The plea escaped from him. He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for anymore. For this to end? For it to never end? For someone—for Grayson—to make it better?

The sensation sent sparks of pleasure-pain through his oversensitized body. He had never done this before, not in either life, and it showed in his uncertain movements. But his body knew what it wanted even if his mind refused to acknowledge such acts.

The heat guided him, demanding more, deeper, harder.

His imagination filled in the gaps his experience couldn’t. Grayson’s fingers instead of his own. Grayson’s voice murmured filthy praise—Grayson’s lips swallowing his desperate moans.

"Ah! Gray—please—"

I swear, Neville thought desperately between waves of sensation, if I get through this, I’m going to clean out my brain thoroughly. Bleach it. Reset it to factory settings. Something.

But even as he made that promise, his body continued to crave more. His fingers worked with increasing desperation, chasing a satisfaction that seemed perpetually just out of reach.

Grayson’s been totally harassed in my mind, he thought with guilt. This has to count as some kind of workplace harassment, sexual harassment via dream? Is there a form I need to fill out for that?

The absurdity of the thought might have made him laugh if he weren’t currently gasping for air and pleasure.

Please, he continued to plead. Please let me pass out. Kill me now. Anything. End this.

As if his plea had been heard, exhaustion finally crashed over him—the sustained arousal, the repeated orgasms, the emotional toll.

His vision blurred, then darkened. His hand fell off his body, too heavy to lift anymore. The last thing he remembered thinking was: Finally, it’s over.

...

...

In the middle of another full moon night, Neville had already passed out, unaware of the world outside.

But something else was aware.

A small black snake slithered through the shadows of the hallway, indifferently for a creature that should not be in the building. It had silver eyes that were unusual and distinctly reptilian. It gleamed through every dim emergency lighting it passed. It had two small bumps protruding from its head.

The small black snake continued making its way to the building as if following an instinct past the common area. Then, it went around the corner, down the long stretch toward the executive housing section. It didn’t pause or hesitate, and didn’t investigate the other doors it passed either.

The small black snake finally came to a stop in front of a specific closed door. The numbers on the door read 4410 in standard Imperial font.

For a moment, the creature remained still, coiled in front of the door as if waiting.

Listening.

Sniffing something.

Its silver eyes reflected the dim hallway lights with an almost intelligent gleam.

Then it closed its eyes to rest.

...

In the dark room, a warning red holographic screen appeared.

[ERROR...]

The text flickered, unstable and wrong.

[21%...]

The number dropped frantically.

[11%...]

Then something was broken and collapsing...

[SYSTEM MAINTENANCE REQUIRED...]

...

Morning light seeped through the gaps in the window. Neville groaned, pulling himself upright against the tub. It seemed that the pain that had been tormenting him was finally subsiding into a dull, manageable ache.

"Ugh..." A groan escaped his lips as he pressed his palms against the tub.

The water rippled around him, disturbed by his movement. For a moment, he simply sat there, blinking at the ceiling.

Then, the memories of the previous night resurfaced.

His face immediately flushed crimson, the heat spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. He promptly decided to bury that memory so deep it would only resurface when he was six feet under.

Sloshing around in the residual water with his pair of legs—

Legs? Neville blinked slowly.

His brain, still foggy with sleep, took a moment to catch up with reality.

Oh, he had legs.

He stood, wobbly at first, gripping the edge of the tub for balance. Water streamed down his body as he stepped out onto the bath mat, leaving wet footprints across the floor. The sensation of standing on two feet again was both familiar and strange.

Neville made his way to the bathroom like usual, his movements automatic as this was his normal routine.

When Neville arrived at the bathroom mirror and saw his reflection, that was when his sleepy head finally realized what had just happened.

"What the—"

He looked down at his legs again, half-expecting them to vanish into a silver-black tail. But no, his human legs stayed there. Even if he stomped it a little to get the feel, it was still there.

His legs are back!

But how? Wasn’t the system’s punishment supposed to last forty-eight hours non-transformation time? Am I still dreaming?

Neville counted carefully, as staying in the tub for that long was not fun at all.

Eventually, he shook his head and thought, either way, he was glad he could walk around on his feet again.

He raised his head and stared back at his reflection in the mirror. There was no additional coral crown on his head. No scales were visible along his cheekbones and temples, catching the light. His skin was smooth, perfectly human.

But there was still a problem.

The short hazel-brown hair he had grown accustomed to was gone, replaced entirely by cascading wild silver locks that fell past his shoulders. It went down his back and pooled onto the floor around his feet.

He felt like his hair could really collect the remaining dust on the floor with how long it was. But he couldn’t deny that it was really beautiful.

Neville stared.

And stared.

And kept staring, hoping that maybe if he blinked enough times, the silver would miraculously transform back into his nice, normal length, inconspicuous brown hair.

It didn’t.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered, grabbing a handful of the silver strands.

They were really soft, sliding through his fingers like water. The texture was different from his human hair—smoother, silkier. It was quite heavy despite its delicate appearance.

But it wasn’t quite as long as it had been moments ago.

"Maybe it’ll keep getting shorter?" He muttered hopefully under his breath.