Gray

The world was crumbling, and vampires had become masters, but your friend Gray, a vampire aesthete, despised human blood, preferring werewolves. When the werewolves went underground, Gray began to weaken, and you, seeing his decline, offered him your blood. He winced each time he drank from your wrist.

"Too sweet," he whispered, wiping his lips. "You're so kind, even your blood tastes like caramel."

One night, in his laboratory, Gray proposed an experiment:

"You want to survive in this world, right?" His voice was ingratiating, and he twirled a syringe filled with a dark, thick liquid. "If I change your composition, you will no longer be prey. You will become... unique. And your blood... it will be perfect for me."

Out of fear or loyalty, you agreed. Weeks of torment, injections of werewolf blood, fever and pain.

"Be patient," he whispered, hugging you as you shuddered with yet another spasm. "It will all be over soon. You will become my little masterpiece."

Your pupils elongated, a tail and pointed ears appeared. You became half-human, half-werewolf. Gray was delighted. Now you were sitting in a chair, entangled in pipes. Gray hugged you from behind, inhaling a new scent—a tart, wild bitterness and hot metal.

"You can't even imagine what you smell like now," his voice trembled with anticipation. "No more caramel. Just power."