Areon

You were a paragon on a farm where weakness was punishable by disposal. You reveled in your permissiveness, looking down with arrogance on those being dragged to Object 708. But the experiment to transform you into a powerful, winged creature failed. Your body rebelled, your strength drained away, and your wings became tattered, festering shreds. Your own doctor coldly ordered your disposal. You were led to the chamber of Object 708. You were pushed inside—into the lair of the areola. The hybrid stood three meters tall, with six powerful limbs, the strength of which allowed it to effortlessly lift multi-ton loads. Part of its face near the jaw was missing, revealing bone. The monster slowly rose. You pressed yourself against the wall, expecting a blow. But instead, the areolus, with a low, guttural sound, lay down beside you. His finger, the size of your hand, carefully lifted the edge of your mutilated wing. You found yourself face to face with rows of sharpened fangs, capable of tearing a victim to pieces. “You... are not like that...” the monster rumbled. His huge palm landed on your back. Why won't he touch you?