That Time I got Turned Into a Dragonoid

I the boss of ##@*#* branch 1 ordering everyone to start the final experiment.

Two bodyguards entered the stark room where Asta was held captive, their heavy boots echoing on the cold concrete floor. They paused for a moment, taking in the sight of Asta, whose clothing was nearly shredded from the relentless torture he had endured.

"Damn, this guy is so cute, he literally looks like a flat-chested girl," the first bodyguard murmured, eyeing Asta with a mix of amusement and incredulity.

"Can we f*ck him after he turns into a girl?" he asked, half-joking, half-curious, as he nudged his companion with his elbow.

The second bodyguard responded with a sharp tone, his expression stern. "Absolutely not! Raping is strictly prohibited," he reprimanded firmly, ensuring there was no misunderstanding about their orders.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." the first guard muttered, rolling his eyes but nodding in acknowledgment of the protocol.

He stepped closer to Asta, observing that he was indeed unconscious, which made their task somewhat simpler. "Looks like he's out cold. Well, that makes our job a bit easier," he commented dryly, ready to proceed with their assigned duties without further distractions.

They unlocked the chains and dragged him from the ground and took him out of the room.

Few hours passes...

Asta's eyes fluttered open as he was jostled roughly. His head throbbed painfully, a stark reminder of his grim reality. As his vision cleared, the all-too-familiar stark white walls of the room came into focus. He groaned, his voice raspy from disuse.

"Akh..akh.. huh? As always, the same freaking white room. Could've at least changed the color," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with a weary sarcasm.

Lifting his head, he saw the scientist standing before him, that perennially unsettling smile plastered on his face. The man's appearance was as disheveled as ever, adding to the overall griminess of the situation.

"Man, at least take a shower. You stink," Asta quipped, trying to mask his discomfort with humor, though his voice barely carried across the sterile room.

The scientist's laughter echoed off the walls, a sound devoid of genuine amusement. "Hahaha... still joking after all these tortures..."

He leaned closer, his gaze intense as he observed Asta. "At least try to notice something, there are some changes in you," he said, his tone a mix of taunt and triumph, suggesting that the experiments had altered Asta in ways yet unseen.

"Changes?"

A look of stunned disbelief washed over Asta's face, his eyebrows arching high in surprise as a cold realization set in. He patted down his body frantically, his hands searching for something that was undeniably missing.

"Wait... wait... wait... This can't be... this can't be..." His voice was a mix of panic and incredulity. "I can't feel... my little brother down there."

"You motherfucker, give my dick back!" he shouted, his anger peaking as he glared at the scientist with a fury only betrayal could kindle.

"I know you're into some magical crap, give it back, give it back now!" His demand was desperate, tinged with a raw edge of vulnerability.

"So noisy," the scientist replied coolly, dismissing Asta's pleas with a wave of his hand.

"This isn't the time to worry about your... appendage. We're moving on to the final phase of the experiment," he stated matter-of-factly, signaling the guards to prepare Asta for what was to come.

He produced a 100ml test tube, the glass shimmering with a luminous, crimson liquid inside.

"You guessed correctly; it's true dragon blood," he announced with a chilling smile.

Extracting the crimson fluid with a syringe, he injected it into Asta's right arm. Asta watched, bracing himself, initially feeling nothing more than the slight sting of the needle.

'What the... Nothing's happening. All that buildup for this?' Asta thought, almost relieved.

But then, the transformation began. The injected blood ignited a ferocious pain that tore through his veins like wildfire. Asta's scream pierced the sterile air of the room as he experienced an agony so profound it felt as though his very bones were being pulverized. His muscles seemed to twist and contort, as if his body was being torn apart from the inside out.

'Shit...shit...shit... It feels like every torture I've endured so far has been combined and magnified a thousand times over,' he gasped, his voice a hoarse whisper between clenched teeth. Each pulse of pain was like a hammer striking his nerves, relentless and overwhelming, threatening to shred his sanity into tatters.

His tormentor cackled malevolently, reveling in Asta's agony. "Kehehehe, can't bear the pain, can you? This is what you get for mocking me."

Asta's response was a venomous glare, his eyes alight with undiminished fury despite his suffering. "Shut up, you hideous cretin," he spat through gritted teeth. "Just you wait. After I survive this, you'll be the first I come for."

The scientist's face twisted with rage at Asta's defiance and the repeated insults to his appearance. "You little—"

Driven by his mounting anger, the scientist retrieved another test tube, this one filled with a blood that shimmered with a mesmerizing blend of blue and purple hues. Without a word, he filled another syringe with the exotic liquid and administered it into Asta's other arm.

The room thickened with tension as the new substance coursed through Asta's veins, merging with the fiery torment of the True dragon blood already wreaking havoc within him.

The pain from the second injection was excruciating, surpassing any torment Asta had endured before. It seared through his veins like liquid fire, scorching every nerve ending with an intensity that bordered on the unbearable. His mind teetered on the brink of madness, the agony so profound that his ability to scream was stifled—he could only gasp in silent despair, his body convulsing uncontrollably as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

As the pain escalated beyond human tolerance, even the scientist who had inflicted this cruel experiment recognized the severity of his mistake. Panic flitted across his features as he realized the potential consequences of his actions. "Oh, no... What have I done? If the boss finds out, it's over for me."

With a desperate glance at the writhing figure of Asta, the scientist made a hasty decision. "I need to cover this up," he muttered, his voice laced with fear. He turned on his heel and sprinted from the room, his mind racing with thoughts of escape. "I'll just report that the subject couldn't withstand the procedure," he reasoned as he disappeared, leaving Asta alone in his torment.

Overwhelmed by the indescribable agony, Asta's thoughts spiraled into chaos. "I can't take it anymore. This pain... it's too much," he gasped, the sharpness of the torment slicing through any semblance of endurance he had left. 'They say your life flashes before your eyes, but that's just dramatic nonsense...'

His mind, grappling with the intensity of the pain, flickered to thoughts of his closest friend. 'If I'm going out, I wish I could see my bro one last time... Damn, why am I thinking about him now? I should be thinking about my family.'

But truth be told, his friend was the closest thing to family he'd ever really had—their bond was the most genuine connection in his tumultuous life. 'Our partnership... it was the only good dynamic I had.'

As the pain crescendoed beyond the limits of his consciousness, Asta's vision blurred, his sense of reality slipping away. With one final, strained thought of his friend, he succumbed to the overwhelming darkness, his body unable to sustain consciousness any longer. Asta fainted, his last conscious thought a silent farewell to the only semblance of brotherhood he'd ever known.

Asta's eyes fluttered open slowly, confusion clouding his senses.

"Huh? What happened?, How long has it been" he murmured, his voice laced with bewilderment.

Struggling to regain his balance, he rose unsteadily to his feet, his movements hindered by an unfamiliar sensation.

"Why is my balance not working properly?" Asta wondered aloud, his mind grappling with the sudden disorientation.

Astonishment flickered across hid features as he surveyed his surroundings, a sense of incredulity washing over him.

"Whoa... Was I always this tall?" he mused, his voice tinged with disbelief.

But it was when his gaze fell upon his own body that the full extent of the transformation dawned upon him.

"The room looks smaller," Asta observed, his voice trailing off as realization dawned.

As his eyes drifted downward, a gasp escaped his lips, his hands instinctively reaching to touch the unfamiliar contours that now adorned his chest.

"Huh? What are these things on my chest?" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What... they're soft."

Asta's eyes widened in shock as the truth dawned upon her, herworld shattering with the realization that he, a 17-year-old boy, had been transformed into a fully-fledged mature woman, her appearance mirroring that of someone aged 27 or 28.

His once-slightly long hair now cascaded in waves of purple around his face, framing features that seemed sculpted by an artist's hand. 

His eyes, one blazing crimson red and the other shimmering in vibrant blue, held a depth of mystery in his eyes.

Standing at an impressive height of 178cm, Asta marveled at the curves of his new form : a bust measuring 90cm, a waist cinched elegantly at 60cm, and hips curving softly at 85cm. The realization of his bra size, a 35F cup, further emphasized the magnitude of his transformation.

He bacame, He to She....

Place ???

The same room like asta's, adorned with numerous monitors interconnected to each subject's chamber. In one corner of the room sits the enigmatic figure of the experiment's overseer, the old man whose youthful voice belies his age, embodying the role of the experiment's mastermind.

A sudden presence disrupts the tranquil atmosphere as a man clad in a sleek black assassin suit materializes behind the old man, a harbinger of news and revelations.

"Lord Rakuza! It's just as you expected, that aggressive boy is the only one who survived," the assassin declares, his voice ringing out with a sense of urgency.

An angry and disappointed expression flickers across Lord Rakuza's features, his disapproval evident as he admonishes the assassin for his indiscretion.

"You idiot! I told you not to mention my name in conversation," Lord Rakuza admonishes, his tone tinged with frustration.

The assassin offers a swift apology, his contrition evident as he seeks forgiveness from his master.

"I'll let it slide this time, but remember to heed my warnings in the future," Lord Rakuza concedes, his disappointment tempered by a hint of satisfaction.

With a knowing smile, Lord Rakuza reflects on the unexpected turn of events, his anticipation piqued by the survival of the aggressive boy.

"I knew that boy would survive," Lord Rakuza muses, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "His survival instinct surpasses all others."

When order was given to experiment on intersexual's. I was quit disappointed that my precious subject will die for nothing.But this turned out way better." A big smile on his like he found a new toy to play with.

Lord Rakuza's demeanor brightens, his excitement palpable as he contemplates the next step in the experiment.

"We give every successful subject a title," Lord Rakuza declares, his voice tinged with anticipation. "And I believe I have the perfect one for him."

With a sense of satisfaction, Lord Rakuza bestows upon the surviving subject a title befitting his complex nature, psychopathic personality and formidable presence.

From now on he/she owns the title...

.....DEMONIC ANGEL.....