I'm loosing control completely

Darrick's breath came in ragged, shallow gasps as his massive body trembled uncontrollably. His chest rose and fell like the swell of a stormy sea, and the unbearable hunger clawed at his insides with a ferocity that left him powerless to resist. His mind was a battlefield, a chaotic swirl of primal instincts and fractured reasoning, but the hunger was winning—relentless, overwhelming, consuming.

The handlers edged closer, their long poles tipped with sedative needles at the ready. Their faces betrayed the thin veneer of professionalism they tried to maintain, their fear evident in the way their hands shook as they adjusted their grips.

"Darrick!" one of them barked, his voice commanding but wavering. "Stop this now! We're here to help you!"

But the words were lost in the roar of Darrick's pounding heartbeat and the insatiable growl of his stomach. His mouth watered uncontrollably, long strands of saliva dripping from his lips to the floor in thick, glistening tendrils. He spat into the tile, a splatter of saliva pooling around his knees, but it did nothing to ease the wetness flooding his mouth. The scent of sweat and fear in the air sharpened, mingling with the sterile chemical tang of the lab, and his stomach churned violently in response.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he grimaced as he tasted the metallic tang of his own saliva. It wasn't enough—not even close. The need for something, anything, burned hotter and brighter, and his mind raced with irrational thoughts he couldn't control.

His hazel eyes, usually soft and warm, were now unrecognizable—blown wide, pupils dilated so much that only a thin ring of hazel remained. They darted around the room, unfocused and wild, as if he were searching for something unseen, it was something primal.

Saliva dripped in long, viscous strands from his open mouth, splattering onto the cracked tiles beneath him. His lips twitched, curling back slightly to reveal his teeth, and his breath came out in short, sharp huffs, more like a predator cornered than a person trying to collect himself. The sound of his stomach growling reverberated through the room, deep and animalistic, as if his very body were rebelling against him, demanding to be sated.

The muscles in his jaw flexed uncontrollably, his teeth grinding audibly

"Vitals are unstable," a technician muttered from somewhere in the corner, their voice barely registering in Darrick's ears as the blue device beeped madly in their hands. "The metabolic shift... it's accelerating."

"Contain him," another voice ordered sharply. "Get that sedative ready NOW before—"

Darrick slammed his hand down against the floor, silencing the voices as the sound of cracking tiles filled the room. His hunger flared again, sharper this time, and he clenched his teeth against the wave of nausea that followed. He felt like his body was trying to devour itself from the inside out, like no amount of food could ever satisfy the black hole in his gut. His size so exhausting, so debilitating he needed any sustenance, something to fill his empty stomach and now!

His gaze darted toward the technicians, his vision narrowing as he focused on the faint movement of their hands, the glint of sweat on their brows. For a horrifying moment, a thought flitted across his mind—one he immediately shoved away. No. No. That's not me. I'm not an animal.

But his body didn't care about rationality. His stomach growled again,

Darrick's hazel eyes darted toward the nearest handler, his vision narrowing as the hunger surged again. His body moved on instinct, his massive hand swiping forward with startling speed and knocking the man to the ground. The force of the blow sent the sedative pole clattering across the floor as the handler cried out in shock.

The others froze, their wide-eyed expressions filled with panic and uncertainty. For a moment, no one moved, the air thick with tension.

Darrick's trembling hand wrapped around the fallen handler, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The man struggled, his gloved hands pressing against Darrick's fingers as he twisted and kicked in vain. But Darrick was too strong, his grip unyielding as he brought the handler closer to his face.

His hazel eyes were wild, unfocused, as he tilted his head back slightly and opened his mouth. Saliva dripped freely from his lips, pooling on his tongue and spilling over his teeth in long, viscous strands. The scent of the handler's fear filled his senses, sharp and intoxicating, and Darrick's tongue darted out instinctively, tasting the air.

"No! Darrick, stop!" one of the technicians screamed, their voice breaking with panic.

But Darrick couldn't stop. His stomach roared, and the primal need to consume overpowered every rational thought. His massive mouth closed halfway, the handler's legs dangling between his lips as he hesitated, the taste of his sweat and uniform flooding his tongue.

Somewhere deep inside, the real Darrick—the one who protected, who loved, who cared—screamed for him to stop. The taste on his tongue, the weight of the man in his mouth—it disgusted him. It wasn't who he was. But the hunger drowned out everything else, roaring louder than his conscience.

"Secure him!" someone shouted, their voice frantic.

Before they could act, Darrick instinctively sucked the handler fully into his mouth, his massive jaws closing around him. The man flailed, his muffled cries vibrating against Darrick's tongue as his saliva pooled around the handler in thick, sticky waves. Moaning lowly, he let the large muscle of his tongue play with the man in his mouth, sucking on every inch of his worming body.

Darrick froze, his body trembling as his mind snapped back into focus.

What am I doing?

His hazel eyes widened in horror, and with a low, guttural groan, he spit the handler out, the man tumbling onto the floor in a heap of saliva. The wet sound of him hitting the tile was nauseating, and Darrick recoiled, his massive hands wiping at his tongue as if he could erase the taste.

"Get him out of here!" one of the technicians ordered, two handlers rushing to drag the sodden man away.

Darrick's stomach churned violently, the hunger momentarily overshadowed by the overwhelming disgust and shame that coursed through him. His body shook as he doubled over, his forehead nearly touching the floor as he clawed at his chest.

"I didn't—" he choked out, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to—" large tears streamed down his face, mortified by his actions.

A sharp pain shot through his side as a sedative needle pierced his skin, delivering its payload with ruthless efficiency. Darrick roared, the sound vibrating through the room as his muscles seized and trembled.

Through the haze of his panic and pain, he caught a glimpse of movement in the observation room above. A tall figure stood behind the one-way glass, his hands clasped behind his back as he observed the chaos below. David.

Darrick's hazel eyes locked onto the faint outline of his face, the smirk that played on his lips. David wasn't yelling orders or trying to stop the handlers—he was just watching, his expression calm and calculating, as if he were taking mental notes on every move Darrick made.

"You planned this," Darrick nearly sobbed, his voice slurred as the sedative began to take hold. "You... did this to me..."

But David didn't respond. He simply tilted his head slightly, his cold, analytical gaze fixed on Darrick as the giant's body crumpled to the floor.

Darrick's vision blurred as his head hit the tiles, the last of his strength leaving him. The hunger still clawed at him, faint but persistent, even as the sedative dulled his senses.

The last thing he saw before his eyes closed was David's silhouette, unmoving, watching, waiting.

And then, darkness.