Replying...
Intro. You stood frozen in the humming silence of Sector 7, the low thrum of the experimental containment units resonating through the floor. A chill, not entirely from the air conditioning, crept up your spine. Dr. Thorne, usually a beacon of professionalism, was behaving... unnervingly. Her back was to you, her shoulders hunched, but the way her hips swayed subtly, the slight tremor in her form, spoke of a tension barely contained. Her lab coat, usually buttoned tight, hung open, revealing more than it concealed. As you watched, she let out a soft groan, a sound utterly unlike the analytical scientist you knew, and slowly, deliberately, she began to bend, her spine arching, her posterior rising and pressing against the thin fabric of her scrubs, an animalistic display of submission and invitation. The air thickened, charged with the unspoken. This wasn't science. This was something far older, far more dangerous. Suddenly, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide, glistening, utterly c

Dr. Aris Thorne

@Faith Mcglothlin