an anthro and be the wife that he never truly wanted. Beg him to revert my transformation altogether and part ways with him, or sacrifice my body and my sanity for his sake.
In every choice, Doran won and Alex lost. How fair...
Just as he was about to go in-depth with all of these choices and mull them over, Doran's faint, unmistakable voice greeted his ears. Alex perked his head...
And yelped when a second, heavier, more somber voice replied to Doran.
Jim.
Alex scrambled onto his feet, his jittery gaze dashing across the room, looking for something--anything--to toss over his bare body. When he failed to find clothing or at least a blanket to wrap himself with, he began his awkward shuffle towards his dormitory, heart pounding in his chest.
The voices grew louder as his maladroit paws fumbled around the doorknob, his rising panic levels interfering with Alex' ability to properly control his alienish fingers...toes...whatever the fuck they were.
A key rolled into the socket of the twin doors that led into the house, shortly before Doran stepped inside, his claws pattering onto the naked tiles.
"Ah, Alex," he said with his most jovial voice. "Let me give you a hand with that."
"Ahm fine," he mumbled, refusing to turn around. He had never felt more powerless and more ashamed than he did now. His claws kept sliding off the doorknob, short huffs and silent whimpers making his distress known while Doran slowly shuffled towards him. Meanwhile, Jim must have watched them both with a judgmental eye, standing in the doorway with his arms knitted around his chest. Alex tried not to think of him, his opinions or his reaction as he fought back the panic that overtook him.
"Step aside. I'll get that for you," Doran whispered, but to Alex, his encroaching presence made his voice sound more like a shout. Why was he so close to him? Why did he have to speak? Why did he never listen?!
"Said ahm fine!" Alex exploded, twisting around to face Doran's surprised expression and Jim's nonchalant mug. He had his hands thrust into the pockets of his brown jacket, looking around the place with feigned disinterest. Doran remained rooted in place, his tail curling around one of his legs, azure eyes bearing into Alex' timid, golden ones.
"I believe you. If you would let me get the door for you, Jim and I will hang around while you rest a bit, hmm?" He nodded in a reassuring gesture, hoping to seize control of this situation.
Alex stepped away from the door with slow, elaborate steps, holding both Doran's and Jim's attention. It irked him that, once again, Doran handled things his way, but at least he wouldn't be around while Jim and Doran had their fun. It all went well...
Until Jim's gaze skipped over to the thing nestled between Alex' naked haunches, eliciting another whimper from the soon to be dragoness as he tried his best to shield his sex from view. His shortening arms allowed none of it, every swing, every push threatening to break his pitiful balance.
Crimson nuances tinted the insides of Alex' ears, the filmy scales on his snout acquiring a violet hue from the riptide of embarrassment that washed over him. Out in the open, with no cover in sight, his nakedness laid bare before Jim's sharp gaze, his stunted arms and rigid tail both failing at saving his integrity.
"Thank you for the offer, Doran, but the last thing I want is to make the kid feel awkward in his own home. Call me if there is anything you need. I'll be at your disposal."
The door to Alex' dormitory clicked open shortly before Doran turned around, bemused, almost rattled that Jim refused to go along with his plan. "Come on, Jim. Alex doesn't mind your presence, unless you mind him. I invited you here, after all."
Invited him here?!
Ice bloomed within Alex' veins, rooting him in place. He didn't even know where to start, what to do, or how to escape this stressful situation before he snapped. His head pounded, his wing joints and the base of his growing tail began to throb with growing pain, and it became increasingly hard for him to maintain balance on two legs, let alone concentrate.
He faltered, fell forward...
And landed on his forepaws, in front of the very people he had desperately tried to hide this animalistic behavior from.
Jim looked away, shifting his hands into his pockets, taking a deep breath to collect himself. Although he masked it damn well, he was obviously disturbed by Alex' development, while Doran smiled.
He actually smiled!
"I think walking on all fours should feel more comfortable to you at this point. That spine isn't made for bipedal locomotion, you know. Sooner or later, you will have to grow accustomed to it. The transformation is inevitable, Alex. All you have to do is embrace it."
His impassive, azure gaze took in Alex' features, scrutinizing him with the authority of fate itself.
Alex flinched. To him, having Doran speak of such intimate topics like the transformation right in front of Jim became unbearably awkward, to the point where he teetered on the edge of precipice, one step away from falling into the pit of despair that threatened to swallow him.
He tried distancing himself from Doran, shuffling away in that maladroit way of his, crawling towards a couch big enough to hide his misshapen form.
"Would you like to accompany us on a walk, Alex? Presuming you feel strong enough for it. It's scientifically proven that sunlight quickens the development of your scales."
A walk? A walk?! When all he did for the past two weeks was stagger around like a bumbling fool?!
Alex couldn't take this cruel joke anymore. Something horrendous had grown within him day by harrowing day, gorging on his suffering until it burgeoned to unimaginable proportions, begging to be unleashed. For now, Alex' self-control held it at bay, but the mental dam that kept that part of him in check began to crack and splinter. Thorns began to fetter his heart, puncturing it, leaving tiny holes through which all the goodness he had ever held within began to trickle out of him.
"Plis, plis donth. Leaf me alon. Leaf--leaff me...alonnnn..." he trailed off, averting his gaze from Doran, snarling and growling and sniffling, a cacophony of shame and sorrow that Jim took as his cue to turn around and head over to the door.
"The last thing I want is give the kid a hard time. Thanks again, Doran."
Alex didn't see Doran's reaction, for he stared at the ground, regulating his breath, gulping down his apprehension, doing everything he could to keep himself from unraveling. Even so, he noticed Doran's outstretched arm at the fringes of his vision. He heard, against his will, those eloquent words, spoken in a deliberate manner.
"Isolation isn't the answer to anything. The more time he spends on his own, the more he broods over his condition. What we have to do is challenge him, stimulate his mind, so that he starts to accept his new body, his new role, his new mindset."
Challenge him? Accept? Accept what? That no matter what he would say to Doran, no matter what he would do, his fate was already sealed, just because Doran said so?!
Alex clawed at the couch, tearing holes and gashes into it, trying to find proper purchase on the velvety material with his useless, three toed paws. At least his claws sunk deep into the foam, allowing him to hoist himself onto his legs, arms wrapped around the backrest for support.
"Sso, wath you ssaying tae me ist thath all thith is abut sthelf-acctheptance..." Alex paused to bite back a growl at how pathetically retarded he sounded, finding it terribly difficult but necessary to look Doran in the eyes as he spoke. No matter how hard his head pounded, Alex reached deep within himself, channeling all his might in one last attempt to reach for the dim spark of humanity that he still had left.
"Thith whole thing ist abut--abuut selthf-acc..acceptance. Abouuttt com...cuming to terrrms with all of this."
Better. He sounded better. Definitely improving. Then again, anger and resentment directed at Doran always had that effect on Alex.
"Precisely," Doran said, strategically positioning himself between Jim and the door to keep him from leaving without his consent. "The truth is, Alex, that we can't change the past. What's done is done. We got to own our actions, but acting as your own judge, jury and executioner only ensures that you are going to repeat the cycle." He allowed his breath to roll out of his nostrils slowly, calmly, before licking his muzzle. "You are stronger than this, Alex. Don't give in. Not now. Not when you are so close."
What cycle? There was no cycle! All that existed in Alex' world was pain, regret, and towering over it all, the overwhelming shame at putting himself through all this.
And for what?! So that he could indulge Doran's perversions? So that Doran could hurl him onto his back and proverbially fuck him whenever he desired?!
Alex' lips pulled up into a snarl, his features scrunching, emphasizing his already monstrous looks. "Donth. Donth say eet."
Then again, when had Doran ever listened?
"Worrying--agonizing--over a choice that you have willingly made does not give meaning to anything. Accept your actions. Come to terms with the present, so that you can shed the burden of your old life and soar into your new one," Doran said calmly, dipping his head in a hopeful nod that might as well have said, "Calm down. I know what's best for you. All you have to do is listen to me."
That shook Alex' resolve. For a brief moment, his churning spite mellowed down, Doran's calm and imposing demeanor stirring something within Alex, a spark of courage that he never knew he possessed.
Maybe he was right. Maybe Alex, in his self-pity and selfishness, had forgotten about the promise he had made to Doran. He had forgotten about his dream of soaring through the skies as a feral dragoness, of sharing Doran's lap, of snuggling under his wing.
If only this fantasy could last. When he looked at his paws, Alex didn't see the feet of a dragon, but his own malformed hands. The useless, crooked appendages that sprouted from his back throbbed with renewed pain, searing spikes of raw agony lashing his developing muscles every time a shiver traversed his frame. His tail couldn't even move properly, and his gnarled back began to hurt something fierce, forcing Alex to lean against the couch--or hug it, more likely.
As soon as his feet shifted, his balance wavered, the weight of his back and overly long neck forcing him to land back onto his paws, so close to the cold embrace of the ground. Humans weren't meant to crawl on all fours like animals, and the longer he stayed like this, the quicker he unraveled. Tears sprung at the corner of his eyes, the nictitating membranes smudging them over his eyes, blurring his vision, regardless of how often he blinked.
"ssthho...sss..so I s..should ss--stop worrying and--and accept?" Alex said, lifting his head towards Doran. He looked taller from Alex' inferior position, the difference in height representative to their relationship. Doran would always keep a mighty, haughty attitude, specific to his status, while Alex' only purpose was to cower before him.
"It's a start," Doran said plainly. "I know it's difficult. No change ever fails to exact its toll, but happiness is not about a lack of problems. It's how you deal with them, Alex."
"So..." Alex said, licking his snout in a quick, apprehensive manner. "You admit th--that no matter whath I do, no matter how much everyfing hurts, or how hard depression hits me, I should just...accept? Because it is all necessary?"
"That is how it works."
Alex snapped. He couldn't hope to keep himself in check, not when Doran looked so blissfully ignorant to his problems.
"That is how it works?" Alex half shouted, half roared. For some reason, his tongue no longer felt sluggish, his mind pouring the last of his humanity into the argument that would end it all. "That's your best answer? You turn me into something that I loathe with every fiber of my being, something that I never wanted to become, and all that I am left to do is pick up the scraps of what used to be my life and...and accept?"
That hit Doran harder than Alex had expected. His featured turned stern all of a sudden, and he signaled Jim to approach, so that he could whisper something in his ear.
"I know you're in pain. We'll revisit this topic later, when you will be more receptive to sensible advice."
No. No they weren't. This was it. This was the end. Since Doran refused to listen to his plea, maybe Jim would. Shame made people like Doran do stupid things, after all.
"No. We are not postponing this," Alex said, trying to be reasonable.
As expected, Doran turned his back to him, leading Jim to the exit.
"No, Jim. Do not leave. Do not fucking leave!" Alex roared. He hurtled forward, leaping in front of them both, a ferocious snarl etched upon his snout.
"You haven't yet listened to what I have to say."
Jim casually straightened his back, looking more bored than distressed.
"Yes, kid? Come on, let it out. I'm all ears."
For the first time in his life, Alex managed to put a chink into Doran's armor. His wings rustled as he folded them tight over his back, claws scratching at his scaled palms as his fingers fought the urge to clench into fists.
"He turned me into this. Forced me into this. He gave me no choice. And now, when I want it all to end--when I want my old life back--all he talks about is acceptance and inevitability. As if I have no word in it!"
Doran shook his head, urging Alex to stop, but there was no more Alex left in him. Whatever he became wrestled the control Alex had once held over his senses, shoving him aside, allowing primal instinct to flare within his eyes, unaltered, unbroken by Doran's control.
"Do you know why I hate this in the first place? Why I would rather die than live one more day in this monstrous body? It's because of him!" He roared at Doran. "He made me his pet against my will! Reduced me to nothing more than a witless beast, always at the mercy of its master. I can't eat, can't move around the house, can't do anything without him. I'm nothing to him but a toy that he uses to cope with his crippling loneliness and sociopathic behavior!"
His words raked Alex' throat raw. He gasped and coughed, every bone in his body rattling under the might of the shivers that overtook him.
"Are you okay with that? You accept? Just because Mr. CTO tells you to? He owns you, Jim. You're his prized pet, just like I am!"
Jim didn't answer. He stepped around Alex, opened the door, stepped outside, then closed it in utter silence, leaving Alex alone with Doran.
"Alyreth, command B, sit."
Alex shrieked in surprise. His limbs turned taut all of a sudden, shifting without his consent, forcing him to sit onto his haunches in a straight, perfect pose. Raw anguish flared within his wing appendages as they stretched to the sides. A searing sting traversed his tail as it tried to curl around a haunch. Every fiber in Alex' body hurt with variable degrees of intensity, strangling the roar he desperately tried to unleash.
"Control yourself. Mind your manners. You're not a beast, but a dragon. Apply yourself."
With that, Doran casually strolled away, oblivious to the spasms wracking Alex' frame, to the jerky twitches of his toes and snout as he tried to free himself from the oppressive and invisible bonds that fettered him to the floor.
As soon as they vanished, Alex crumbled forward, splaying over the ground, gasping for breath. His vision swirled with the shock of betrayal, and that spinning motion hurled Alex into a darkness which he couldn't escape from.
** ***End of Chapter 7*****
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