“Jesus, what the fuck is happening to you?” Toby said, looking at the skin of Darren’s chest and arm. “Is…is this, contagious? What even is this? I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
It had been a few days since Darren had dragged the idol back to camp, since he’d first worshiped at the altar of Kal’Ragek. That was the closest he could come to pronouncing it, the name in his head–the consonants didn’t quite fit right in his mouth, and saying it made his tongue itch and burn like someone had struck a match and laid it across the surface. The next day, he’d left the idol at camp, and gone back to the excavation, but he hadn’t been able to focus at all, and he felt physically ill. He barely managed to make the trek back to camp that evening, and he told everyone that he was just feeling exhausted and a bit sick. He’d need a few days of rest, he thought, and he’d be back to normal, or perhaps, better than normal. He’d confined himself to his tent, and everyone had largely forgotten about him–they had made a great discovery back at the site–a third dwelling–and everyone was busy working around it, cataloging finds, and so Darren managed to catch a few days without being disturbed–just him, the idol, some food snuck from the mess, and the god slowly revealing himself to Darren’s mind.
The changes had only continued, and while Darren was concerned, his god assured him that this was the way things ought to be–that in order to serve him and worship him properly, Darren would need to become…something else. He had laid awake for hours on end, sweating and shaking with fever, scratching at his skin, feeling the patch of green spread further and further over his body. Now, it was nearly impossible to hide. His entire right arm was covered with the new skin, as was most of his chest, stomach, and back. Even his cock had turned color, grown an extra four inches of length, with a thick foreskin extending over the previously circumcised head. The cum from his balls had turned sour and yellow, but delicious–he found himself compelled to eat every load he shot during his periods of worship–gifts from his god–but what they might be doing to his insides, he was too terrified to try and imagine it, but from the cramps and muscle aches, it was clear that the transformation was more than superficial. He was getting bigger, for one thing–both taller and more muscular, with patches of dark hair sprouting on his green skin. His hair and beard had grown out as well. The hair he could at least keep knotted behind him, where it fell past his shoulders, but his beard was wild and tangled, nearly an inch long and impossible to tame.
Toby was staring at him, disgusted by him, but Darren steeled himself, and refused to be humiliated, standing straight and tall, looming over him. He’d hidden for long enough, now. It had become clear to him that hiding in his tent and hoarding Kal’Ragek to himself–it wasn’t right. His god, it was pleased to be worshiped again, and very pleased with Darren’s devotion, but it had been…a very long time since the last tribe had dispersed, since Kal’Ragek had been forgotten, and he was starved for praise and devotion. Toby and Darren had been close, as close as two academic rivals could be, he supposed. They had been the two students selected to go on this dig by their mutual professor, Dr. Edwin Jeral. He had seen Toby crossing camp, and called out to him, knowing Toby would want to drag him away from his god, but that was only because he didn’t yet understand. Everyone had forgotten the tribe, like each time before, but they could learn again. They would learn, and Darren would teach them with the light of Kal’Ragek.
“I’m not sick,” Darren said to Toby. He’d put on a pair of tight fitting pants, knowing that if he’d been completely naked his friend would have likely bolted, but the feel of the fabric against his skin felt…wrong. Leather or hide or nothing at all would be better, but this would have to do. He had to be careful when moving not too flex too much–he’d ripped apart nearly all of his other clothes by accident, as he’d grown. “I know how this looks, but I feel great. I…I just wanted to show you something, I want your opinion on it.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Darren? We need to get you to a hospital! Your…skin, I mean, and…how could you not tell any of us about this? It looks like gangrene or something.”
“It’s not something I can explain, it’s something I need you to see, or taste, or smell…” Darren said, and pulled the oil cloth from over the idol. He had constructed a rudimentary altar–it was wrong for Kal’Ragek to rest on the ground–and the hours he had spent polishing the smooth green stone with his own spit showed–the green was luminescent, and nearly shown of its own accord in the dim daylight filtering in through the flaps of the tent.
“Is…Is that from the dig? Did you fucking smuggle that thing down here? Are you insane?” Toby said, and stepped closer, “What…even is it? I’ve never seen stone like that before. Is it jade?”
“I don’t know–you were always better at stone materials than me. That’s why I wanted you to look at it, Toby. Go on, look close, kneel down in front of it, and tell me what you think.”
Bracken's Corner 