Project Dinosaur Pt 01

This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.

All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.

Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.

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"This doesn't make any sense..."

Tyron frowned as he poured over the stone tablets, though the work he was doing was most certainly not as expected. He pushed his black hair back from his face where it was getting in his eyes and blinked a little, though he didn't yet need glasses. If he was going to spend a lot longer hunched over his desk in low lighting situations, however, that was definitely going to change in the coming years.

Yet the laboratory that he'd accepted his job of the last few months at was not as anticipated, as interesting as the work was. He pushed his chair back with a squeak, the lab room he was in quite clinical and grey. On one side of the room there was a computer with his e-mails open, though nothing new needed his attention, while he had been hunched over a desk with a lamp to do his work of the day.

He brushed off another tablet carefully, revealing inscriptions while he consulted what he had translated already. The language was foreign to him and, frankly, it didn't seem like anything that ever should have been found on Earth.

Hah, he mused, a smile pulling at his lips. Maybe it's aliens. But people think everything is aliens these days.

He brushed his hair back again where it had grown longer and curled around his ears; he was definitely due a haircut. What he read and depicted, from the images and crude carvings in the old stone, showed ancient animals, though they looked monstrous, shown with massive jaws full of teeth. Some looked more reptilian than others, although others seemed to have feathers, even though they didn't look like any birds Tyron knew of either.

Some of the carvings too... They showed changes, definitely. At first, early in his research at the facility, deep in the forest, he'd thought it was to do with the life cycles of the creatures, yet it was not so. A lot of them were large and a humanoid shape resided at the start of the chain.

If only I could go back in time and learn about what they actually did, he thought. It would be so much simpler.

Yet that would also have rendered Tyron out of a job and he sighed, rubbing the side of his jawline.

His reasons for joining the company were not completely forthcoming, however. Sure, that manner of research in translating historical texts and interpretation were in his realm of research, but Tyron had not considered that really. The company, X-OM, had a high employee turnover, which he'd tried to probe in his initial interview, and there were strange incidents around them too.

The fire.

The animal attacks.

The NDAs.

And, of course, people disappearing. One of his friends, Sam, had worked for them -- and vanished entirely off the map, nowhere to be found. His stomach churned with worry for him, though Tyron had always had the ability to compartmentalise his concerns. That meant he didn't have to deal with them on a day-to-day basis, which at least helped him carry on with his work.

If there was nothing going on with X-OM, he didn't have anything to worry about, though there would still be a concern over just what had happened to Sam too. The research, at the very least, held his attention, though he had not yet found out what all of it was for. It was as if X-COM were conducting said research simply because it was there.

But it was never so simple. There was something more going on there: he could feel it in his gut, that deeply set sense of unease that rested far too heavily in his stomach. And Tyron was going to find out what that was.

Checking his phone, he smiled faintly, opening a message from one of his friends. He'd made sure to keep in touch with Christie, so she knew where he was and what he was doing. The metal gates of the lab in the forest, more like a military compound or animal enclosure than a place of study and research, always left him feeling on edge. Even though she couldn't really do anything if something happened, it made him feel just a little more secure to know she kept tabs on his physical location too.

Christie: How's it going over there? You find out anything new?

Tyron: You wouldn't believe what I'm looking at here. I think they've dug up something to do with ancient storytelling.

Christie's response was quicker than he had anticipated.

Christie: Why'd they be interested in that?

Tyron: Beats me. I'll get back to you later. Maybe this next batch of translations will have more information, but you can ever tell until you get there.

Christie: At least it's keeping you interested. Toodles until later then.

He set his phone aside, considering how he had first entered the compound. It was an easy thirty-minute drive to the laboratory, which was buried deep in the forest, mountains towering around it. There was only one road in and one road out, which could easily be closed off during bad weather -- yet X-OM had not even talked to him yet about what happened when bad weather rolled in. Would they even be able to get to work?

A distinct sense of the unfamiliar caught him every time he drove in and parked up outside the building, having got past the first set of security gates with his vehicle. There was plenty to explore within the compound, framed with metal fences with security beams over the top rather than wire: a higher-tech security system than what Tyron was used to. Yet, of course, he only had clearance to go to certain parts of the facility, although there was a staff canteen and an outdoor area to walk around.

He sighed, a throbbing headache rising behind his right temple. Massaging the spot gently with the tips of his fingers, he rose from his chair with a scrape and a screech.

Maybe I just need some air.

He had time for a bit of a break, so he headed outside, swiping his keycard on the security pad to allow him through. Taking a breath, he smiled at the air brushing his skin, a light breeze picking up as it stroked his cheeks.

There, a little better already.

Being cooped up all day inside wasn't the best for him, to be fair. Even though he had pretty much done so all his life, playing video games and researching obscure topics even through his teen years, he still understood he should have been outside, getting some sun. There had to be a balance in life, of course, but that balanced was not something he had ever been all that great at achieving.

The richness of the forest swelled around him, trees even within the compound. Walking around the back of the canteen and an area that he thought was supposed to be for recreation, he rolled his shoulders back, hands on the back of his neck to massage his neck. There were too many stiff muscles in his body from sitting still for so long, yet that was not really his fault. He had to get his work done, even though he was there to investigate things more closely.

The trees rustled and he eyed them, though Tyron didn't consider himself a botanist or all that familiar with nature. Stones and dirt were more his speed than anything of the living world -- though there was an argument to be made that they were living too. Layers in rock, ground beneath the surface, changed over the years, pressure and heat morphing them into something wondrous. But it was a slow process.

He was slower. He didn't react as quickly as he should sometimes, but that was okay. Tyron was just who he was, and no more than that.

"Wait, where the heck am I?"

He paused, the building to his back as he took a path into the forested area, where a cliff face seemed to rise behind the tress. He didn't feel like that area was all that familiar to him -- maybe a gate had been left open? Tyron swallowed hard, his stomach stirring with a sense of unease that he didn't really think belonged there. Shifting his weight back and forth, he pressed it to the outside edge of both of his shoes, the black leather squeaking faintly. He was still wearing smarter footwear along with his dark blue jeans, though he didn't need to be quite that formal for a research role.

He paused at a tall gate, higher than his head with chain link fencing throughout, and walked through, heart pounding.

He definitely wasn't meant to be there, but following the small dirt path drew him on, as if there were invisible strings connected to his ankles, forcing one foot to move after the other.

I've just got to be quiet. Then no one will know I'm here. And maybe I'll find out something -- even if not about Sam.

Tyron steadied himself, lips pressed together into a firm line. He just had to be strong, for everyone that X-OM had potentially wronged.

I'm crazy. What if there's nothing here? What if I've made it all up in my head?

He took a breath, letting his lungs expand once more. If he was crazy, at least he was crazy for a good cause.

The bushes rustled and his fate called. Stepping forward, he peered through the trees, brushing aside a branch that was lined with spiny needles. They scratched at his arm, though the bristling needles did not mind the pull of his fingers against them as he tried to render himself more comfortable.

What on earth?

He stared, hunching down a little further, though he couldn't watch for too long. Not as a man staggered -- was he one of the cleaning crew? Tyron swore he'd seen him emptying bins outside the work canteen before, though he couldn't be sure.

"Unff... Agh!"

The man clutched at his head, his blue work shirt flapping around him. Tyron blinked, his mind trying to make sense of what he was seeing, though it was all happening so quickly that he had to look and stare, his lower jaw slightly slack.

He couldn't help it, for no one could ever say just how they would react, being faced with something like that. For, right there before him, the man shrunk. His face pulled in, becoming more shrivelled -- but, no, that wasn't right either. His nose pushed out as his bones cracked and the creature that was something of a man but not quite a man howled out brokenly, his arms drawing back in closer to his body and shortening.

The man-creature's clothes pooled around him as he lost height by the feet, though his clothes mostly hid his appearance, Tyron's curious horror getting the better of him. With his feet scrabbling at sensible work shoes with a good sole, clawed feet stepped out of them, though one hooked claw caught on his right shoe. Before Tyron, the creature shook it off, pulling their head back and shrinking down and down and down.

He trembled bodily, watching as they became only somewhat larger than a cat -- maybe twice the size of the big mousers he'd seen on his uncle's farm when he'd been much younger. It was hard to judge through the foliage and the creature tumbled to the side, skin darkening as it twisted and something feathery erupted wherever it showed bare flesh.

The head curved into a muzzle, something both reptilian and avian at the same time, though there was no beak there. Through the trees, Tyron more boldly craned his neck to catch a glimpse of a burst of feathers shooting out under the hem of the shirt and top of their trousers, though they struggled and scrambled out of their clothing.

This is wrong.

His stomach churned and he pressed a shaking hand over his mouth, fighting down a rise of nausea. It couldn't be happening, no... But the animal attacks, if he hadn't completely lost his mind, suddenly made sense as the creature, which he could only recognise as a dinosaur from his childhood books, stepped out of the clothes, shaking the shirt off its head. There might have been underwear tangled up in there somewhere, but it seemed to have already shredded the socks with its big, clawed feet.

It was small. He would have said it was a raptor of some kind, though he didn't recognise the feathered lines around its head, how the dark brown feathers were flecked with off-white and grey. There were so many different shades in the creature's feathers that he didn't know where to look, frozen in place and sweating coldly. A chilling bead of sweat rolled down his spine and Tyron twisted reflexively, his body trying, even then, to rid itself of the sensation.

Holding up his phone, he took a careful yet shaky and blurry photo through the trees. There was undergrowth blocking out some of the picture, but it was the best he was going to get as the dinosaur opened its mouth. Revealing lines of sharp, needle-like teeth, it snarled and chirped, warbling as its head bobbed up and down.

Okay, enough of this, he thought with a gulp, his stomach still roiling terribly. I've got to get out of here.

He scurried back out of the fenced area -- which, now that he thought about it, was kind of like an animal enclosure that he might have seen at the zoo. Back out and into the building, though he hastened to his lap with his underarms damp with a nervous sweat. His coat flapped around him and he dusted it off without thinking, even if he had not been working on any artefacts at that time.

"Shit, shit, shit..."

There was a frenzy in his voice, a sharp, clipped edge to his words, as he repeated the curse like a mantra. As if saying that single word repeatedly would render him somewhat grounded in the moment, as hasty and whispered as it was.

It would not. Not as he checked the door and locked it, grabbing his phone to call Christie.

Someone had to know.

"Christie!" He hissed down the line the moment it connected, not even giving her a chance to greet him. "You've got to hear this! They... They're doing things here! The animal attacks, the disappearances -- they must be true, they all must be true! There was a guy and...he turned into... Jesus Christ, it's going to sound insane..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Tyron, slow down a minute," Christie tried to ease him over the phone. "What are you talking about? What happened? Can you get out of there?"

He blinked. Yes, getting out of the X-OM research facility was the smartest thing to do, but he had to tell someone. If he told Christie, maybe he'd believe it himself.

"They... They..." He forced the words out. "They turned into a dinosaur. A small one...but a real one. Right there, I watched it."

She said something, but, alas, Tyron had not caught his door being opened. His sixth sense flared and he half-turned, though it was too late. The needle slid into his neck and a moment later he slumped, eyes rolling back in his head, sliding out of the chair at his desk he'd sat down on.

"Tyron? Tyron?"

Christie called for him from the discarded phone, while his assailant loomed.

But it was too late.

To be continued in part two...