Heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I split the upper half of my suit off me in a single, jerky motion. The material tears with a satisfying rip, revealing the source of my growing unease.
My skin, once a cinnamon-hued canvas, smooth and soft—my personal trademark, thank you very fucking much—with the occasional dark freckle smattering has been replaced by strange, oval markings that spread across my stomach and sides. They resemble the spots on the creature Drasuk tried to hug into submission.
Numbly, I poke one of them and it's a texture not too dissimilar from what I imagine a rhino would feel like.
A strangled cry escapes my lips, fear clawing its way up my throat.
"What the actual fiery pit in the ground?"
My voice, usually laced with a sardonic edge, is a high-pitched squeak.
My frantic gaze darts around until it lands on Drasuk. He's up ahead, partly turned, frozen mid step. His spikes are twitching in what might be concern, which may or may not have made me happy in normal circumstances.
This is not normal.
Instead, I want to verbally eviscerate him. Except no words will come out of my mouth.
"I must say," he rumbles, his voice a low vibration in the quiet cave, "that's an improvement over that soft squishy hide you had before."
The audacity of the beast.
"Improvement?" I ask, the word tearing from my throat like a wounded animal.
I run my hands over my stomach, then confirm that it extends around my sides, the rough skin beneath my fingertips sending a fresh wave of nausea washing over me.
Drasuk holds up his massive, clawed hands in a placating gesture. "Calm is needed to figure this out."
"Calm down?" I choke out, my voice regaining some of its usual fire. "Don't patronize me, lizard. Those pieces of excrement genali did this to me. They made it so I would change into whoever purchased me."
I have never before wished so hard that my enemy was in front of me so I could smash them into plops of sad gray goo. Instead, I have to channel my rage at the only alien in front of me.
"You have to know more about what's happening to me. You're a fornicating alien,” I hiss out.
He sighs, a sound like wind rustling through ancient trees. "Kira," he starts, his voice dropping to a soothing rumble, "I honestly don't know what's happening. Maybe the genali tampered with your DNA, trying to turn you into one of their mindless drones, and this is some unintended side effect."
I glare at him, my anger warring with a flicker of morbid curiosity. Could that be it?
The thought is repulsive, but it also holds a sliver of logic. Drasuk, sensing the shift in my mood, decides to lighten the tense atmosphere, a foolish endeavor on his part.
"Besides," he continues, his spines twitching, "why all the dramatics? You keep denying you're squishy, yet here you are with not one, but two very ample pillows adorning your chest."
I lunge for him, fueled by a potent cocktail of fury and something else entirely—a surging possessiveness over my suddenly altered body.
He easily dodges my clumsy swipe, his booming laughter echoing through the forest and out into the desert.
Normally, I'd have countered with a witty retort, laced with enough venom to silence a viper. But right now, all I can manageis a strangled sound, a mixture of a growl and a frustrated whimper.
This is no laughing matter. My entire body feels alien, a constant reminder of my precarious situation.
Drasuk finally sobers, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. "Alright," he rumbles, his voice losing its playful edge. "We can save the squishy debate for another time. I truly am sorry. I know you want answers, but we have no way of knowing what caused that."
He gestures toward my mottled skin, his forehead spines oriented in what seems like genuine puzzlement.
I sink down onto the ground, my skin shifting in ways that are utterly foreign, the rough texture a constant scratching against my newly sensitive skin. Frustration gnaws at me.
Here I am, stranded on a godforsaken alien planet, my body morphing into something I barely recognize, and all I have for company is a giant, condescending dino-dragon who offers unhelpful observations about my bust.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus. Panicking won't solve anything.
