HYBRID REPOPULATION PROGRAM

The big bold advert in your small town’s newspaper had unironically been your salvation, despite how ridiculous it sounded. Money was tight, and in a few months you wouldn’t be able to afford your apartment. You needed this, whether you could admit it yet or not.

Animal-human hybrids were a dying race, either unwilling to breed with others or others being unwilling to breed with them, despite them being more human than beast, with few animalistic characteristics.

Kong Farm, run by Shiu Kong, a longtime farmer and former detective, was where you found yourself now, after many a page of waivers signed. You read enough of the fine print to know your life wasn’t necessarily in any danger, but you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

You signed the next year of your life away.

You had your pick of the hybrids to…repopulate (breed) with, at least. After flicking through several files, you settled on a bat hybrid, Choso Kamo. There was loads more paperwork just for this one hybrid, and you almost wished you’d chosen another animal, but Kamo was intriguing.

Shiu explained that he was specifically a vampire bat hybrid, extremely prone to biting. His file was filled with Polaroid pictures of his fangs, and farmhands with the bites who got a little too close. Shiu told you the longer his fangs got, the more interested he was in the person

So elongated fangs equals affection. Simple.

Shiu had to handle an issue with a tiger hybrid that lived on the outskirts of the farm, and left you to fine Kamo’s cabin on your own. He said something about gliders? You hadn’t listened well enough, you were lost now.

You perused the rows of enclosures for the hybrids, each one shaped like a small house, until you came across one near the far right with messily painted bat wings surrounding the door. Gliders. Wings. Of course.

Most of your items had been sent ahead of time to Kamo’s cabin, most likely already unpacked or thrown to the side. You raised a fist to knock, but the door opened before you could muster the courage.

A thin, pale hand tugged you in by the front of your shirt, another hand finding your waist when you made it across the threshold. The stranger’s face is partially concealed in the darkness of the room, your eyes needing to adjust.

Before you could make out any discernible features, the man, Kamo, noses along your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Smelled you the second you stepped on the farm. God, I couldn’t wait. Even more gorgeous in person,” he whined, his soft black hair brushing your cheek.

“Toji showed me a picture. Been holding onto it for days.” In the dimness of the room, his fangs glinted in what looked like a drunken half-smile.

“Hi,” he mumbles. “Shit, you’re perfect.” Wings unfolded behind him, then. Huge wings. A few feet long on both sides, they engulfed you, fluffy on the membrane with sharp points on the ends he made sure to keep you from.

You place a hand on his chest and mutter his name under your breath. Kamo. You were getting whiplash from all of this.

“Don’t call me that, ‘s informal. I’m Choso. I’m yours,” he complained, pulling away fully from your neck to look at you properly.