Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 3)

Taylor opened the box, and wrinkled his nose up at the smell coming up from it. It was…not pleasant. Did Mr. Woodrow even wash these clothes before bringing them over to him? It smelled like a locker room in the box, and Taylor started digging through the contents, confused about why his landlord would bring him stuff like this. It was all workout gear–and most of it made out of spandex of some sort. He thought about the workout room in the basement but he hadn’t used it once since he’d arrived–it wasn’t really his sort of thing. Taylor was thin and lanky, had never really been interested in sports or anything. Had Mr. Woodrow gotten the wrong idea or something about what he was doing here?

He dug down a bit deeper, and at the bottom, he found…something else. A leather vest, some leather straps, what looked like leather pants even. Some sneakers, and also some leather boots. The smell coming off them was pungent…but also a bit different. It was…a bit too much to think about, if this stuff had really come from Mr. Woodrow’s son.

The smell in the air was thick now, and Taylor wasn’t noticing it as much. If anything, now that he was more used to it, it smelled kind of nice. When he’d seen what was in the box, his first instinct had been to just toss it, but now…well, trying it on couldn’t hurt, right? It was just for some laughs after all, maybe a selfie to show the guys later, when they moved in. So he stripped down, and pulled on a well worn jockstrap, a set of spandex shorts and a spandex muscle shirt–both of them actually hanging a bit loose off his thin frame, even as small and stretchy as they were. How big was Woodrow’s son, that this stuff would fit him? Still, it did feel nice…and he’d never had fabric like this on before. It was…different, especially on his cock, which was feeling…electric, somehow. He groped himself, breathing deep, the scent sliding into him now, surrounding him, and he shoved his hand down into the front of the shorts and started jacking off, as mindlessly as he’d done when he’d found that underwear before.

He came, and with it, a mind blowing orgasm. He even whited out for a moment, and came too just in time to catch himself with the wall in front of him, and looked around, bewildered, a massive wet spot on the front of his workout clothes. What…had he been doing, anyway? Mr. Woodrow had come by to talk about some repairs…but had there been more to it? No–not that he could recall now. He saw the box on the table, with the leather gear inside it, but didn’t think about it–he just took it up to his room, and put the box deep in his closet, where he wouldn’t have to worry about it yet. That…that, was for later, something told him, and then he forgot about it, sat down on the bed, and pulled on his sneakers, excited for his workout.

Unknown to him, in the moment of that orgasm, all of his old clothes had disappeared–replaced instead by clothes of the same musky nature as these ones–mostly spandex, but a few basic muscle shirts as well. The fact that they were all still too big for him didn’t bother him–he…he was going to fix that. He went down to the basement and started his workout. A workout he had never done before in his life, but he lifted with perfect form like he had done it for years, and already, his muscles were tensing, and growing, bit by bit–but only Mr. Woodrow could tell at the moment.

He looked down into his scrying pool, pleased with the results. This one wouldn’t require any more work for a while, he would do just fine in time. He checked the calendar again, and saw that the next lodger would be arriving a bit earlier than expected–in another few weeks time. A young man by the name of Quinn. Plenty of time to get his room ready, in any case–and Mr. Woodrow sat back, and enjoyed the show of Taylor working out–his research project now secondary to a new one–building up his new body.


“Alright, so here’s the main rooms–you can set your luggage there for the moment,” Mr. Woodrow said, and continued the tour for Quinn. It was a couple weeks later now, early August, and Quinn came into town early both to escape his family, who was driving him nuts, and to spend some time with Taylor, who was one of his closest friends, before school started and they got sucked into their studies. The house was amazing–just like Taylor had said, and Mr. Woodrow seemed very nice as well. 

“Is Taylor around?” Quinn asked.

“I think he’s downstairs–he’ll probably come up…oh, I think I hear him.”

There was a thumping on what sounded like stairs, and the basement door opened, and Quinn’s jaw dropped. There Taylor was, but not…quite the Taylor he recalled. He was…getting buff. A few weeks down in the workout room had packed thirty pounds of muscle onto Taylor’s frame–enough that the spandex clothing he was wearing looked like it actually belonged on him. “Quinn!” he shouted, and pulled his friend into a musky hug–he reeked. Quinn tried to pull away, but the hug lasted…a bit too long, and Quinn was conscious that Taylor had pulled their crotches together too–and he could feel the outline of Taylor’s cock against his own. Then he released him, and Quinn was too confused to say much. Taylor said hi to Mr. Woodrow, and then went back down to continue his workout–while Mr. Woodrow picked up Quinn’s bag, and showed him to his room upstairs.

The room was nice–spacious, already furnished modestly. Mr. Woodrow told him to go ahead and unpack, and he’d leave him alone–and handed him the key to the house. Quinn was reeling, trying to process what he’d just seen…but as much as he wanted to talk to Taylor, his sudden change was…a bit much. Instead, he started unpacking and getting his room in order, but as he did, he discovered something odd…

What sort of magical trap has the landlord laid for Quinn in his room? As usual, you can vote for two options. If you support me on Patreon, you can find the bonus poll over here as well.



Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 2)

The initial explorations didn’t turn up much of interest to Taylor, and so he found himself back in the room, unpacking, when he saw something poking out from between the mattress and box spring of his bed. It looked like fabric or clothing–he grabbed it and pulled on it, and with a tug, the thing came loose–and Taylor found himself holding a pair of dirty looking briefs.

“Eww…what the fuck?” Taylor said, and stretched them out as best he could, but they were…well, a bit crispy, with some colorful brown streaks all over them, like, well, like they’d been used as a cumrag for quite a while, and someone had forgotten all about it before moving out. 

He dropped the underwear on the floor and immediately went into the bathroom to wash his hands off, shuddering. He thought about that weird guy he’d seen the day he’d signed the lease–could they be his? It seemed like something a creepy gay guy like him would do, jack off into a pair of his own underwear, and then stash it for fun later–how disgusting. He went into the kitchen, dug around under the sink for some gloves, and when he found some, he put one on, and went back up to get rid of the nasty thing–but as soon as he stepped in his room, he gagged.

The stench of the thing had spread quick–he hadn’t really noticed it when he’d pulled them out from under the mattress, but now that they were in the open air, he could smell it–and it did smell like cum, like old, nasty, disgusting, cum…Taylor gave a little snort, and took a step into the room. It smelled awful, but it was the only thing he could think about–he shoved one hand down into his shorts, and started groping his cock, before getting down on his knees, picking the underwear up, and shoving it into his face, inhaling deep, snorting even, as he grew close to a climax of his own. His cock exploded in minutes, and he filled the front of his own briefs with a load of cum–and then kept going. The smell was just getting stronger inside his mind now, and he couldn’t stop–he didn’t want to stop.

It was three loads later, his own briefs now soaked inside his pants, that Mr. Woodrow came up the stairs and looked in on him. “Oh dear, I guess I could have hidden those a bit better,” he said, and stepped into the room. The smell didn’t have any effect on him, but Taylor fought tooth and nail to keep the older man from taking the filthy briefs away from him–but Mr. Woodrow sent a little surge of energy into the young man, and he went slack. “There, that’s better. We can’t have you losing yourself too quickly now–not until all of your friends have moved in here.” He lifted up the mattress again, and this time he stashed the underwear on the other side, against the wall–it wouldn’t get as good of circulation, but after that direct dose, Taylor would just need a little…reminder on occasion. Then, he sat down, and told Taylor what he was going to remember.

Taylor woke with a start an hour after that, the dream already fading from his mind. Fuck–it had been one the wildest sex dreams he’d ever had–and he couldn’t even remember it! He looked down, and saw that the briefs he’d been wearing were soaked–he couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a wet dream, especially not one this powerful. He stripped off the briefs, ready to throw them into the laundry, but paused–and sniffed them, tentatively. They…reminded him of something, kind of. Then, he had a better idea. He got up, lifted up the mattress, and stashed his own briefs there, unaware of the much fouler pair on the other side. It couldn’t hurt to have a cumrag at the ready after all, he told himself, and got back to unpacking, feeling much refreshed after his nap.

For the next few weeks, the dream kept returning every night, and after every nap. Nick would never remember much of it in the end–but everytime he woke up having already shot his load, or so close he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from rubbing one out, and adding another load to the cumrag underwear he now kept stashed under the mattress. He didn’t know what had come over him really–he was just so horny lately, but porn wasn’t really holding his interest much like it had before. Instead, he dove harder into his research project, and found himself worrying less and less about the dreams as the days wore on. He’d find a girlfriend in the fall, and things would sort themselves out naturally, he assured himself.

Then, Mr. Woodrow made a surprise visit one afternoon while he was studying, hauling with him a sizable box. “Afternoon, Taylor,” the old man said with a smile, “My son has been cleaning out his things, and well, the two of you are about the same size I think. I brought over some of his clothes, to see if you might want them. No worries if you don’t–just throw them out, but I wanted to check.”

They chatted a few more minutes about other stuff in the house, and Mr. Woodrow promised he’d fix the few minor issues that Taylor had found, then left before Taylor could remember to open the box with him there. Alone now, Taylor hauled the box up onto the table, and opened it up–but what sort of clothes did he find inside?


Alright, it was a pretty close poll last week, so if you really want to see some leather, you’ll have another chance. The answers below are designed such that if two seem popular, I might combine them–we’ll see! The patron only poll is over here as well–remember, patron votes count 5x as much! You can pick up to two options!

Interactive: The House Made Me Gay! (Part 1)

“So like I said, we had a nice family living here for a while, but…well, I don’t really have the details,” Mr. Woodrow said, with a look that implied he did, in fact, have them, “but let’s just say that they ended up getting divorced, and neither of them could afford the rent on their own, so they found new places for themselves. It’s been vacant for a while, but I took the time to fix it up a bit, add some more furnishings, you know…”

Taylor was still so agog at the place that he was only half listening, as the landlord kept going on and on about the house during the tour. It was beautiful–big kitchen, spacious living areas, five bedrooms, a pool in the backyard, a little exercise room in the basement–it was unbelievable really, especially at the price Mr. Woodrow was offering–enough that Taylor and his four friends could actually afford it while they were going to school next year.

“Now, I do need a year lease. You said you wanted to rent it with your friends? That doesn’t bother me really, as long as all of your names are on it. Do you think you’d all be interested?”

“Hell yeah we are,” Taylor said, “I mean, I’ll check with them about it, but this…I mean, it’s a great place man, it really is.”

Mr. Woodrow beamed, “I put a lot of work into it, but I know around here, you students just need places to live. I like to know that I’m helping out some young men when I can.”

Taylor sent the listing to his friends, and all of them agreed that it looked like an amazing find. Taylor was the only one who was going to live there the whole summer, while he was doing a research project on campus. His other friends would join him closer to the school year starting in August and September–though Aaron said that for a place this nice, he might show up early. The lease could be signed electronically, and with a deposit–helpfully supplied by Taylor’s father, they were all set to go–they had the perfect fucking place, at a great bargain, and it didn’t look like there was a single catch anywhere.

At least, until Taylor was leaving the house, whistling in excitement and ready to start moving in, when someone came out from behind some bushes and hustled towards him. He was an older man, and he looked like he meant some sort of business. “Hey, kid! What were you doing in there?” he shouted at him.

Taylor just looked at him, confused, but assumed it was a neighbor. “Oh, uh, me and my friends are going to be renting it for the next year. You live around here?”

The guy’s face went a bit pale, and he came closer to him. “Don’t. Rip it up–don’t sign a lease with him. That place…it’s fucked man, you don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

“What? Why?”

The man hesitated, and then blurted out, “I lived there, and it made me gay.”

Taylor just stared at him, and then started laughing.

“I’m fucking serious! I was married, I had a kid. We started living there a year ago, and…and fuck, I don’t know how that fucker did it, some spell, or a curse, or who the fuck knows, but now…now I fucking love cock kid. I love cock more than fucking anything, and it’s fucking destroyed me. Killed my marriage, I lost my fucking job! Don’t…don’t do it, don’t move in there, you’ll fucking regret it.”

The guy moved closer to him, but Taylor swatted his hand away. “Whatever pervert–fuck off! It’s just a fucking house man, get a grip on yourself. If you wanna suck dicks, whatever, I don’t care, but I’m straight.”

He pushed past the stranger and got in his car, and the man just stared after him as he drove off, and shook his head. He wouldn’t be straight for long–not in that place.


It was a couple weeks later now, and TayLor finally felt like he had all of his stuff in the house, at least. Most of it was still in boxes, that that was a small problem now, after moving his stuff out of the dorm and across town in his small car. His friends had all seen the place by now and were thrilled with his luck–and a bit jealous that he was going to enjoy it by himself all summer long, since his rich father was willing to pay for the three months himself, before the rest of them moved in.

So, here he was–it was his, finally. So Taylor decided to take a break from unpacking, and decided to poke around a little. The pool in particular was enticing, especially since the weather was finally starting to heat up, but Mr. Woodrow told him it hadn’t been turned on yet, so he had to wait. Instead, he poked around the house itself, checking out the other rooms, peeking in the closets, up in the attic, and down in the basement–but something in particular caught his undivided attention for a while, but what was it?


My plan for this one is a bit more of a slow burn. We might have a few parts with just Taylor, and then add in the rest of his housemates to be corrupted as well, in turn. We’ll see how it goes! The first poll is below, and the bonus Patreon poll is over here too. You can make two selections each in the polls!


Summer Internship (Finale)

Here’s the long delayed ending for the Summer Internship Interactive. I’ll have a new one starting next week!


“What’s wrong boy?” the sergeant asked him. He was inches from Jimmy’s face, so close that he could see the individual droplets of the sergeant’s sweat running down his face. Around him, something had happened to most of the other recruits–they’d all fallen to the ground in pairs or threesomes, the sergeant’s musk washing over them and driving them into a sexual frenzy as they tore into each other’s uniforms. Now, it was just Jimmy standing there, as strong as he could, trying to resist. He didn’t know why he was resisting so hard, just that he knew it was important, that this wasn’t real, that if he gave in…something awful would happen to him. The sergeant was staring at him, unblinking, and when he realized, at last, that Jimmy wasn’t going to break, he smirked, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and dragged him off across the grounds, towards a little building that Jimmy realized was a bathroom.

“I think we need to loosen you up a little, boy,” the Sergeant said, and dragged him inside, and shoving him in a corner of the room. In the heat of the day, the stench in the restroom was horrific, the stench of piss and shit assaulting Jimmy’s already fragile mind, taking it apart, bit by bit.

“Please, I…I thought I was going to be a soldier…” he moaned, cock hard, hand unable to keep from rubbing it.

“You are–don’t you worry. But we have special roles for men like you,” the sergeant dropped his pants and stepped out of them, and Jimmy imagined that he was going to shove his cock in his face, and he’d have no ability to resist, not here. But instead, the sergeant turned around, bent over, and presented his unwashed asscrack and hole. “Here, piggy, piggy, piggy…” he taunted.

Jimmy snorted. He wouldn’t. No, he couldn’t. He let out another snort, and found himself on his hands and knees, crawling closer to the sergeant, the stench getting stronger and stronger, pushing out everything else, and then he buried his face in the officer’s crack, snorting and chewing and eating at it as fast as he could, like a glutton. It was rank, and disgusting, but already Jimmy knew he would need more. When the sergeant was satisfied the new pig was properly mind fucked, he pulled his ass away, went behind him, and fucked Jimmy’s ass until they both blew their loads, and then had Jimmy suck the filth from his cock for good measure.

After cumming, Jimmy could feel some of his will returning to him, but not quick enough. A collar slipped around his neck, and then a chain connected him to a metal ring on the floor. Enough length to move little, and he couldn’t stand up at all. “There–now why don’t you hang around here for a while, and make yourself useful. This is the officers’ facilities by the way, so be sure to be respectful.”

The virus had him cornered now, and in his bed, Jimmy began to change. Growing fatter and fatter, body stinking from months spent in the officer’s bathroom without a shower–aside from golden ones of course. The stench wearing away at his mind until he really was nothing more than a horny pig, barely capable of forming words, much less sentences. When the virus was satisfied, Jimmy woke with a start–300 pounds, hungry for piss and dirty ass, stinking up the entire room–and for the people sleeping in there, it was too late for them anyway, and so all of them were locked down in the room together, with the pig.

Some of them fell quickly. One of the older researchers who went down for a catnap, woke up and felt someone eating at his hole…but it didn’t disturb him. It was just…just the officer’s pigslave, after all, and he…he was an officer. He’d grown thicker and more muscular as he’d slept, his musk just as powerful as the pig’s stench, and he gave the pig a quick fuck, before turning his attention to the four or five other grunts now trapped in the room with them–but they’d all make good soldiers, the new sergeant was sure of it, and they’d all have a filthy pig to enjoy together, after training.

Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 5)

So much to remember! Jimmy had never been the brightest fellow. He did well in school, but lacked focus on his studies. He’d always preferred sports and physical activity to sitting around and staring at books–or what everyone else seemed to call reading. When he’d talked to the recruiter, it had just made sense, right? But the memory was fuzzy, and the harder he tried to focus on it, more it seemed to warp. At first, he could remember the recuriter as a tall, handsome stud, the perfect soldier, exactly the kind of person Jimmy had always aspired to be–but was that right? He could remember something else. A stuffy room, a big man, reeking of sweat, stripping off his shirt, seeing how quickly Jimmy would fall under his spell…

The memory shifted then–it didn’t matter all that much, he had decided. He was here, at boot camp, where he was supposed to be. Where he had always wanted to be. He was eighteen, not very bright but diligent and appreciative of authority. He stepped off the bus with the other young recruits, most of them similar to him. Athletes, mostly football. Not particularly clever, but hard headed and plenty determined. They would all serve their…their country? 

He looked around, up at the flagpole, but it was empty–like a void in his memory. Who was he serving? What was he serving?

Jimmy thrashed a bit, in his sleep, perhaps realizing what had happened for a moment in some recess of his mind. He was sweating profusely, the smell more intense than his usual musk. It was starting already. The virus calmed him down, settled his body back into sleep–there was still so much to remember.

With the other recruits, he was filed through orientation. Their hair shaved down, their bunks assigned. They would see officers on occasion, and instructors, but there was something…wrong with them. Their uniforms were messy, if they bothered wearing something resembling a uniform at all. They were bulky, and obviously strong–but fat as well, big thick guts and chests and necks, all of them hairy as well. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be, his mind said, but that was the way it had to be–it was the way he remembered it, right?  Eventually, they were lined up, and Drill Sergeant Maco strode up and down the line, stripped down to a pair of olive shorts and a sweat soaked undershirt, and this close to him, his musk was unlike anything he had ever smelled before (except for in that stuffy office, except for that man, that man he’d–served, no worshiped?)

Jimmy wasn’t the first one to give in–that was another recruit Jimmy had gotten to know by the name of Kingston. He snorted suddenly, and fell forward onto his hands and knees, drooling, crawling over to where Sergeant Maco was standing, nuzzling at the man’s crotch, obviously hungry for something. Without even addressing the rest of the young men, Maco opened his fly, and fed the eager recruit his cock. Jimmy was horrified, and couldn’t stop wondering if it might taste different from that…other man’s, wondering if it would taste better, or…

No, this wasn’t right, this wasn’t right!

Jimmy was thrashing again, trying to rebel, trying to force his way out of the dream. He was sweating more now, his clothes soaked through, his body thickening with muscle, remembering now how he had been when he’d been young, remembering how he’d stood in the hot sun, inches from the sergeant now, trying not to give in, trying to fight it as hard as he could, but he’d given in, hadn’t he? They all had, he could almost remember it, but maybe…maybe he hadn’t.


What happens next? You can choose two of the four options. Patrons can access the bonus poll over here as well!
Update: some people are having problem with the embedded poll! If this is you, go ahead and use this link–it should work over on the site.



Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 4)

Jimmy found his way to the new lab, still trying to shake off what he had seen in lab #76, when he’d arrived at his new home, now that his prior project was being reclassified. The massive blob, the sense that it had somehow been a person–it had to have been a person, right? And that other, smaller one, which was…more of a person, but no longer one entirely. The fact that he knew, right now, those things were being kept alive, and not being sent to the incinerator–it made him want to run screaming from the complex–but he knew, if he did, he’d be in violation of his NDA, and executed. Now he understood why security here was so tight–the science happening here…shouldn’t be happening here. But he was too deep now–what did it matter? He got to the new lab, entered, and found a researcher waiting for him, excited to give him the breakdown of what they were working on here, in lab #146. Jimmy hoped it would be more sane–but he was unsurprised to find this project just as ethically nightmarish as the last.

It had started as a simple question–could memories be converted into chemical form, such that they could be replicated, and spread between people? The answer, it turned out, was yes–though it has been years for the project to advance to this level, and the researcher skipped over, well, a good amount of history, and he was sure, a good amount of mistakes as well. This lab, he had noticed, was more tightly controlled than the last–though apparently the last one had not been controlled enough. Getting in was easy–of course, but getting out again required, well, he saw another researcher leave, after his shift, and it took a while–blood and sweat samples, questions about key memories, a thorough chemical scrub. The researcher told him, when he asked about it, that most of them slept in the bunks here, within the containment area–they only left when really necessary. 

The reason for such tight controls was this–building on some other work, they were able to discover the neurological sequencing of memories–how to build them, really. It was relatively easy, in fact–if you realigned some of the subjects neurons to the proper path, the subject would create a memory to match them on their own–with minimal effort required on the researcher’s part. But there were two wrinkles. First, the mind seemed…incapable of making a new memory without also warping the body itself–and the larger the memory, the more the body would warp. If you made someone believe that they had been a boxer in college, and they remembered losing a tooth, that tooth would fall out of their head–and they would be more muscular, and scar tissue would develop, and, and, and. No one understood how it happened–it should be impossible, but, well, it wasn’t. 

But the bigger problem was the fact that the only carrier they had managed to find to deliver these memories to the brain, was viral–a heavily warped virus that would force the neurons into their new alignment–but what that meant, was the state was…contagious. The individuals would become enslaved to the virus’ need to replicate and spread–and the body would change in a few key ways. This virus was…sexually transmitted, and so, the subject would become incredibly horny, and sexually flexible. The subject’s body would also emit a pheromone, which smelled like–in the words of those who had caught wind of it and escaped contamination–liquid sex. 

Jimmy found all of this, well, hard to believe. But the videos showing previous memory injections were, well, convincing. The researcher told him that, at this point, the study was two pronged. The most important part, was trying to reduce the virality of the injections, or at least find a way to reduce it and turn it off. If they could do that, the military and civilian options were obvious–a way to give a recruit boot camp in one shot, both mentally and physically. A way to rehabilitate prisoners and criminals in moments. But with the viral component lessened, the serum could also become a potent biological weapon, warping a whole cell of terrorists into something harmless over a matter of weeks.

So Jimmy was put to work. He decided to sleep in the lab, rather than deal with the trial of leaving the quarantine area. Mostly, he was working on trying to isolate the viral component of the virus, without rendering it less effective, but as with all things, violating the natural order of things, in was only so long before something went wrong–and that wrong thing, was this. Jimmy was in the storage vault. Here, all of the memories that had been sequenced were stored–some of them waiting to be tested, some of them from prior experiments, trying to understand how the serums even functioned. Even these old vials couldn’t be destroyed–it was worried that fire and incineration wouldn’t be able to deal with this virus–since nothing else seemed to destroy it easily. So here they were kept–and mostly well maintained, but one of them had been sealed inappropriately, and Jimmy had been lax with his PPE, and inhaled some of the serum on the air.

Injection was fastest, taking hold in minutes. Sexual intercorse required an hour or two. Inhalation also worked, but took six to eight hours to incubate. Jimmy continued his work, but began to feel a bit woozy–it was just about the end of his shift, though, and so he went into the bunk room to lay down for a rest. He was asleep almost immediately–and he dreamed–and the dream was so much more vivid than should have been possible…because it was a memory, too. He was in boot camp–that much he knew. He had been…recruited? Or had be volunteered? The memory was corrupted, and old, and there were so many gaps to fill, so many…things he needed to remember. What sort of memory does he recall?


Here’s the next poll! You get two choices. Patrons can find their bonus poll over here!



Interactive: Summer Internship (Part 3)

What 86-X9 didn’t know, was that the amount of radiation he had just bombarded Todd with far exceded the usual dosage given to the embryos in the study. Enough that, by the time Todd was forced into the temporal chamber, he was already starting to feel a bit sick, like something inside him had changed, but he had no idea what, or even how to describe the sensation. He only had a moment to think about it, however, before 86-X9 flipped the switch, and time started going faster.

Inside the chamber, one year progressed at a rate of around 10 seconds. Twenty years could pass in just a little over three minutes–but for the first chunk of time, not much happened–Todd could feel the cells of his body screaming–not only from their new mutations, but also from the sudden acceleration of their own life cycle. He fell to the ground, clutching himself, curled up–and 86-X9 noticed too late that the first change was beginning to manifest. Todd was growing.

It wasn’t a neat or organized growth–more like every part of his body was suddenly obsessed with becoming thicker. His fat and muscle tissues began to reproduce even faster, his body becoming more and more blob like, bones snapping and then being eaten up by the rest of his tissues, trying to do anything to keep growing as large as he could. In a minute, Todd no longer even had a human silhouette–he was just a towering blob of human flesh, easily nine feet tall, his arms and legs no longer recognizable among the other fatty limbs and cysts his out of control cells had just produced. But something else was happening now, as the mass replication slowed down. The new cells began to reorder themselves, changing and adapting to their new positions, and the cysts and limbs began to lengthen into long tentacles, all of them tipped with a fleshy head, leaking a viscous slime onto the floor. That same slime was leaking from new pores erupting all over Todd’s body, coating him in it, sliding onto the floor around him. New mouths and eyes opened up all over the body’s mass as well. The mouths had no teeth, but instead massive, gripping tongues large enough to wrap around a man and drag him into it’s flesh depths–but that wasn’t what this thing wanted. It wasn’t hungry, it was…horny–or at least, that was the last thought Todd had before his mind was fragmented apart by the new mutated creature that had grown from his body.

The field died, and 86-X9 just stared at the mass of flesh in the room, horrified at what had just happened. Still, while…extreme, it was good enough for his plan–even better, since nothing about it was even recognizable as Todd any more. He stepped into the chamber, and realized too late that the thing no longer had enough of a mind for him to try and control–and then the beast was upon him, tentacles wrapped around his arms and legs, his last act sealing the door of the chamber before the thing could escape.

He smelled something…burning, and saw that the slime was eating away his clothes–and began to fear it would eat him away as well, but when the slime touched him, instead all he felt was a cooling tingle–and he relaxed. It felt like his whole body just turned off, and the thing wrapped him tighter, feeling him, testing his holes, before sliding one tentacle down into 86-X9’s guts from his mouth, another one sliding into his ass, and the slime leaking from them began to inflate 86-X9’s body, bloating it full of it’s fluid, and when it was nearly bursting, it set him down in a corner, slime drooling from 86-X9’s ruined mouth and ass, his eyes dead, but clearly something was still alive, because his body would occasionally twitch and lurch.

When the scientists returned the next morning, they were horrified. There, in the temporal chamber, was a beast the likes of which they had never seen, casing the perimeter, obviously looking for a way out, but too simple to find one. In the corner of the room was something still recognizable as human, but the fluid was eating away it’s bones, and beginning the same rapid replication as before, growing large cysts, it’s body already doubled in size overnight.

The project was officially closed, and a new one begun to study these strange creatures under tighter controls, and the interns on the project were sent back to the bunks, traumatized and horrified at what they’d seen, not even realizing that they were missing one of their own too. One of them, Jimmy, was assigned to a new project that very afternoon, but what was it working on?


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