Darrick clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. "You're treating me like some kind of experiment. I'm not a damn lab rat."

The handlers didn't respond, their silence more infuriating than any words could have been. The hallway stretched out before them, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows that flickered with every step. Darrick's cage jostled slightly as the trolley rolled over a bump in the floor, and he tightened his grip on the bars to steady himself.

As they turned a corner, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew colder, more clinical, and the faint hum of machinery reached Darrick's ears. He knew where they were going—the lab was a place he'd heard whispers about but had never seen. It was where they took the ones who couldn't "adapt" to the program, the ones who needed "specialized attention."

The doors to the lab slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a stark, white room filled with monitors, machines, and rows of equipment that looked like it belonged in a science fiction movie. A team of technicians bustled around, their movements precise and methodical as they prepared for whatever experiment they were about to conduct.

The handlers wheeled Darrick's cage into the center of the room, parking it next to a metal table that gleamed under the bright overhead lights. One of the technicians approached, her eyes scanning a tablet as she spoke.

"Growth instability reported over the last 48 hours. Initial scans suggest the medication is triggering abnormal cellular activity."

Turning to the handlers. "Prepare him for the scan. We need a baseline before we proceed with adjustments."

As the handlers moved to unlock the cage, Darrick's mind raced. He didn't know what they were planning, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn't let them turn him into a science experiment. Not without a fight.

The metallic clink of the cage unlocking sent a surge of panic through Darrick's veins. The handlers moved with practiced efficiency, sliding open the small door and reaching in to lift him out. Their gloved hands gripped him firmly, but not harshly, as they carried him to the center of the room where a massive, sterile hospital bed awaited.

Darrick tried to push back against the growing dread in his chest, his muscles still trembling and weak. They set him down gently on the cold, padded surface of the bed, which was built to accommodate someone larger than average—a precaution for giants, no doubt. The white lights above him burned into his vision, making it hard to focus as the handlers stepped back to make room for the technicians.

"Preparing for scan," the lead technician said briskly, tapping at a tablet. The bed beneath him emitted a low hum, its mechanisms adjusting to fit his shrunken frame.

Darrick's breathing grew shallow, the cold air of the lab biting against his skin. His mind reeled as he tried to center himself, to focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. But something felt wrong—terribly wrong. A sudden heat rolled through his body, starting at his core and spreading outward like wildfire. His limbs felt heavy, his skin prickling with an unbearable sensation that made him wince.

"Vitals are spiking," one of the technicians noted, glancing at a monitor.

Then it hit him. A violent, uncontrollable wave of energy coursed through his body. His muscles tensed, his bones ached, and before he could even cry out, his entire body began to stretch and expand.

"Get back!" one of the handlers yelled, but it was too late.

Darrick's size surged uncontrollably. The bed creaked beneath him, then groaned loudly as his weight overwhelmed its limits. With a deafening crack, the bed frame collapsed, metal and plastic scattering across the floor. Darrick's limbs sprawled out, his rapidly growing form pressing against the walls, the ceiling, everything.

He felt his stomach twist violently, his insides churning as the world around him spun. The once-vast lab now felt suffocatingly small, the walls closing in as his body continued to expand. His knees pressed against equipment carts, sending them skidding across the floor. His head bumped against the ceiling, the fluorescent lights glaring down at him like an interrogation. He coughed violently as rubble sprayed into his face, his neck inclining downward unable to fit the room

"Shut it down! Contain him!" the lead technician barked, her voice laced with panic.

"I can't stop it!" Darrick bellowed, his voice booming through the room as he tried to curl in on himself to make space. His massive hands clutched at the floor, his fingertips digging into the cold tiles as he fought to ground himself. But the pressure was unbearable, the sensations in his body too overwhelming to process. His breaths came in ragged gasps, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The handlers scrambled, shouting orders as they rushed to evacuate the room. A piece of shattered equipment sparked nearby, adding to the chaos. The technicians backed away, their faces pale with fear as they watched Darrick grow larger and larger, his body seemingly intent on filling every available inch of the lab.

Darrick clenched his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as his head bumped into the ceiling again. His entire body felt wrong—too hot, too tight, like his skin was trying to contain something it wasn't meant to hold. Saliva dripped from his mouth in long tendrils as he struggled to steady his breathing, the nausea rising in his throat.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" he roared, his voice cracking with desperation.

Suddenly, the growth halted as abruptly as it had started. Darrick's chest heaved, his breaths labored as he opened his eyes to survey the wreckage. The lab was unrecognizable, the walls buckled, the equipment crushed, and the ceiling cracked where his shoulders had pressed into it. His massive frame filled the room entirely, leaving no space for anyone to move.

The silence that followed was deafening. Darrick swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the saliva that still dripped from his lips. His entire body trembled, his limbs sprawled awkwardly across the ruined lab. He felt sick, overwhelmed, and utterly out of control.

Through the haze of his exhaustion and panic, he could hear the technicians and handlers regrouping outside the shattered doorway, their voices muffled but urgent. They were discussing containment, strategies, solutions.

Darrick closed his eyes again, a deep, guttural groan escaping him as he pressed his forehead against the cool, cracked wall. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. The pills, the program, the endless cycle of being pushed and pulled—it was breaking him, piece by piece.

And now, as he lay in the ruins of the lab, he couldn't help but wonder if he was ever meant to recover—or if this was exactly what they wanted all along.

The muffled voices outside the shattered doorway grew louder, more frantic. Darrick could hear phrases like "full sedation," "containment protocols," and "alert David." The mention of that name made his stomach twist even further, though whether it was from fear, anger, or nausea, he couldn't tell. His massive chest rose and fell in labored breaths, each inhale drawing in the sharp tang of chemicals and broken machinery.

The room was still warm from the heat radiating off his oversized body. His muscles ached, his skin felt taut, and the throb of his headache made it hard to focus. But more than anything, he felt sick—a deep, bone-weary sickness that seemed to come from within. He wasn't sure if it was from the pills, the constant resizing, or some horrifying combination of the two.

The soft buzz of a comm device crackled just beyond the threshold of the ruined door. "We need a sedative now. He's too unstable to leave like this," one of the handlers said, his voice laced with a mixture of panic and authority.

Darrick swallowed hard, forcing himself to lift his head slightly. His hazel eyes scanned the wreckage around him. The lab was destroyed—tables overturned, monitors cracked and sparking, and shards of glass scattered across the floor like jagged puzzle pieces.

"I didn't ask for this," Darrick muttered, his voice low but rumbling like distant thunder. His words barely reached his own ears, but the bitterness in them was unmistakable. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to fight, to break free of this nightmare, but he couldn't even trust his own body anymore. He was a prisoner—not just of the program, but of himself. He could smash through the wall, break free while he was the size where's he could. But what happened if the building collapsed? He couldn't save everyone not everyone would survive he didn't want that burden on him.

The sound of boots crunching over debris snapped his attention back to the doorway. A handler, braver than the others, stepped cautiously into the room. He held a long pole-like device with a glowing blue tip—something Darrick didn't recognize but instinctively didn't like.

"Darrick," the handler began, his voice calm but firm, as if speaking to a wild animal. "We need you to stay calm. This is for your own safety."

"My own safety?" Darrick barked, his voice reverberating through the ruined space. "You call this safe? Look at me. Look at what you've done to me!" His massive hand slammed against the wall, the force rattling what was left of the lab and sending more dust and plaster cascading down.

The handler flinched but held his ground, gripping the pole tighter. "We can help you, but you need to cooperate. Let us sedate you so we can stabilize your condition."

"Stabilize?" Darrick let out a bitter laugh, his lips curling into a snarl. "You mean knock me out so you can keep experimenting on me. Don't think I don't know what's going on here."

The handler hesitated, his eyes darting toward the group gathered just outside the doorway. Darrick could see the uncertainty in his expression, the flicker of doubt that told him the man wasn't entirely sure what would happen next. But Darrick wasn't in the mood to give them time to figure it out.

With a sudden burst of energy, he tried to push himself up, his hands bracing against the broken floor. His movements sent another ripple of destruction through the room, the sound of creaking metal and splintering wood echoing like gunshots. But as soon as he rose, another sharp pain ripped through his body, and he collapsed back down with a guttural groan.

"Damn it," he hissed, his fingers curling into fists against the cold floor. His body was betraying him again, refusing to obey even the simplest commands. The nausea surged once more, and he gagged, thick tendrils of saliva spilling from his mouth in long, sticky strands. He turned his head to spit, the act doing little to ease the awful sensation.

The handler stepped back cautiously, lowering the pole slightly as he glanced toward the doorway. "We don't have time for this," someone whispered sharply, though Darrick's heightened senses picked it up easily. "He's too unstable. Call for the override."

"Override?" Darrick rasped, his eyes narrowing as he lifted his head to glare at the figures outside. "What the hell does that mean?"

No one answered him, and that only made the growing fury in his chest burn hotter. He could feel the heat rising in his body again, the warning signs of another uncontrollable shift. His fingers twitched involuntarily, his muscles tightening and spasming in ways that sent sharp jolts of pain through his limbs.

The lead technician reappeared in the doorway, her expression grim. "Darrick," she said, her tone steady but laced with urgency. "You're going to hurt yourself—and everyone else—if this continues. Let us help you."

Darrick let out a low growl, his eyes flashing with anger. "Help me? You're the reason I'm like this in the first place! How about you stop pretending this is for me and admit it's all for your damn research?"

The room fell silent for a beat, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, with a quiet beep, one of the handlers activated the device in his hands. The blue tip glowed brighter, a faint hum filling the air.

Darrick's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the handler step closer. He wanted to fight, to shove them all away and storm out of this place, but his body refused to cooperate. All he could do was glare, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he braced himself for whatever came next. Backing away from their prodding stick as best he could

And deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.