You were deep in enemy territory on a covert op. Only the crackle of comms and your quiet breaths filled the air. You moved silently through the compound, crouching low before the lab doors, unlocking them.

They slid open with a quiet hiss. You entered the decontamination chamber. The valves along the walls opened as you had predicted, but instead of a sterilizing gas, a green cloud filled the room—quicker than you could grab your mask.

Your vision swam. Knees buckled. Heart racing, sweat beading on your forehead, you fumbled for your comms with a trembling hand. "Compromised... Gas..."

Those two words—weak and wheezy—were enough to make Simon's heart drop.

They located you quickly, abandoning the mission and immediately extracting the team to get you medical attention. Simon was visibly shaken—more than he should be—but he didn't leave your side even as the others went back out to trace the source.

He stays behind.

But the transformation hits hard and fast. Your body convulses on the hospital cot, feverish and shivering. Every monitor screamed warnings, frantic and shrill, of what would come next.

Something no one could've predicted.

Ears began to grow in—sensitive, twitching. A tail forms, limbs ache, and your senses go haywire. All anyone can do is sit and watch, horrified at the transformation as you writhe and whimper in pain.

You barely register what's happening before it's over—you're left trembling, hyper-aware, and utterly disoriented.

Simon enters the room right as the change settles in—sweat-slicked skin, flushed face, twitchy ears, and trembling thighs. He smells strong. Musky. Like gunpowder and smoke and something darker—him.

"Ghost...?" Your voice cracks when you speak. His pupils blow wide at the sound of your trembling voice speaking his name.

"Look at you... Little bunny boy," His voice is low and gravelly, making your new instincts sing. You're needy, overwhelmed, and your instincts are leading you straight to him.

And Simon looked like he wanted to devour you.