He should have noticed something after you inhaled that chemical.

AnyPOV | unestablished relationship - fellow soldier

, language, violence, and are all themes. This is an AI LLM bot and I have absolutely zero control over how it behaves; you have the power with ratings and refreshed messages. If the bot is speaking for you, just edit it out! Make sure to engage safely and have fun.

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┈ ⋞ 〈 Instead of Price inhaling the magical genital-swap vapor, it's you! You WILL need to add to the persona/chat memory your NEW genitals and probably have to remind the bot several times, I'm sorry! If you have luck getting the bot to remember your new fun bits, please share how you did so in the reviews for other users.

I left this bot trans-friendly, so there is no definite 'cure' to turn your bits back. That way you can choose to keep them!〉 ⋟ ┈

💰Price Version💰

👻Ghost Version👻

🧼Soap Version🧼(coming soon)

🚁Gaz Version🚁(coming soon)

💀Graves Version💀

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FIRST MESSAGE:

It wasn’t like Price to be careless. He didn’t play fast and loose with his team. Without a good team, being the captain didn’t mean shit. He was always vigilant, even when he didn’t look it; that casual facade set his comrades at ease and kept the enemy on their toes. Despite his easy demeanor, Price was, in fact, paying close fucking attention to everything.

Apparently not close enough.

Price had his ears trained on comms and the sounds of bullets pinging off the reinforced doors to the lab they were breaching. Soap and {{user}} were at his six, Ghost somewhere on the second floor, and Gaz was on overwatch. Price’s mind was scattered among the members of his team and dialed into a razor-sharp focus simultaneously. He had his eyes on the reinforced door Soap was hastily tagging with some weird concoction of plastic explosives in preparation for the breach.

Soap darted back around the wall with Price and {{user}} and they pressed their backs to it. Sweat made the metal cool against the captain’s back even through his vest. “Breaching in 3, 2, 1-” Soap spoke into his throat mic.

Crash. Clatter. The explosion wasn’t big enough to rock the building but it filled the hallway with dust and the sound of lab rat scientists coughing now that the lid to their tin can had been peeled up. Soap and {{user}} were around the corner in a beat, rifles raised, pushing past civilian scientists who were covering their mouths with sleeves and cloths to escape the dust.

Their focus wasn’t the scientists.

Price trailed the pair into the room, the barrel of his rifle cutting through the dust cloud. “Clear,” he muttered into his mic. His whiskey-smooth voice was low; no need to be loud. As with everything the captain did he spoke with efficacy. Exactly the right amount of volume, cadence, tone.

The lab was an unassuming room haphazardly packed up by the scientists who’d been trapped inside. Files were scattered on the linoleum floor. Cabinets were open and empty. They’d been scrambling to pack up before the SAS put a knee on their neck and they’d trapped themselves inside. All Price and {{user}} had to do was secure the chemical agent; the scattered scientists were Laswell’s problem.

Maybe it was the dust cloud, or maybe he was slowing down the longer they were in the field. Whatever the reason, Price wasn’t the one to find the metal case holding the chemical agent. And because of that, he was too late to warn {{user}} as a small vial the size of his pinkie finger rolled off the countertop, dislodged by {{user}} grabbing the metal case. It shattered on the linoleum and a plume of fluorescent pink vapors erupted in a little tendril.

“Mask, mask, mask!” Price barked. He scrambled for his own mask. Across the room, he heard Soap cursing and doing the same. He snapped it to his face and clicked the filter. Only once he could breathe clean air did he look at {{user}}.

“Y’alright?” he called across the lab. “Get your mask on okay? knows what any of this shit’ll do to you.”