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#Rape #Teen #Zoophilia
By Red419
Deep inside a research faciliy for anomalies creatur. Dr tries to study a young girl with tendrils. Only to find out, The girl’s BI. (Slow burn story)
Prologue
“Let me ask you something. What is a myth…? What is a legend? Now to the common person, a myth or a legend could be nothing but a spooky story. Something to scare the children enough not to roam out the camp at night. The reality of it all, Every story, every legend, every myth has a hint of truth. We at the Foundation, capture, study and if needed neutizel it if needed. While my role in the company isn’t that flashy it was equally as important.
Chapter 1
Subject 943, Sariyah
“Doctor Cross, Welcome to the Norway lab. I am Jakob, lead security officer. As per the file on our complex, we have 14 aquatic-based anomalies. Some are vastly more dangerous than others. You are here for the newest member of our misfits…” The large, burly man stated that he was a middle-aged gentleman with blond hair and eyes colored blue like the sea. His dress was no joke. Solid black camo with a bulletproof vest with machine gun magazines lined it. On his back was a M16 assault weapon.
I sat my bags down and rubbed my hands together to warm up after being out in the cold winds. The room we were in was a decontamination chamber. The walls were painted white, with the only accent being the chrome outlets.
“Mam, You may want to hold your breath…” He stated.
Taking the air into my lungs, the outlets opened and showered us in a mist of disinfectant spray. Before too long, it was over, and I exhaled. As I caught my breath, the door opened. Grabbing my bags, we went inside. We passed soldiers and researchers, both looking at me as if I was impeaching on their territory.
Having a whole career in Psychology, I could see why I was stepping on toes. He took me to my quarters and flashed a badge to a card reader. Just like magic, the door slid up. There wasn’t much. The walls were painted crimson red. There was a dresser, a small television, and a queen-sized bed. I placed my bags on my bed. I let out a stretch but asked the man.
“Can you take me to the anomaly I was sent for? I’d like to see it before turning in for the night.”
“Yes, ma’am, follow me. Oh, and before I forget…” Jokob handed me a small badge. It was matte black with a silver chip embedded near the corner. He explained, “That badge allows access to most of the base: your quarters, the mess hall, the lab, and the specimen. For security reasons, I hope you understand; you are not allowed access to any other anomaly.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, nodding in agreement. The restrictions made sense, though I couldn’t help but wonder what those other anomalies were—and why they were off-limits. I clipped the badge to my shirt pocket and stepped behind him.
The walk to the lab was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and the echo of our footsteps against the polished concrete floors. When Jokob opened the heavy steel door, a rush of cold, sterilized air greeted me.
Inside, the laboratory buzzed with a quiet intensity. It was a sprawling, pristine space with cutting-edge equipment. Glass cabinets lined the walls, each housing vials of vibrant, unidentified substances. Microscopes and scanning devices blinked with faint blue and green lights, their screens displaying complex data streams. The faint scent of disinfectant lingered in the air, sharp and clean.
Two men stood engrossed in conversation at the far end of the room. Both wore crisp, white lab coats, though their appearances couldn’t have been more different. One was tall and wiry, with sharp, angular features and glasses perched precariously on his nose. His brown hair was neatly combed, not a strand out of place, and his voice carried a precise, clipped British accent.
The other man was shorter and broader, with a thick beard that gave him an almost rugged appearance—oddly juxtaposed with his pristine lab coat. His hair was a bit disheveled, curling slightly at the ends, and his accent was more affluent, with the smooth cadence of a Londoner.
“Ah, you must be the new researcher,” the taller one said, turning toward me and adjusting his glasses. His tone was polite but measured, as though he were already assessing my competence. “Dr. Wilkins. And this is my colleague, Dr. Carter.”
“Welcome,” Dr. Carter added, his tone warmer. He gave me a nod and a quick smile that softened the otherwise serious demeanor of the room. “Jokob told us you’d be coming. I trust he’s already given you the rundown of the rules?”
“Only about five times,” I replied with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.
Dr. Wilkins smirked faintly. “Good. Best to be thorough, given the nature of our work.”
As they spoke, my eyes wandered around the room, eventually drawn to a large glass wall on the far side. But it wasn’t the glass that held my attention—it was what was inside.
Behind the thick, bulletproof barrier stood a little girl no older than fourteen. She was eerily still, standing barefoot in the center of what looked like a ransacked room. The walls were scarred with deep gouges, and overturned furniture was scattered across the floor like in the aftermath of a violent storm. She wore a tattered hospital gown that barely reached her thighs, its once-white fabric stained with faint smears of something darker.
Dr. Carter noticed where my gaze had landed and smirked, though there was no warmth. “Well, first things first…” He gestured toward the glass with a subtle flourish. “I’d like you to meet Subject 943.”
The girl’s eyes snapped to mine as though she had been waiting for someone to notice her. They were an unholy shade of red, glowing faintly against her pale skin, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell if she was staring at me or through me.
It wasn’t just her eyes that unsettled me. Scattered across the floor around her were eight dark, sinewy tendrils, each as thick as my wrist. They twitched faintly, coiling and uncoiling like snakes testing the air.
She tilted her head, studying me with an unnerving curiosity. Then, without breaking eye contact, she took a slow step forward. The tendrils dragged behind her initially but soon came to life, rising and spreading outward like a spider’s legs preparing to pounce.
When she reached the glass, she paused. Her small hand, pale and delicate, reached out to touch the barrier. A faint tap echoed in the room as her fingers met the glass.
I froze; my breath caught in my throat.
The tentacles followed. One by one, they slid forward, their movements disturbingly organic, like living extensions of her body. The glass seemed to groan under their weight as they pressed against it, fanning around her hand in an almost predatory display.
“She’s curious about you,” Dr. Carter said, his voice low and calm, though I could feel the tension simmering beneath his words. “But don’t let her appearance fool you. That’s not a child in there—at least not anymore.”
I swallowed hard, unable to tear my eyes away as her crimson gaze bore into mine. For a moment, I thought I saw the faintest flicker of a smile play across her lips, and it sent a chill down my spine.
I studied Dr. Carter’s face carefully. “And you brought me here to be her psychologist?”
“Yes, actually,” he replied with a faint smirk. “We’ve tried everything else. Countless methods to communicate, countless failures. As you can imagine, the Director wanted a fresh perspective. Someone… unconventional.”
Before he could continue, I cut him off. “And so here I am. What’s her name?”
“If she ever had one, she wouldn’t have shared it with us. We call her 943. Though, when patience runs thin, some of the staff call her ‘the Octopus.’” He chuckled lightly as if it were a harmless joke.
I shot him a sharp look. “You don’t need to be a psychologist to know how dehumanizing that is. I’m sure she hates it.”
His smirk faltered, and I returned to the glass, watching as one of her tendrils curled faintly as though responding to the conversation. I took a steady breath.
“Open the door,” I said firmly.
Dr. Carter blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Open the door. Lock it the moment I’m inside,” I repeated, my tone leaving no room for argument.
He hesitated, glancing toward Dr. Wilkins, who raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Finally, Carter sighed and muttered under his breath, “Your funeral,” before motioning to one of the guards.
As the glass door hissed open, a wave of cold air spilled out, brushing against my face like a warning. I stepped forward, every nerve in my body tingling with a mixture of anticipation and dread.
The door sealed behind me with a metallic clang that echoed in the sterile chamber.
943’s head turned toward me slowly, her crimson eyes narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey. The tendrils scattered across the floor began to stir, rising with a hypnotic, serpentine grace.
“Hello,” I said, keeping my voice calm and steady as I took a step forward. “My name is Samantha Cross.”
For a moment, the piercing glow in her eyes softened, dimming from hatred to something closer to curiosity. I resisted the urge to flinch as one of her tendrils slid toward me, brushing against my cheek. Its surface was cold and slick, leaving a faint trail of slime that clung to my skin. Another tendril prodded my chest, almost as if testing my reaction.
“I’m not like the others here, sweetheart,” I continued, keeping my tone light and unthreatening. “No clipboard, no pens, no notes. Just me.”
The tendrils hesitated, their movements slowing, and for the first time, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition—or perhaps intrigue—in her crimson eyes. I took a slow breath, trying to hold her attention. “You don’t have to take my word for it,” I added, offering a small smile. “Check my pockets. See for yourself.”
The tendrils twitched, then moved with eerie precision, rooting through my coat and pants pockets. One plucked out my phone, holding it up briefly before discarding it on the floor with a faint clatter. Another retrieved a small chocolate bar from my jacket.
I blinked, realizing I’d forgotten it was even there. The tendril hovered, holding the candy as though inspecting it. Seizing the opportunity, I softened my voice even further. “That’s for you, little one,” I said. “A gift. To show you I’m a friend.”
I extended my hand, slowly reaching for the chocolate bar, but the moment I moved, she recoiled. Her crimson eyes flared with sudden suspicion, and before I could react, a tendril shot forward, coiling around my neck.
My breath hitched as the slimy, sinewy appendage tightened, cold and unyielding. My pulse thundered in my ears as I froze, my hands hovering in the air. “It’s okay…” I croaked, keeping my tone as calm as I could manage despite the crushing grip. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
As Jabok opened the door, a machine gun was drawn. Ready to put a bullet in her, ending her before I could do my job. I called out for him. “No! Do not interfere, it’s just her and me!” Looking her in the eyes, I said again. “I am not going to hurt you…”
Despite being cut from oxygen, My heart rate tried to remain steady. Showing that I was telling the truth, that made her release her grasp. Gasping for air, I looked at her teary eyed and said, “You understand me then don’t you?”
She nodded…
“May I show you something?” Taking the candy bar into my hand, I opened it and pretended to take a nibble. Before I passed it back to her, Just as I predicted she took a bite as well. Her eyes immediately changed back to a northern sea like blue. A staple eye color for the area.
“Do you have a name? I asked.
“Seriyah…” She mumbled.
My heart skipped a beat as I heard it knowing that I had her right where I wanted.
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By Red419
#Rape #Teen #Zoophilia
