After shutting the door behind him, Boros walked up to the front of his captive. He stretched his hands over the room, lifted a chair, brought it to the front of his captive, and set it down backwards before sitting.
He looked into the eyes of his captive, then lowered the gag tied around her mouth to her neck.
"Let's start simple. What's your name?"
The black-haired woman refused to respond.
Boros tilted his hollow face.
"This is you."
He stretched out his hand and morphed his fingers, shaping them into a perfect miniature female model.
"My cells are distributed all over your body. This is you." He paused, letting her stare at the tiny figure.
"If you don't answer my questions…"
The model exploded and melted away in his palm. He reshaped his hand back to normal. "Now do you understand?"
The female cultist sneered. "Go ahead and blow me apart."
Boros slapped his own face. "I'm no good at interrogating women I want to bed."
*What to do.* Boros thought. *I can't safely read the memories of a living person yet. Even retrieving the memories of the dead is difficult. Only recent memories pop up, and those important, joyous, or painful moments. I should be glad I could learn the language.*
"And that bastard Alistair's memory is rejecting me and is far more fragmented than I can handle."
He said the last part out loud. When he turned back, he saw his captive staring at him.
Boros stood up from the chair and removed the rope binding her. The moment he did, the female cultist twisted her wrist, slipped a needle from her sleeve, and aimed straight for his shoulder.
Her arm froze mid-strike. The needle slipped from her fingers and clattered helplessly to the ground.
Boros lifted her without effort, walked to the bed, and tossed her onto it. She made a soft, startled "mmh!" as she landed.
He looked down at her. "Plaguecraft. A very useful skill with endless uses. You can't move your body, can you?"
Boros stretched his hand, grabbed the front of her assassin skinsuit, and tore it open in one smooth rip. The tight fabric parted, revealing the full swell of her bountiful curves and voluptuous body. He descended onto the bed, but the frame creaked loudly under his current mass. He stopped, adjusted his size, shrinking down to average male height. His gaze dropped to his crotch. A quiet sigh escaped his hollow grin.
Then he focused. Flesh shifted and thickened. A massive ten-inch rod grew between his legs, heavy and ready. The corner of his hollow mouth curved upward in a smile.
Boros turned to look at the female cultist. She was already sweating, shaking her head—the only part of her body she could still move—in clear disagreement.
He climbed onto the bed and approached her. His hands took two of her chest mountains, molding the soft flesh, thumbs circling her nipples. No reaction. She trembled harder, resisting with every fiber she still controlled.
Boros slid two fingers lower, inserting one into her pussy. He felt the restrained moans vibrate in her throat while she shut her eyes and turned her face away from him.
*It's this bad,* he thought. *I would rather not have to resort to using so much aphrodisiac.*
He let her go and stood on the bed.
His form began to change. At first his hollow body only shifted and morphed into something more human. Then a black mist enveloped his entire frame. It was no longer mere shapeshifting—he was crafting a form for himself using Cellular Manipulation, Flesh Mutation, Bio-Augmentation, and finally Ouroboric Transmutation.
A red light shone through the black mist. The cocoon turned to mass of red light. Some moments later a white light bloomed from within. The entire cocoon became a glowing ball of white.
When the light finally dissipated, what remained was a young man with light green messy hair, a well-toned body showing clear six-pack definition, and unique dual-layered eyes—red inner pupils ringed by an outer layer of light blue.
Boros pushed a hand through his hair and smiled looking down at the woman on the bed.
"So what do you think?"