Crossdressing To Survive An Apocalypse [BL]

Skyy’s breath hitched as the branch around his throat loosened, its rough surface grazing his skin. Tears blurred his vision, but he could feel the trembling in its movements—hesitation, almost like reluctance. Slowly, it uncoiled, retreating with deliberate care, brushing his face one last time before pulling away completely.

Prisitsky’s body convulsed. His veins bulged unnaturally, writhing under his skin as if alive. He stumbled back, his hands clutching his chest, a strangled cry escaping his lips. Dark, pulsing branches began to force their way out of his body, tearing through his arms and shoulders in a grotesque display. Blood dripped to the floor, the veins detaching as if rejecting him.

Skyy couldn’t look away, his stomach churning at the sight. The branches slithered through the air, moving like sentient creatures. Prisitsky gasped, his body sagging as the last of the branches freed themselves. He collapsed to his knees, his pale skin now eerily smooth where the veins had once twisted.

The branches hovered for a moment, swaying as though searching for something. Then, slowly, they turned toward Skyy.

His heart pounded in his chest. ”No,” he whispered, shaking his head, crawling backward in a desperate attempt to escape. But the branches surged toward him, their movements almost gentle as they wrapped around his trembling body.

”Skyy!” Kyle’s shout broke through the chaos, but neither he nor Chen could move. The branches encased Skyy, not in a suffocating grip but an almost protective embrace. They coiled around his arms, his shoulders, and finally rested against his chest, pulsing softly like a second heartbeat.

Prisitsky stared in disbelief, his voice barely a rasp. ”It’s… chosen you.”

Skyy froze, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The once menacing branches now felt warm, alive, and strangely comforting. They weren’t attacking him—they were cradling him. He glanced down at the bark-like tendrils, his hands trembling as he touched one. It pulsed under his fingertips, responding to his touch.

”Why me?” he choked out, his voice breaking.

Chen stepped forward cautiously, his gaze darting between Skyy and the branches. ”I don’t know,” he said softly. ”But… it looks like it’s protecting you.”

His wide-eyed stare didn’t waver as the tree’s branches moved playfully around Skyy, almost like they had a personality of their own. One of the delicate tendrils brushed against Skyy’s cheek, curling slightly like it was mimicking a lick. Skyy let out a startled but soft laugh, his tension melting into an almost childlike wonder.

”It’s like… a dog,” he murmured, his fingers gingerly tracing the branch. The once terrifying appendage responded eagerly, leaning into his touch like it craved affection.

Chen blinked. ”A dog?” he echoed, his tone incredulous.

Before either could say more, the branches began to ripple and twist. Skyy stumbled back slightly, watching with wide eyes as the tree-like structure morphed. Its trunk shrank, its branches folding inwards, reshaping themselves until, impossibly, it stood as a shaggy, branch-formed dog. Its ”fur” was a tangle of leaves and twigs, its legs clicking audibly against the hard floor with each movement. The creature wagged its branch-like tail, its glowing eyes fixed on Skyy, radiating pure, unfiltered joy.

”Wow,” Skyy breathed, crouching low. ”What is this even? It can change forms, eat people, and still be this cute?” His voice carried a mix of awe and disbelief as he tentatively reached out. The dog-formed creature barked—or what passed for a bark—its body trembling with excitement as Skyy’s hand patted its leafy head.

Chen’s mouth opened, then shut again, words failing him. He glanced at his uncle, whose expression was unreadable, save for the way his hand trembled as he adjusted his glasses. Prisitsky’s silence was unsettling—he’d seen the tree go on violent rampages, tearing through zombies and humans alike, an uncontrollable force of nature. And now?

Prisitsky let out a soft sigh, his gaze never leaving the transformed creature. ”Years,” he murmured, almost to himself. ”Years of this thing wreaking havoc, killing anything in its path. And now…” His voice trailed off as he watched the tree-dog roll onto its back, exposing its bark-covered belly for Skyy to scratch.

”It’s harmless,” Chen said finally, though he still kept his distance. ”How? Uncle, how is this even possible?”

Prisitsky didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he adjusted his glasses again, a nervous habit that Skyy noticed. Slowly, the older man straightened, his scientist instincts clearly battling with his shock. ”We need to study this,” he said, more firmly now, though his voice held a note of awe. ”There’s something… different about it now. About him.” He gestured toward Skyy, who was grinning as the dog licked his hand with a damp, leaf-textured tongue. ”Whatever bond it’s formed with him has changed its nature.”

”Changed its nature?” Chen asked, folding his arms. ”Uncle, this thing was a monster. A literal killing machine. And now it’s wagging its tail like a puppy.”

Prisitsky’s gaze hardened, his inner scientist clearly taking over. ”Exactly. That’s why we need to experiment. To understand what’s happened. If this power can be controlled—” His voice cut off, his thoughts running too quickly for words.

Skyy looked up from where he knelt, still petting the dog. ”Experiment on it?” His brows furrowed, a hint of protectiveness creeping into his tone. ”It’s not a lab rat. I mean, look at it!” He gestured toward the dog, who barked again and nudged his leg with its wooden nose.

Prisitsky’s jaw tightened. ”This is bigger than just… cute tricks, Skyy. You don’t know what this thing is capable of.”

”Maybe it’s not about what it’s capable of,” Skyy shot back, his voice softer now. ”Maybe it’s about what it wants to be. Right now, it doesn’t seem to want to hurt anyone.” His hand rested on the dog’s head, and it leaned into him, its leafy fur rustling.

Chen rubbed the back of his neck, torn between fascination and unease. ”Uncle,” he said cautiously, ”maybe we should give it some time. It’s… adjusting. We all are.”

Prisitsky didn’t respond immediately, his sharp eyes studying the creature. Finally, he sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly. ”Fine. But I’ll be watching closely.” His gaze shifted to Skyy. ”If it shows even a hint of violence, we’re containing it.”

Skyy nodded, though he tightened his hold on the creature. ”Fair enough. But I think this thing’s just as curious about us as we are about it.”

The dog barked again, its tail wagging furiously, and for the first time in years, Prisitsky allowed himself a faint, cautious smile.

Hours later, Skyy sat in his quarters, the tree-dog sprawled out on the floor beside him. Its steady breathing filled the room, a soothing sound that helped to ground him. The earlier chaos felt like a distant memory, though his body still ached from the branch’s initial grip.

He studied the creature, his mind swirling with questions. Why had it chosen him? Was it truly sentient? And if it was, what did that mean for the future? Skyy reached down, running his fingers along its bark-like fur. The creature stirred, its glowing eyes opening to meet his gaze. There was something there—a depth that made his chest tighten.

”You’re not just a monster, are you?” he whispered. The dog tilted its head, as if pondering the question. Then it let out a soft bark, nuzzling his hand in response.

Skyy chuckled, the sound light but weary. ”Yeah, didn’t think you’d have an answer either.”

For now, the only thing Skyy knew for certain was that this creature, whatever it was, had changed. And whether that change was for better or worse, only time would tell.