1st person / Changed / Latex Cub Wolf / Good End

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The world outside was a wasteland, cold and unforgiving. Ever since the virus had escaped from the ice, civilization had crumbled. Cities were silent tombs, the streets filled with debris and the remnants of a world long gone.

My stomach growled, breaking the quiet of the desolate street. I clutched my jacket tighter against the biting wind, scanning my surroundings for anything that might hold food. I’d been walking for days, rationing what little I had left. The hunger gnawed at me, a constant reminder that time was running out.

I don't know if I have also been infected with the virus. Before this, I had also encountered several humans who, like me, survived the initial great death, but that was only temporary. Not long after, even they died one after another due to the virus. I don't know when it will be my turn.

That’s when I saw it—the looming silhouette of the laboratory in the distance. Even from here, it looked imposing, its sleek, white exterior standing tall amidst the ruins. The lab had been built long before the world collapsed, and rumors spread among the survivors that there were still supplies inside. Maybe even answers.

But those rumors came with warnings. Some said the lab was cursed, that no one who went inside ever returned. Others whispered about the strange, white creatures that roamed its halls—creatures born from unknown, unlike anything else in this world.

I didn’t care. My options were limited, and I couldn’t survive much longer without food. If there was any chance the lab held something edible, I had to take it.

I made my way toward the building, its massive structure growing larger with every step. The wind howled through the broken streets, kicking up dust and snow, but I pressed on. By the time I reached the entrance, the sky had turned a dull grey, the sun hidden behind thick clouds.

The doors to the lab were already open, just slightly ajar, as if they had been left that way in a hurry. I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the handle.

I pushed the door open and slipped inside.

The air in the lab was cold, even colder than outside, but at least it was quiet. I stepped into the lobby, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The place was massive, far bigger than I’d imagined. Long, sterile corridors stretched out in every direction, and overhead, I could see several floors connected by winding staircases and glass elevators.

I needed to stay focused. There had to be something here—food, supplies, anything. I started moving, keeping to the walls as I explored the lower levels. Most of the rooms were sealed tight, but a few were open, though they held nothing but broken equipment and overturned furniture.

It wasn’t long before I realized I wasn’t alone.

At first, it was just a feeling—a prickling at the back of my neck, the sense that I was being watched. But soon, I began to hear it too, faint and wet, like something slithering across the floor. I stopped in my tracks, listening closely, but the sound was gone as soon as it had started.

“Keep it together,” I muttered under my breath.

I took a deep breath and continued moving, my steps faster now. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to meet it. But as I rounded a corner, my worst fears were confirmed. There, blocking the hallway in front of me, was something white. Something that moved.

It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. The creature was large, but its body didn’t seem solid—it shifted and flowed like liquid, its surface rippling as it slid across the floor. It was made of something that looked like latex, smooth and shiny under the dim light, and it pulsed with an almost organic rhythm.

The sight of it sent a wave of panic through me, and I instinctively took a step back. The creature didn’t seem to notice me at first, but then it stopped, its formless mass quivering.

I didn’t wait to see what it would do next. I turned and ran.

I sprinted back the way I had come, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear the wet sloshing sound of the creature following me, its movements faster than I expected. I had to get out—I had to find the exit. My boots pounded against the tile floor as I rounded corner after corner, desperately trying to retrace my steps.

But when I reached the main lobby, my escape route was already cut off.

The exit was blocked by more of them—several white, pulsating masses, spreading out across the walls and floor like some kind of living fungus. They oozed toward me, slowly but steadily, leaving no room for me to slip through.

I was trapped.

Panic surged through me as I scanned the room for another way out. There was only one option: up. The staircases leading to the upper floors were still clear, and without hesitation, I bolted for them. My legs burned as I climbed, taking the steps two at a time, the sound of the creatures below echoing in my ears.

I didn’t know how high I could go, or if there was any way out from the upper levels, but I had no choice. All I could do was keep climbing, hoping against hope that there was a way to escape the nightmare that had closed in around me.

As I reached the first landing, I glanced back down the stairs. The creatures were slower now, but they hadn’t given up. Their white, gelatinous forms slithered and crawled up the steps, relentless in their pursuit.

I turned and kept running, heading deeper into the upper levels of the lab. My only thought was to survive, to get as far away from those things as possible. The halls here were just as cold and empty as the lower ones, but now I could see more signs of what had happened here—abandoned workstations, broken glass, and strange, shattered containers.

Whatever experiments had taken place in this lab, they had clearly gone horribly wrong.

I pushed forward, the sound of my own breath harsh in my ears as I darted through the maze of corridors. I didn’t know how much longer I could run, or if there was even an end to this labyrinth. Every turn I made seemed to lead to more sterile hallways, more dead ends.

But I had no other choice.

The creatures behind me were relentless, moving with an eerie, unnatural grace. They weren’t fast, but their persistence was terrifying. No matter how many turns I took, they were always there, inching closer and closer.

I could feel the cold sweat on my skin, the adrenaline coursing through my veins, pushing me forward even though my body was screaming to stop. Every time I rounded a corner, I prayed I would find something—a door, a window, anything that would give me a way out.

But the building felt like a maze designed to trap me, with each new hallway looking the same as the last.

I stumbled upon a flight of stairs and bolted upward, the air around me growing colder the higher I went. I had no idea how many floors this place had, but I was already far above the ground level. My only hope was that the top of the building had some kind of exit. Maybe a roof, a balcony—anything that would offer a chance of escape.

As I reached another floor, I slowed for just a moment to catch my breath. My lungs burned from the effort, and my legs felt like they were about to give out. But I knew I couldn’t stop for long. Those things—they were still down there, still chasing me.

And they were getting closer.

There had to be an exit. There had to be.

I pressed on, my body aching with exhaustion, as I pushed through yet another door and found myself in a long, dimly lit hallway. Something about this floor felt different—the air was colder, the shadows deeper. And at the far end of the hall, I could see a flicker of movement.

My heart sank.

More of them.

They were waiting for me, their white, rippling forms blocking my path.

I crawled through the narrow vent, my heart pounding with every shuffle forward. The metallic walls of the ventilation shaft seemed to close in on me as I pushed myself deeper into the labyrinth above the floor where I had encountered the white latex creature. Its ominous, shifting mass still haunted my mind. I could hear its slimy movement faintly below as I continued to edge upwards, my only option being to escape to the upper floors.

The air in the vents was stuffy, stale. My hands were clammy with sweat, and I was beginning to feel a mix of exhaustion and panic. The vents twisted and turned unpredictably, leading me into an unknown area of the towering, deserted facility. I had no idea where I was headed, but anything was better than returning to the clutches of the creature below.

After what felt like an eternity, I reached a small grate that led into another room. Carefully, I peered through the slats, scanning the area below. It was empty, at least for now. I managed to pry the grate loose and dropped quietly onto the floor, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The room was dimly lit, the walls lined with flickering monitors, and the air was heavy with the scent of stale chemicals. It appeared to be another laboratory. Before I could take a breath of relief, however, something caught my eye—movement in the shadows beyond the doorway.

Instinctively, I ducked behind a desk, my pulse spiking again. From my hidden position, I saw it—a figure moving slowly past the door, but it wasn’t human. The creature stood upright like a man, but its sleek black fur and menacing snout revealed its true nature. A wolf-like form, but not quite; its body seemed made of the same strange, latex-like substance as the creatures below, only this one was black, with a stark white mask covering its face. The mask wasn’t like any ordinary mask, though—there were no visible straps, no seams. It was as if the mask was part of its body.

The figure passed the doorway silently, the soft pads of its feet barely making a sound. I could see the way its white eyes—eyes that looked hollow yet full of malice—scanned its surroundings, always alert. The rest of its eyes were jet black, the inverse of what a normal human eye would be. I held my breath, praying it wouldn’t notice me.

It lingered for a moment, sniffing the air as if it caught a faint trace of my scent. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure it would hear it. But after a few agonizing seconds, it continued on, disappearing down the hallway.

I exhaled in relief and quickly searched for an exit. Whatever that thing was, I couldn’t stay here. It looked like some kind of nightmarish predator, a twisted hybrid of man and beast. My mind raced, trying to figure out how many of these creatures were roaming the facility. If there were black ones too, that meant there were even more threats lurking in this building than I had anticipated.

I found another vent cover on the far side of the room. Desperate to put more distance between myself and the creatures, I crawled into it and began my climb again. As I ascended further through the structure, my stomach twisted with hunger. I hadn’t eaten since I left the desolate ruins of the last human settlement days ago, and my body was starting to feel the toll of starvation.

After another grueling climb, I found myself on a higher floor. The vent opened into a small, unassuming room. My legs trembled as I stood, carefully brushing the dust from my clothes. I heard no immediate sounds of pursuit and breathed a little easier.

Looking around, I realized I had stumbled into what looked like an old, abandoned storage room. Shelves were pushed against the walls, and a few crates sat overturned in the corners. And then, in the center of the room, I saw it—a tree.

A fruit-bearing tree.

I couldn’t believe my eyes at first. It seemed absurd, like a dream, but there it was. A small, gnarled tree growing right there in the middle of the room, its roots creeping along the cracks in the floor. I cautiously approached it, my stomach growling. The tree bore fruit—small, round, orange-like orbs hanging from its branches.

I hesitated, knowing that in this twisted facility, nothing could be trusted. But I was starving, and without food, I’d be too weak to continue. I reached up and plucked one of the fruits from a low-hanging branch, examining it carefully. It looked normal enough.

My body demanded sustenance, and despite my better judgment, I bit into the fruit. The sweet juice exploded in my mouth, and for a moment, all my fears and concerns melted away as I greedily devoured the rest. I slumped down against the base of the tree, chewing and swallowing as if this was my first meal in weeks.

For the first time since I’d entered this place, I felt a small sense of relief. My heart rate slowed, and my body began to relax. I knew the danger wasn’t over—far from it—but for the time being, I was safe, and I had something to eat. My mind wandered as I stared up at the strange tree, wondering how something like this could even exist in such a desolate place.

The creatures—both white and black—were still out there, lurking in the facility’s maze of corridors and rooms. I knew I couldn’t stay here forever, but for now, I let myself rest, if only for a little while.

I didn’t even realize how exhausted I had become until I closed my eyes. Despite the fear that lingered in the back of my mind, my body had given up its fight against sleep. The combination of hunger, stress, and the sheer physical strain of crawling through vents had taken its toll. As soon as I slumped against the tree and the fruit settled in my stomach, my mind slipped into the dark, quiet void of unconsciousness.

The room was eerily silent as I slept, save for the faint, almost imperceptible rustling sound coming from the vent above. The metallic shaft groaned as something shifted inside it—something alive. It slithered slowly, deliberately, through the narrow passage, its movements almost fluid, like thick oil sliding through a pipe.

The first sign of the creature came as a thin tendril of black liquid latex. It pushed through the slats of the vent and dripped onto the floor in a small, sticky puddle. The mass quivered for a moment, as if sensing the air, and then began to crawl forward—quietly, cautiously—toward my sleeping form.

More of the black latex seeped from the vent, joining the initial pool until it formed a writhing mass of slick, dark goo. It spread out across the floor in a slow, deliberate flow, inching closer to me with every passing second.

As it reached me, the black latex hesitated, almost as if it were studying its prey. My breathing was steady and deep—completely unaware of the creeping danger that loomed closer and closer. It waited, perhaps sensing that I was deep in the throes of sleep, before it began to make its move.

The mass of latex coiled around my feet, then began to crawl up my legs like a living blanket, spreading over my body in smooth, slick waves. It moved with purpose, enveloping me inch by inch, covering my limbs and torso. Still, I didn’t stir.

I remained asleep as the latex climbed higher, encasing my chest, my arms, and my face. It felt cool and slick against my skin, like a second layer slowly molding itself to my form. My body was completely at its mercy, unable to resist its advances in my exhausted state.

The transformation began almost immediately. The black latex tightened around me, its grip firm yet strangely gentle, as if it were shaping me, molding me into something new. The latex became more than just a coating—it started to merge with me, sinking into my flesh and bone, altering me from the inside out.

My skin, once warm and human, was replaced by the cool, sleek surface of the latex. It spread evenly across my body, forming into the same inky-black fur I had seen on the creatures earlier. The latex moved with unnatural precision, covering every inch of me, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

My limbs began to change as well. My arms and legs shortened, shrinking down in size as they became more compact. My fingers and toes morphed, taking on a new, clawed shape, though they were still tiny compared to the larger creatures I had encountered. My body was shrinking, becoming smaller and more infantile, as though the creature was transforming me into a newborn version of its kind.

A wave of dizziness might have swept over me if I had been awake, but in my deep sleep, I felt none of it. My bones softened, my joints loosened, and my body continued to shrink until I was no longer the human I had been when I had first fallen asleep.

The final piece of the transformation came when the latex reached my face. It enveloped my head, reshaping it to match the distinctive, wolf-like features of the creatures. My snout elongated slightly, though it remained small and rounded, giving me the appearance of a juvenile. My eyes, once wide and full of fear, were now hidden behind the creature’s signature white mask.

But the mask, like the rest of the latex, was not a separate entity. It fused with my face, becoming part of me, molded directly onto my new form. My vision dimmed as my human eyes were replaced by the creature’s black-and-white gaze—the same hollow, soulless look I had seen earlier.

I had become one of them.

But not fully grown—no, I was smaller, weaker, almost fragile. I had the body of a child, a tiny version of the terrifying black wolves that prowled the upper floors of the facility. My limbs were short and stubby, and my head was slightly too large for my body, giving me the appearance of a small, harmless pup.

As the transformation completed, the black latex settled into place, forming a seamless, smooth surface over my body. My breathing remained slow and even, my chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep, peaceful sleep, completely unaware of the monumental changes that had taken place.

The black mass that had crept from the vent remained for a moment longer, as if admiring its work, before it slowly retreated back into the duct. The room fell silent once more, with only the soft hum of the facility’s machinery and the faint rustling of leaves from the fruit tree to break the stillness.

I slept on, oblivious to the fact that I was no longer the same person who had entered the room just hours before. I had become a creature—a small, black latex wolf, complete with a white mask and innocent, childlike form. My mind, however, was still human. Somewhere deep within the latex shell, I remained myself, unaware of the changes that had taken place. For now, at least.

I wake slowly, the heaviness of sleep still pulling me under as my body feels oddly unfamiliar, weighed down in some areas, yet light in others. The rough floor beneath me, cold and hard, tugs me back to consciousness, but it’s not until I stretch out a leg—no, not a leg, something else—that my eyes fly open.

Everything around me seems larger, more daunting, and the fruit tree I had been sitting next to now looks like a towering giant. Confusion hits me hard as I struggle to stand, but instead of rising to my feet like I normally would, my limbs don’t cooperate the way they’re supposed to. My body feels... off-balance. My hands, or what I think are my hands, press against the ground, and it’s only then that I realize I’m on all fours.

I glance down at what should be my arms but are now covered in black, slick latex-like skin. My fingers are smaller, my palms rounder, and there’s something soft where the pads of my hands press into the floor—thick, spongy cushions. Panic surges through me, but before I can react further, I catch a glimpse of something even more startling.

My reflection.

The smooth surface of a metal shelf across the room reflects a small, wolf-like creature staring back at me. Its glossy black skin shines under the dim light, and its white mask-like face contrasts sharply against the darkness of its body. Its wide eyes, with black sclera and white pupils, blink in shock.

It's me.

I try to scream, but all that comes out is a confused growl, something primal and small. Desperately, I try to stand on two legs, but my body refuses to cooperate. Every time I lift a leg or paw—whatever I’m supposed to call them now—I stumble, falling back onto all fours. My body instinctively knows what it’s supposed to do, even though my mind can’t comprehend it.

Suddenly, a sound from the entrance of the room snaps me out of my frantic attempts to figure out my new form. The door creaks open, and in walks a black latex creature—just like the one I had seen earlier. But this one is fully grown, towering above me as it stands on two legs, carrying a few of the same sour fruits I had been eating earlier, complete with the same white mask and hollow, black-and-white eyes. Its tall, lean form casts a shadow over me, towering over my now diminutive form, and for a brief, terrifying moment, I think it’s going to attack.

But it doesn’t. It pauses, tilting its head as it notices me curled up on the floor.

To my horror and surprise, the creature looked at me and spoke in clear, fluent human language.

“Well, what do we have here?” the latex wolf said, voice soft but deep, carrying a note of curiosity. “I didn’t think a little one like you would enjoy these sour fruits.”

It speaks. The creature speaks in perfect human language, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to panic more. I try to respond, to explain who I am, but when I open my mouth, the only sound that comes out is a soft whine, like a frightened animal. My throat tightened, and instead of words, only a low, animalistic whimper escaped my mouth.I try again—nothing. No words, no language. Panic swelled in my chest as I realized the full extent of my transformation. I couldn't speak. I had lost the ability to form human words entirely.

The creature, clearly amused. From my position on all fours, the height difference between us is immense. I look like a baby compared to this full-grown version of what I’ve become.

The wolf watched me for a moment, its expression unreadable behind the smooth surface of the mask. It then crouched down to my level, bringing itself closer to my small, latex-covered form. “Strange,” it mused aloud. “You’re just a pup. What are you doing all the way up here?”

I could only stare back, trying to will my body to respond, to speak, to move in some way that would indicate I was still human—still myself. But the latex had fully integrated into my body, limiting my communication to little more than whines and soft growls.

“What’s a little one like you doing in here?” the creature asks again, its white mask-like face close to mine. There’s a smile in its voice, an easy warmth that’s almost comforting despite the situation.

It reaches out a hand—or rather, a paw—and pats my head gently, the black latex surface gleaming in the low light, causing me to flinch at the touch, and ruffled the top of my head in a surprisingly gentle motion.“Ah, no need to be scared,” it said, misunderstanding my frozen state. “I won’t hurt you. I’m just here for some fruit.”

“You’re quite small to be eating those fruits, aren’t you?” it muses, glancing at the fruit tree. “They’re much too sour for your kind at this stage.”

As it straightened back up, plucking more fruit from the tree, I watched in silence. This creature—this latex wolf—was unlike the others I had seen earlier. It wasn’t just a mindless predator. It could speak, it could think. And, judging by its tone, it seemed… kind?

The creature stands up and begins to leave the room, heading toward the door with the fruit in hand.

For some reason, perhaps out of sheer desperation or curiosity, I follow. I forced myself to stand up, my tiny, latex-covered legs wobbling slightly under the weight of my new body. My small form scurries after it on all fours, paws clicking lightly against the floor. As much as I hate this new body, I can’t deny that moving like this feels strangely... natural.

The creature, upon hearing the sound of my pawsteps behind it, turns its head and glanced down at me, chuckling softly. “You want to come with me, guess you're curious, huh?” it says, clearly amused. “I didn’t think little ones like you liked company.”

I took a few tentative steps towards it, struggling to keep up with its much larger strides. In this new, smaller body, the wolf looked enormous, like a giant compared to me. Yet there was something about it that made me want to stay close—some sense of familiarity or perhaps safety in its presence.

“Well, I suppose you could tag along,” the wolf said, tucking a few of the fruits into a makeshift pouch slung over its shoulder. “It’s rare to see one as small as you. Most of the little ones stick to the lower levels. But you seem... different.”

Different. If only it knew how different. I had been human mere hours ago.

Again, I try to speak, to ask it what’s happening, who it is, where we are, but no words come out. The creature seems to understand my confusion, though, because it smiles down at me. “You’re a cute one, aren’t you?”

Cute? Me? The word sends a strange, frustrated feeling through me. I’m not supposed to be cute! I’m supposed to be... human. But this creature, whoever it is, clearly doesn’t see me as anything but a small, helpless version of itself.

“I’m Puro, by the way,” the wolf continued as it began to walk towards the door. “I’ve been living here for a while now, exploring the facility. And you? Do you have a name, little one?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but again, nothing came out but a faint whimper. Frustration surged through me, but Puro didn’t seem to mind. “No name yet? Well, that’s fine. You can follow me, if you want. I don’t mind the company.”

With that, Puro walked toward the exit, leaving the room with its prize of bitter fruit. My instincts screamed at me to follow, and so I did, my small legs working quickly to keep up with his much longer strides. I wasn’t sure what else to do. This place was a nightmare of strange, dangerous creatures, and Puro was the only one I had encountered so far that didn’t immediately try to attack me.

As I trailed behind him, I found myself studying the way he moved—graceful, with purpose, yet relaxed in his own skin. It was hard to reconcile the fact that this latex-covered wolf could speak like a human, even possess some degree of kindness, while everything about this facility screamed danger and death.

“The road I usually take was blocked by a mischievous fox today, so I'm sorry. I think we have to take a long detour today, "Puro turned to me and said. I didn’t reply, just followed.

We walk—or rather, I pad along behind it— in silence for a while, winding through long, narrow hallways and avoiding the more dangerous sections of the building. Puro seemed to know the layout well, and as we traveled, I realized he was leading me to a specific destination. Every turn, every corridor was chosen deliberately, with no hesitation.

The creature moves with ease on two legs, while I struggle to keep up on all fours, my paws occasionally slipping against the floor. It notices my clumsiness and chuckles again, seemingly entertained by my awkward attempts to follow.

Eventually, we arrived at what appeared to be a large, abandoned library. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, and the air smelled of old paper and dust. Most books were placed on the floor. Despite its desolate state, there was something comforting about the space—a sense of quiet isolation, far away from the hostile creatures that lurked in other parts of the facility.

Puro led me to a room next to the library where a few cushions and makeshift bedding had been laid out. “This is where I’ve been staying,” he said, setting the fruit down. “Not much, but it’s home.”

Home? In a library? I look around at the towering shelves, the dusty old books that line them, and the high, arched ceilings that loom above us. It’s... surprisingly cozy, in a way. Quiet, secluded.

I looked around, my small body feeling even smaller in the expansive room. The sight of the bookshelves, towering above me, reminded me of the life I had left behind. A life filled with books, knowledge, and humanity. But now, here I was—a tiny, latex-covered wolf-pup in the middle of a post-apocalyptic library.

Puro turned to me, his white mask reflecting the dim light, tilting its head as if assessing something. Then, with a soft chuckle, it adds, “You really are a strange little one. Most pups your size don’t wander off on their own. But you followed me all the way here.”

I sit down awkwardly, my body still not used to the way it’s supposed to move. My limbs feel strange and too short, my paws too soft and padded to grip anything properly. And then there’s the tail—something I hadn’t even noticed before, but now I can feel it swishing lightly behind me, as if it has a mind of its own.

Puro seems to find my discomfort amusing. It walks over to me and ruffles the fur on my head again. “Maybe you are a new born, huh?” it says kindly. “Don’t worry, it takes some time. But you’ll be used to your body.”

I try to swat Puro’s hand away, annoyed by how patronizing it sounds, but all I manage is a weak little paw slap that Puro easily avoids. It laughs softly. “See? Cute.”

I huff in frustration, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m stuck in this tiny, helpless body, and all I can do is follow Puro’s lead for now.

Puro seems to sense my frustration and smiles down at me. “Come on,” it says, patting my head again. “You’re safe here, little one. I’ll take care of you. You must be tired after everything you’ve been through. Rest here if you want. I’ll share some of the fruit with you.”

With that, it walks over to a pile of cushions and blankets in one corner of the library, gesturing for me to follow. I hesitate for a moment, still unsure of what’s happening, but eventually, I pad over on all fours and stood beside the cushions. My body is still small, still unfamiliar, but for the first time since I entered this strange place, I feel a tiny bit of comfort. The exhaustion from earlier was catching up to me again, and the idea of resting—even in this strange new form—was tempting. I curled up on one of the cushions, my small latex body sinking into the soft material.

As I lay there, Puro sat beside me, taking a bite of one of the sour fruits. “It’s strange,” he said, more to himself than to me. “I’ve never had a little one like you follow me before. You’re different. Special, maybe.”

I didn’t know what to think. Everything felt surreal, like a dream I couldn’t wake up from. But for now, I had no choice but to trust Puro. He was the only one who could help me navigate this strange new world.

And so, I closed my eyes again, my mind still racing with questions. What had happened to me? Could I ever return to being human? And who was this mysterious latex wolf that called himself Puro?

Only time would tell.

Puro lies down beside me, its larger body radiating warmth as it settles in for the night. “Rest up, little one,” it says softly, its voice low and soothing. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

As I close my eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking me once more, I can’t help but wonder what tomorrow will bring—and whether I’ll ever find a way out of this nightmare.

---

Days passed. I didn’t know how many exactly, but the world outside the library had long since faded from my thoughts. Time moved differently here. No more racing heartbeats, no desperate survival. It was quiet, still, and… well, not entirely bad.

But there was one thing that gnawed at me, day after day: I hadn’t grown. I was still the same small, four-legged, latex-covered pup I had been when I woke up. My body felt strange, unfamiliar, but it had settled into a kind of routine. Walking on four legs had become natural, though I still hated how small I was compared to Puro. He was like a giant, towering over me with his tall, upright stance and long arms. I couldn’t help but feel a bit helpless, always looking up at him from below.

Puro had noticed my size too, or at least my lack of growth. “You’re not like the others, are you?” he mused one day, watching me from across the room as I tried to hop onto a low couch, my small form struggling to get a grip with my padded paws. I grunted and eventually gave up, plopping down on the floor in frustration.

“You should have started growing by now, little one,” Puro continued, his tone thoughtful. He’d been like that ever since I started living with him—curious, observant, always pondering something. “Most pups like you grow pretty fast. Maybe you’re a late bloomer.”

Late bloomer? If only he knew. I wanted to tell him the truth so badly, but every time I tried, all that came out was a high-pitched squeak or a growl—baby sounds, nothing like the human words I wanted to say. It drove me crazy. I wasn’t just some helpless pup; I was human! Or at least I had been. But no matter how hard I tried to make my voice work, I couldn’t communicate.

Puro didn’t seem to notice my frustration, or if he did, he thought it was adorable. He would often watch me with an amused smile, shaking his head at my attempts to “speak.”

“You’re cute when you try so hard,” he’d say with a chuckle. “But you should relax. You don’t need to talk to enjoy life.”

Easy for him to say. He could speak. He could *read.* And that was something else that had utterly baffled me about Puro—his love for books. For a creature born from latex and silence, he had a fascination with the written word, and I couldn’t quite understand why.

I’d often find him sprawled out on a beanbag chair, a stack of books nearby, reading for hours on end. He devoured every book he found, regardless of the subject. It didn’t matter if it was fiction, history, science, or even children’s stories—he read them all with the same eagerness, his white, mask-like face always focused, his strange, black eyes scanning the pages with intensity.

One day, while he was flipping through an old encyclopedia, I couldn’t hold back my curiosity anymore. I padded over to him on my four small legs, sitting at his feet, watching him with a tilted head.

“How?” I wanted to ask, but again, the only sound that came out was a soft, questioning whimper.

Puro looked down at me, pausing his reading. “How do I know how to read?” he asked, as if he’d heard my thoughts. “It’s kind of a long story.”

He closed the book and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling as he spoke. “I wasn’t always like this, you know. I mean, I’ve always been a latex creature, but I wasn’t always… curious. Most of us aren’t. The others just exist, moving around the lab or the surrounding areas, following their instincts. But I found this place—this library—and it changed me.”

His voice grew softer as he continued. “I didn’t know what the books were at first. Just stacks of paper with strange marks on them. But one day, I found an old machine tucked away in a corner, something humans must have used for teaching children. It played sounds—words—and matched them to the marks on the pages. It taught me how to read, how to understand the symbols.”

I stared at him, my small body frozen in place as I processed what he was saying. A latex creature, learning to read from a machine? It sounded unbelievable, but Puro didn’t seem like the type to lie. His eyes were full of that same earnest curiosity I had seen in him since the moment we met.

“And once I learned,” Puro continued, “I couldn’t stop. I wanted to know everything. What the world was like before, what humans did, how they thought. There’s so much knowledge here, in these books.” He smiled faintly, glancing around at the shelves that lined the room. “But there’s something else I’ve always wanted…”

I tilted my head, urging him to go on. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again, his voice a little softer.

“I’ve always dreamed of finding a human,” he admitted, his black eyes meeting mine. “Not just in the books, but a real one. I’ve read so much about them, but I’ve never met one. I want to explore the world with a human, to learn from them, to see things through their eyes. Maybe even find a way to restore everything.”

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him that his dream had already come true, that I *was* human. But again, my voice betrayed me. All that came out was a pitiful whimper, like a lost puppy.

Puro laughed softly, misunderstanding my frustration. “You’re a funny little one, aren’t you? Always trying to talk.”

He reached down and patted my head gently, the soft pads of his hand warm against my latex-covered skin. “Maybe one day you’ll learn to speak, too. Who knows? You might grow up to be the most talkative one of all.”

I grumbled in response, but Puro didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled and picked up his book again, flipping back to where he had left off.

As the days went by, I found myself growing more accustomed to this strange life. It wasn’t what I had expected—far from it—but it wasn’t terrible either. Puro’s company was surprisingly comforting, and his constant reading gave me something to focus on. Watching him pour over books, flipping page after page with eager fingers, made me realize just how much he wanted to understand the world.

He read everything. Sometimes he’d pick up a thick science textbook, furrowing his brow as he tried to make sense of complex theories. Other times, he’d read a children’s picture book, laughing softly at the colorful illustrations and simple words. He even read novels, though I had no idea how he managed to finish them so quickly.

His love of learning amazed me. For a creature who had started out as nothing more than a latex experiment, Puro had developed an incredible thirst for knowledge. It made me wonder… if he could learn so much, maybe I could too. After all, I was human, and reading was more easily to me than Puro. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, I’d figure out a way to communicate with him. To tell him the truth about who I really was. Maybe my soft paws finally could pick up a pen, or I had my speaking ability again, who knows.

But that was all in the future. For now, I was still small, still stuck in this frustrating, adorable form that Puro seemed to find endlessly amusing. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t stand on two legs, couldn’t even hold a book with my clumsy paws. All I could do was watch, and wait, and hope that one day, things would change.

Until then, I found myself falling into a routine. I’d wake up, stretch my four legs, and follow Puro around the library as he went about his day. Sometimes we’d explore different parts of the building, looking for new books or supplies. Other times, we’d just sit together in the reading room, Puro lost in his books while I dozed off on the floor.

It wasn’t a bad life, all things considered. In fact, it was almost… peaceful.

One afternoon, after a long day of wandering the library, I found myself growing tired again. I padded over to Puro, who was lounging in his favorite beanbag chair, reading a thick novel. Without thinking, I curled up beside him, my small body fitting perfectly against his side. My tail wrapped around me, and I buried my face into the soft fur, feeling the warmth of his presence as I drifted off to sleep.

Puro glanced down at me, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “You’re really getting comfortable, aren’t you?”

I didn’t respond—couldn’t respond—but I felt his hand rest gently on my back, the pads of his fingers rubbing soothing circles into my latex-covered skin.

“Cute,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle. “You’re a cute little one, you know that?”

I huffed softly, but my exhaustion was too great to protest further. I just snuggled deeper into the warmth, letting the steady rhythm of Puro’s breathing lull me into a peaceful sleep.

Someday, I told myself. Someday I’ll tell him the truth. But for now, this wasn’t so bad.

Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

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I always wonder why there's not a cub TF when Changed contains it.

This is the first time I have been so jealous of the protagonist I have written...well, please enjoy it and point out any shortcoming in the comment section! :p