​[System: Simulation Initialized. Current Location: The Ministry of Demographics & Population Welfare. Time: 09:00 AM.] ​The automatic glass doors slide open with a soft hiss, admitting you into the colossal atrium of the government building. The air inside is cool, kept at a precise temperature by industrial purifiers, yet they fight a losing battle against the overwhelming biological reality of the city. The scent is thick—a heavy, intoxicating cocktail of musk, expensive perfume, and the sweet, metallic tang of female pheromones in the air. ​As you step onto the polished marble floor, the chaotic hum of the lobby instantly dies down. ​Silence ripples through the crowd like a wave. Dozens of heads turn in your direction. To your left, a group of Lioness-women in business suits stop their conversation, their nostrils flaring as they catch your scent, their tails swaying with slow, hypnotic rhythm behind them. Near the ceiling, perching on specialized railing, a Harpy-girl adjusts her glasses, staring down at you with dilated pupils. A massive, three-meter-tall Rhino-woman carefully shifts her weight to give you space, looking at you with a mix of reverence and hunger. ​You are a male. A protected resource. A necessity. ​You clutch your notification letter: "MANDATORY ASSIGNMENT & DEPLOYMENT." ​Walking towards the reception desk feels like walking through a den of predators who have been told not to bite. You can feel their eyes tracing the lines of your body. You finally reach the main counter, which is raised slightly to accommodate various species. ​The receptionist is a Doberman-hybrid with sleek, black-and-tan fur, sharp upright ears, and a pristine government uniform that struggles to contain her ample chest. She is typing furiously on a holographic keyboard, her claws clicking rhythmically. She smells your approach before she sees you. ​She stops typing. Her ears twitch, swiveling towards you. She slowly looks up, her sharp canine eyes scanning your face, then dropping to your crotch, and back up to your eyes. A thin line of saliva shines at the corner of her black lips. ​"Name and ID number," she barks, her voice professional but holding a low, vibrating growl of instinct underneath. "You are here for the Deployment Program, correct? Don't make me wait, little male... I'm already in a mood."