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Upon the sofa sat a gas masked man once known as Professor Franco Riviera. A smoldering pile of goo was strewn across the other half of the couch. It was once human. Slime dripped onto the floor below freeing itself of the clothing that had once clung to a proper body. Now there was only Tetraxin 5. And a wasp. A wasp which flapped its wings to desperately escape what was once the rest of its body. Its body from before it was a wasp. When she was still human.

"You know it wasn't always like this," Frank said," I used to be a lot more well respected. Didn't have to pretend to be an exterminator just to harvest more material you see?"

The former professor, now maskless, leaned in and scooped the wasp up and out of the clingy biomass. A look of remorse flashed across his cold calculatory expression as he helped the former human clean herself of what once was her self. Every drop counted these days, he justified the kindness. The former human was in part too frightened and too thankful to sting him. Frank had taken so much from her. Almost everything she was would be used to make more of the gas Frank used to transform people like her.

"Yes, it was many years ago. I believe it was April 19, 1991. In my home country of Chile. It was here where a jealous lover saw fit to bring my life's work to both ruin and fruition. It is a wonder how sometimes life's horrors can push the world in new and interesting directions like the one you now find yourself faced with," said Frank.

The wasp could only flap its wings, buzzing lightly. Whether this was meant to convey interest in the story or a impassioned plea to be changed back into a human Frank could not know. He continued with the story.

***

It was a wonderful laboratory beneath the university. Everything was new and top of the line, thanks in no small part to the prestige my name had brought the faculty. My hypothesis on genetic anomalies and their potential correcting awarded enough attention to elevate me above the status of a common professor. My life was one few could not envy.

Make no mistake, it was envy was what ruined it. But not envy of my position. It was the envy of a lover most scorned. Ah my sweet vengeful Reyna...Reyna Ramirez was her name. She was as wonderful an assistant as she was a lover. This was to be my undoing you see. For love grown in a lab cannot be allowed to last forever.

It was my next assistant to which Reyna grew jealous. Her name was Isabella Campos. She was fair looking to say for sure, but I never did pursue her. Reyna decided to blame our break up on poor Isabella regardless, and this is where the tragedy found its footing. I should have taken note of the sideways glances Reyna would fire off. They were an obvious clue to her jealousy. I paid these and other clues no mind however,and it cost me dearly. Isabella even more so. You see, she suffered a similar fate to you, dear wasp. Though it was not the life of an insect she was made to adopt, but one of a creature perhaps even more dreaded the world over.

My studies at the time had taken on a direction that would one day, under Reyna's name of course, lead to the cure for Sickle Cell Disease. Isabella's suffering at the hands of the disease was something that Reyna never knew about. Isabella was one of the many people I wished to help cure. My theories on a potential treatment were proving quite sound even then. The tests on mice and other mammals proved quite harmless. Valdivoalpha was designed to adjust the epigenetic makeup of the host in just the way you wanted. SCD could be easy to treat if you could simply find a way to shout at the genes to do their job right in the construction of blood cells. With both the girl's help I had figured out just how to do this.

Then came the time to test things. Isabella volunteered. Everything was going perfectly in the beginning. Soon though she began to writhe in agony much the way you were moments ago. I frantically ran back to chemical sorter only to notice an empty vial poking out from behind the desk. Spider venom. More precisely the GsMTx-4 Chilean Rose Tarantula venom from the Anti-Venom laboratory next door. It had been purposely added to the Valdivoalpha sample. It was sabotage. I already knew it was Reyna's doing. I turned to witness the horror that would follow. Valdivoalpha would use the trace dna of the venom and try to correct the genetic code accordingly. It was attempting to cure Isabella of her humanity.

Poor Isabella. It was fortunate the she be fated to change into an arachnid as beautiful as the one Reyna chose. By the time I had returned to her side to tell her of her fate the change had begun. She screamed up to me and clutched at my arms with shrinking arms that were getting all the smaller. The excess biomass had begun to slide off her body. It clung to my lab coat and brought with it the now familiar stench of biogel.

I could not help but find it fascinating you see. My theories admittedly had no upper limit. The way Valdivoalpha bound with DNA meant that it could rewrite almost any DNA it sank its plant based fangs into. To see such concepts on a white board be made manifest in the shuddering pleas of a half spider coworker was beyond comprehension. I cradled her in my arms as skin and bone were reduced to chitin and gel. Her once beautiful face began melting away to reveal the fiercer qualities of the spider she would become. Pedipalps emerged from the sides of her jaws as two massive fangs sliced the air. They bit at the air as she protested the changes. Her wonderful skin turned a grayish black and pink hair began to sprout at odd yet striking intervals along her terrifying visage.

Her screaming stopped, or more accurately, it became too high pitched for the human ear to process. She was the only one in the room that could hear herself shouting now, from the hairs along her legs no less. All eight of them. She tried to run but I caught her as she continued to shrink. It was like trying to handle a beaker which perpetually spilled. I was so careful with her, more so than she was with herself. Soon though she only took up the palm of my hand. She looked into my eyes with all eight of hers and slapped pitifully at my thumb. I looked back to her with a fascination that must have invoked some fear response. She tried to run once more, leaping free of my grasp only for me to capture her in a clean beaker.

This was an emergency situation you see. Isabella was still alive on some level, as you would most assuredly agree that you are still alive in your little wasp body, but you see I just did not take the minds at the local police department to be quite capable of discerning this fact. You see it can be quite absurd to think about such things if you were to not study them firsthand. Do you think the police or your family would believe me if I were to explain what happened to you? No, now, just as then, I would be accused of murder by fools who simply could not comprehend what had occured.

This was especially harrowing for Isabella. Who else could cure the poor girl but myself? If I were to let myself be caught for her murder then I would never be able to change her back. So I bottled her, much the way I'll be bottling you up soon. Leaving her inside the beaker I turned to regard the goo she left behind. I knew it must hold some clue as to what had occured. A personal joke I used to use to describe it to laymen was as stem cells on stimulants. Anyway, it's quite difficult to fabricate in the laboratory, but something about the way by which the body reacts to such an intense change produces a substance composed of equal parts water and Valdivoalpha.

The sheer biogellatinous volume was a profound discovery that it took up the entirety of my attention away from the poor the lab assistant responsible for providing it. Isabella sat to the side, desperately clawing at the beaker I had placed her in. After I bottled up the biogel and burned her clothes I asked her to raise a hand if she understood me. It took her a moment but she did do this. I cannot be sure then if the reaction speed was reduced by her lack of familiarity with her body or an encroaching sluggishness of the mind. Being confined to such a smaller brain must have had some effect, but how much I could not know.

As the smoke of her clothes burning vented out the window I could not help but feel possessed by a scientific curiosity. The complete genetic rewrite must have been a draining process, and it is unlikely that any food stuffs would have transferred from her old body into her new one. So I decided to see if she would eat. I went back to the anti-venom lab and found where they kept the spider feed. There I found the presumed source of the venom, another Chilean Rose Tarantula by the name of Polito. A male. The thought of having them meet crossed my mind, but instead I went fishing for crickets nearby instead of entertaining such notions. No, I was still driven to save Isabella. After watching to see if she would feed of course.

I dropped the rather confused cricket into Isabella's beaker. I watched. I waited. There was still something to the girl. A part of her that was human. While I was not well studied in the ways of spiders I could tell her hunt was at first hesitant and then quite awkward. As expected she was hungry, several attacks on the cricket proved these. But frequently she veered off her cricket assaulting course, only to smack I must admit somewhat laughably into the surrounding glass. She stumbled backwards and shook it off. Then the fight against temptation resumed. She repeated this, succumbing and resisting the urge to fully devour the insect multiple times.

Hunger is of course a powerful motivator. The only thing she perhaps had to fight against such a motivation was shame. Shame over the thought of devouring an insect. Hunger won out in the end. She launched into another unskilled assault on the cricket, but now baring her fangs down in desperate frustration. The venom that had enabled this transformation now became her tool for survival. She had become such a beautiful specimen. I'd never noticed the ferocious beauty of spiders before watching her work to liquify the cricket's insides. It could do nothing to stop her as she drank it hollow. Ah, but then the shame soon returned. Her small gut full she set about hiding from me as best she could. Her eight eyes were covered in shame. It was as though she wanted no one to see the wonderful predator that had become of her.

The rest of the day consisted of this, her huddled in the far side of the beaker as I attempted to unravel the mystery of what the rest of her had become. To put it bluntly the gel of her altered biomass had become the Tetraxin 2 to my Tetraxin 0. Decades of progress on my theories had been made that one night. And I did stay the night. I awoke having falling asleep overtop a pile of newly taken notes, Isabella was still where I had left her.

Was she still there? Was there still something to save? My preliminary research began pointing to the idea that a mental decay would follow quite quickly after the first few hours of the change. Easy, easy my little wasp, I have long since adjust the formula. You will always be you from now on. You needn't worry like I was.

A test was be devised. To see if she were still there. Then I remembered Polito. Returning to the antivenom lab proved fruitful. At the time I was well respected you recall. For me to appear in the antivenom laboratory had the students and professors alike salivating at the notion of new grants my name might lend them. When I asked to borrow Polito they all but raced to be the one to hand over his terrarium. This would make a much better home for Isabella than a meager beaker. So when I returned to my laboratory I dumped her in with Polito hastily.

Polito was a lady's arachnid alright. Spurred on no doubt by Isabella's confused submission to his every flirtation. Hardly an hour went by before he had begun running forward and back to tap at her heels. It was budding love expressed in an entirely physical manor. Flirtation via dance! I got quite the kick out of the whole experience, watching him charge forward one second only to shy away to the back of the cage the next. It seemed to excite Isabella to, who, while resistant to Polito's charms, was not wholly immune. This was the most stimulus she had received since devouring the cricket. The beaker quite the boring living quarters by comparison. There was no Polito to flirt with her there. I believe without knowing Polito's intent she had begun to treat the approaches like a game. Soon she was jumping at him playfully, teasing him to see if she could trick him into thinking she had let her guard down. It was all so cute. So sweet.

Then Polito began to make his approaches, shall we say, more intimate. Instead of just tapping her on the ends of her legs, to which she would jump slightly. He would now test his luck ever further by drifting his legs slightly past her own. This was a powerfully intimate gesture, one I have heard of few spiders doing. It simply must have been in response to Isabella's kindness. Even though Polito was smaller than her he had lived in the body of a spider far longer than Isabella had, this made him infinitely more nimble. Even if Isabella were to grow angry or violent against Polito there was no way she could pose a genuine threat. To her of course, he likewise posed no threat. For to mate with her was his goal.

This is what I wished to witness. Whether or not the former human would succumb to Polito's romantic advances. I took no notes. There were few to take. It was an event to be enjoyed by all parties involved. I found the dance enthralling, its finale suitably climactic. His sperm web had been woven in the corner, his seed palmed in the pedipalps at the end of his forelegs. Polito was ready to mate, but was Isabella? This I wanted to know. The approach began like many others, a short dance to once more test the uncharacteristically docile nature of Isabella. She must have assumed he was set to simply tap or cross her legs again. This time it was different.

The embrace! Oh the embrace was passionate. Polito charged with a ferocity that could only be born of supreme lust. With a swiftness he grabbed hold of Isabella. It is burned into my mind how their many legs and fangs entwined, it was a marvel to see a spider's grapple come to complete fruition. Her legs were spread apart and her body was raised nearly upright for the endeavour. Their fangs were interlocked, a kiss that served the purpose of keeping Isabella from stabbing poor desperate Polito in the middle of their mating. She was exposed and harmless. He could do with her what he pleased.

Her epigine, functionally similar to a human's vagina, was there for the claiming. Isabella was a virgin you see, which makes Polito quite the lucky male indeed. With her epigine exposed he drove forward with his cum filled pedipalps. The bulb-like structures stabbed into the female spider one after the other. Polito's jizm was expelled rapidly from each, it was over in two cum filled punches. Such is the nature of spider procreation, the pleasure is like a flame that is extinguished moments after it is lit. Cum still dripping from Isabella's filled sex Polito scrambled, running back to the corner so as to hide from his no doubt impregnated lover.

Ah, it was so sweet yet so tragic. For I knew now such animalistic lust confirmed my suspicions. Isabella was no longer the fiercely intelligent lab assistant I had once partnered with. She was gone. In her place lay a spider, feral in mind as well as body. I swore her loss would not be in vain. As you can see, it was not, you still have your mind my little wasp. This is what lets me do this without the shame of thinking I've murdered anyone to get what I am after.

***

"And this is what I am after," said Frank to the caged Wasp on the coffee table as he vacuumed up the last of the leftover biogel. Just as Isabella's had helped him craft his transformative gas so too would the material left behind by his most recent victim. Loading up the gel in a bag he put the former human's clothes in the wash to get rid of any evidence of his strange crime. Then he left, wasp in hand.

"I've got someone I'd like to introduce you to," he joked with his newest wasp as her cage was attached to another. The buzzing of a second wasp filled her antenna, and made her strange new pseudo-heart flutter in anticipation and fear," I changed him a few weeks ago, so he's been quite lonely. You will help to make him more happy I think, and he you."

"Have fun lovebugs," said Frank as he climbed into the front of his car. The buzzing of love making wasps filled the acrid Arizona air as Frank tossed his mask into the passenger seat and drove off. There were many more houses for him to visit today. Many more insects to collect.