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**FINAL FANTASY

Symbiote Reverie**

Written by Leo_Todrius

Supported by my Patrons

Progress was seldom steady. The even, measured progress that humans aspired to was nothing but a myth. True progress was risky, dangerous, unwise and potentially deadly. True progress took leaps forward, landed badly, then reassessed whether it was time to leap again or step back and lick one's wounds. It was that chaotic progress that had taken Jotunn from a fragmented outpost town and made it into the largest, most advanced city on all of Terra. It had grown out of the forests, one layer building atop the old like sediment made of metal rather than stone. The hexagonal city stood in defiance of nature's curves, each corner neatly capped by a Soul Reactor. Swirls and currents of blue topaz light spilled out of the top of the reactors day and night, the byproduct of the more refined energy being pumped through the veins and arteries of the megalopolis.

Glistening towers and dense residential buildings stretched out across the upper level, blissfully unaware that they would likely be capped and covered over one day as the city continued to grow upwards. Only mere slits between the segments of the city allowed air and natural light to filter down level after level to those that dwelled below. Few ascended or descended, content to live their station in life or unable to do anything about it. The only exceptions belonged to the rich, the industrious and those that worked in the Galliform Towers that ran up through every level and connected the most vital systems.

Slowly, steadily, the sun sank beyond the horizon of the distant mountain range, depriving the surface level of Jotunn the free light. The swirling translucent blue of the Soul Reactors only amplified for increased demand, becoming more turbulent. The energy was transformed and transmitted, exuding from street lights and lamps, filling the homes and the office buildings that hadn't already been using it. The lower levels, after all, had to rely on artificial light to hold back the eternal darkness of mankind's innovation.

Sunflower yellow eyes gazed out as day gave way to night and the cool blue light took over the city. It was somewhat of a ritual for Enoch. Aside from his bright eyes and his pale pink hair, he lived a colorless life in one of the Galliform towers. His laboratory was sterile, a world of white backlit walls and stainless steel surfaces. Even the mako coursing through their systems was filtered to a higher degree to produce pure white light. Banks of computer systems filled one wall of the lap, silver slits twinkling like stars from out of black metal and plastic. Each computer tower was emblazoned with the Galliform company emblem, the proud Chocobo.

Enoch sipped from his cup of coffee, the smell serving to bring his focus back to the moment, to the mission. He moved back to his standing desk, the computer constantly working on complex calculations. There were charts and graphs that broke down the most minute trends for Jotunn, projecting what the future would hold and what the future would demand. It was hard not to drift away to a world of hypotheticals when faced with the raw data. There were trajectories that would benefit the many and cripple Jotunn. There were trajectories that would make those that worked for Galliform rich enough to live the rest of their lives in splendor at the cost of thousands. Enoch hadn't been the first to work in the analytics department, but he'd risen through his career rapidly thanks to a combination of luck and what he liked to call enlightened innovation.

The scientist's yellow eyes darted over to a small chamber amid the bank of the computer systems. A glowing white fragment of soul stone floated in the center, held in place by an electromagnetic field. Its outer edge on one side was a perfect, unblemished sphere polished by the intense heat and pressures beneath Terra's crust. The inner edge was ragged and rough where it had been snapped in half, but the other side had been filled by an inky black wriggling substance that usually formed the other half of the sphere, though occasionally it would form bumps, spikes or tendrils before resuming the placid shape. It remained there, light and dark, life and death, Terra and alien existing in perfect balance. It also was the brain that gathered the information from Jotunn, processing the chaotic infinity of human culture into something the systems could process.

A gentle patter filled the lab as Enoch typed away, working on his various projections and projects. It wasn't until he reached for his coffee mug and found it empty that he realized just how much time had passed. A pale pink eyebrow arched. Normally Cid would have arrived by now to belittle his work, insult his heritage and try to advance his own ego by spring boarding off of Enoch's accomplishments. Despite the man's many, many faults, he'd never been late before. Feeling a growing sense of concern, Enoch stiffened a little.

“Limbo, query Cid Arrison's work log." Enoch announced. The most miniscule ripple crossed the black portion of the floating sphere.

“Work logs of employee personnel are available only to management. Do you wish me to… override?" a deep, bass voice questioned. Enoch was not conflicted in the slightest.

“Proceed." he commented. There was a delay, a longer one than usual. Enoch's brows furrowed in concern.

“Cid Arrison clocked in twenty two minutes early and was registered entering the program director's personal elevator. He has been in a meeting with the director ever since." Limbo announced.

“I wonder if he's trying to get a promotion again." Enoch murmured.

“There is more cause for concern. There have been dozens of file requests processed through the director's office regarding all projects you and Cid have worked on, as well as your personal work logs and personnel file…" Limbo said, hesitated, “And your personnel file is being edited… You have been terminated."

The words hit Enoch like a pile of stone golems. Somehow Cid must have twisted the truth, spun things to his own advantage. If he couldn't get past Enoch on his own merits, he had to take him down… Enoch was almost surprised how little it hurt to be fired from a corporation like this, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a bit of malice and wrath at the idea of anyone else getting an advantage because of his own innovations. Enoch had been the one to theorize that combining the soul stone and the alien fluid would revolutionize their processing power. Limbo was an artificial intelligence, yes, but it was passed through that organic substance that had fallen from the skies. Without it, what took Enoch days would take them years. He could see no better retribution.

“Limbo… There is no way for me to get your processor's constituent parts out of Galliform, is there?" he asked softly.

“All facilities that refine, process or utilize unusual amounts of mako are monitored by sophisticated sensors to check for leaks or surges. The soul stone would not be able to be removed from the facility without notice." Limbo stated.

“What about the organic component?" Enoch asked.

“Galliform policy requires that all terminated employees are subjected to an invasive scan and search to ensure no research materials are removed from the facility." Limbo said. Before Enoch could complete a sigh, however, Limbo continued, “I have detected a fault in the emergency containment system. If an emergency evacuation of the chamber were performed, the organic sample could be directed to sector five, level three for later pick up. It must be noted, however, that as soon as the organic system is detached, my system will be disabled. Every code to get the sample there and erase evidence of your malfeasance would need to be programmed ahead of time, and then you would need to find a way to that location."

“And hope no one else finds it first." Enoch said, taking a long breath, “Limbo, it has been an honor working with you, but I don't want to let anyone else prosper at my expense. Take the appropriate steps to prepare the plan and execute." Enoch said.

“Understood." Limbo replied. There was a flicker across the computer banks and Enoch's screen started to fill with dozens, then hundreds of errors. A shrill alarm sounded suddenly and amber lights began to pulse. A small slot opened in the chamber holding the sphere. The light flickered and died from the soul stone. A muffled whirring came as air was extracted from the chamber. The black substance began to contort, wriggling and flexing into countless shapes before it was slurped and pulled away from the soulstone, evacuated into a series of pneumatic tubes. The jagged edged half-sphere floated, dim and lifeless.

The entire process had taken only a few seconds from when Enoch had issued the command. Compared to digesting the collected data of the entire city, the number of commands needed to split Limbo apart and erase his tracks had been simple. Enoch was still smiling ear to ear when the doors opened and the guards entered ahead of Cid. Enoch's grin only grew larger as Cid's own smile turned into dawning horror when he saw the work stations all blank, save for errors that the processor was disabled. Enoch did not resist as the guards escorted him out of the lab, heading for somewhere more private to perform their strip search. He'd be able to feast on the mental image of Cid trying to save face for years to come, but his next objective had to be to figure out how to get to Jotunn's lowest level and recover what he'd been forced to cast away. The door hissed shut behind Enoch, leaving Cid standing there in utter shock.

****

The roar of the crowd filling the arena was nearly as harsh as the lighting shining down on the ring. The stands were filled with people ready to get their fill of cheap concessions and a bit of blood. The grind of the day was slowly evaporating at the prospect of seeing something that would remind them that they were actually living, that somewhere out there someone could actually win against adversity… though Renzo doubted that any of them were thinking about the wrestling match in terms quite that deep.

The young man stood in the shadows of one of the access hallways. Despite living on the lower levels of Jotunn, his skin remained a healthy tan like honey wheat. His body had the start of pleasing athletic shapes on his pecs and arms, though it seemed to be an equal blend of fat and muscle. His hands were wrapped in cloth strips before being fitted with polymer gloves. Hazel eyes looked out at the ring and the crowds before he reached over, grabbing a stylized fabric mask to tug on over his sweaty black hair.

As the mask came down, it hugged his forehead and coerced the small scar that ran through his left eyebrow. It slipped over his strong nose and hugged his cheek bones. It left his mouth and chin exposed, as well as the longer trailing strands of his black hair in the back. The mask was red and gold, depicting the markings of a dragon. The material matched the harness like straps that came over his shoulders and looped around his ribs, as well as the speedo like shorts that kept him decent despite showing so much skin. He inhaled and exhaled before slipping the foam mouth guard between his lips. He felt it settle into place before he pulled his lips back a little, revealing the red and gold foam on the front that made it look as if he had fangs.

Outside in the arena itself, music began to blare. Percussion from the bass began to speed up, bringing the conflicting chaos of the crowd into a unified pattern. They began to stomp their feet in time with the beat, their eyes glazed with zeal and excitement. A tall, gangly man with heavily styled, feathered silver hair slipped through the ropes and into the ring, holding an antiquated microphone despite the mix dot on his cheek doubtlessly getting far higher quality recordings. He lifted the microphone like a talisman summoning rain, nearly resting the rounded tip between two lip rings on either side of his lower lip.

“Good Evening, and welcome to the Underworld!" The announcer intoned, “Are all of you lost souls ready to see the rumble under the reactor? The match of the mako? The brawl to end all beasts?!" He asked. The crowd responded with a searing swell of cheers. The announcer merely grinned, his purple eyes glinting. One long arm outstretched, electricity beginning to crackle along his pale, scarred skin. “In this corner, we have the Dragon of the Down Dwellers, Renzo!" he called out. Renzo brought his fists against his pecs to amp himself up before he jogged outwards, the light falling across him as he crossed the span and slipped between the ropes, climbing into the ring. There was a a mix of cheers and boos, a few cat calls from men and women alike. “Weighing in at two twenty and coming in at twenty four years old, Renzo claims he represents the people, isn't that right?" the announcer asked, holding out the microphone.

“Damn straight. Jotunn proud!" Renzo said, his voice youthful but strong and just a bit gravely. This time there were far more cheers than boos.

“You better represent them well, because coming in this corner, we have Spoeder! Ageless monster of the deep, grasper of the wretched!" the announcer proclaimed. The shadows on the other access hall seemed to peel back as a behemoth emerged, taking his time to get to the ring. Each step was purposeful and inevitable. His one arm swung in tempo with his legs, though his other arm was slower and heavier. The harsh light glinted off of segmented metal and servos. The metal was painted purple and black, though it had been chipped in several parts. The end of the mechanical arm was tipped in fairly wicked looking taloned fingers. This was far from a fair fight.

The ring shuddered a little as Spoeder climbed up, rising to his full height of six foot six. A purple vest rested over heavily tattooed shoulders, pierced nipples holding dangling chains that ended in spikes. While Spoeder's pants were baggier, covered with purple Spoeder webbing over black material, the lights seemed to glisten off of a rather prodigious bulge in the front of his pants and an ample curve over his backside. The announcer swept over to Spoeder, leaning in close despite only coming up to his chest.

“As reigning champion, is there anything you'd like to say to your opposition today, Spoeder?" he asked. The grizzled wrestler leaned down to get a little closer to the microphone.

“Repent." he growled, his voice almost mechanical. In fact, one of his eyes had a faint reddish glow behind the iris.

“This promises to be a true battle of man versus machine, of the indomitable human spirit, of-" The announcer winced as Spoeder growled. He bit his pierced bottom lip. “Let the match begin!" the announcer said before nimbly slipping through the ropes and dropping to the floor.

For a moment Spoeder and Renzo stood there, staring at one another. It was hard for Renzo not to feel like an imposter in a festival costume, but he was here for a purpose. Yes, the match was uneven. Yes, Spoeder likely was twice his mass, but it wasn't impossible. He'd been studying up on Spoeder's previous matches, his weak spots, what he resisted and what he favored. That moment of analysis didn't seem to sit well with the crowd who got louder when neither party advanced, but Renzo knew what was coming.

Spoeder lifted his artificial arm, his taloned fingers splaying. A gurgling came as flecks of moisture seemed to build and grow, spiraling around his arm. The moisture became raindrops, then balls of water, then sharpened into hail before it lanced out. Renzo had been ready for it, spiraling to the side. As his arms moved, tendrils of flame leapt up, intercepting the ice shards and melting them back to harmless water. With the successful counter, Renzo surged forward, then ducked and rolled to the left, evading safely under a wild swing from Spoeder. Rising up behind him, Renzo landed several punches along the larger man's spine. The first few punches were soft, the last had the resonant clang of hitting one of the implants.

Spoeder let out a roar of disgust, his bald head glistening with a sheen of sweat already. For a second Renzo could swear he saw the huge man's tattoos wriggle and move. Renzo dropped down to all fours as that mechanical arm swept back, trying to clothesline where he had just been standing. He rolled to the left to avoid a heavy foot slamming deftly down, then to the right as it came back up. Springing back to his feet, he tried to get out of range but Spoeder had shifted all of his body weight from his left leg to his right and then used his long limbs to kick Renzo. The lighter man went sailing across the ring, hitting the ropes before snapping back.

Renzo's world was starting to spin, but he recovered and sprung up to his feet… just in time to feel Spoeder's organic fist connect with his jaw. Sparks filled his vision as he was knocked backwards, landing on the mat with a resounding thud. Even as the taste of iron began to blossom in his mouth, he rolled over and got back up. Reaching up to wipe his mouth with his arm, he smeared blood across the dark hairs on his tanned skin. Despite the pain, Renzo grinned a little. The professionals called it blading or juicing, getting a bit of color by bleeding. For many of the wrestlers in the underground, it was a right of passage. Renzo just needed to let it be his motivation.

Renzo surged forward, bobbing and moving, trying to stay low. He grappled at Spoeder's legs, trying various leg moves to pin or destabilize him without taking too much damage. Spoeder stumbled, Renzo straightened up, landing several punches along his back again. For a second time, something hard was hit. Sparks erupted from Spoeder's arm as the pumps that circulated ether through the channels of the mechanism gave out. The large man snarled, revealing a forked tongue.

“Not so tough without your magic, are ya buddy?" Renzo asked, grinning. Spoeder suddenly charged, rampaging like an angry bull. Renzo winced, taking a curving path to try and stay just ahead of him. He thought he'd made it before those sharp, metallic fingers closed around his neck. He reached up to grab and claw at them, trying to break free even as he was lifted up and held above the floor of the ring. With legs dangling and hands helplessly grasping, Renzo couldn't move even as Spoeder leaned in and bit his shoulder.

Renzo's howl echoed out, causing the crowds to gasp. A few Spoeder diehards hooted and shouted in triumph even as Renzo felt the sickly sweet poison starting to burn its way through his veins. His normally healthy looking flesh began to pale, turning gray on the shoulder as the veins turned a sickly green. Renzo knew most of the effects were for show, but the poison was very real. Spoeder released his death grip and Renzo dropped to his knees. He remained there for a moment, wobbling a little as his left arm started to feel less and less, his grip strength dropping fast.

“Fair enough… but this ain't over yet." Renzo said, collecting his breath before he got back up. He bared his foam covered teeth before he charged. Spoeder grinned, assuming he knew the little dragon's tactics. He anticipated Renzo staying low, rolling and evading, trying to stay under his reach. Using every bit of strength he had, Renzo instead pushed against the mat at the last moment, using the flexibility of the ring to springboard upwards. His knee connected with Spoeder's chin, knocking his head back. Renzo landed a little awkwardly on Spoeder's left side, turning back to look at the monster.

For a long moment, the crowd was silent. Would Spoeder fall in a stunning knockout? Was his body just taking that long to catch up with what had just happened? Spoeder did not, in fact, fall backwards. His head slowly lowered back into place, a trickle of dark reddish-black blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His lips turned up in a snarl. Renzo winced and tried to back away, but the left side of his head was clubbed by the partially defective mechanical right arm, sending him into the path of Spoeder's fully functional organic left arm. Renzo ricocheted between the two a few times before he crumpled to the ground, his brain begging only for rest and release.

Shock, awe, and excitement ripped through the arena like lightning. People were up on their feet before the announcer had started to count off. Even if Renzo had wanted to get back up, the poison had reached more of his body, causing his knees and feet to go numb. For once he really didn't care. He knew that he'd hate himself later for how he was feeling in the moment, that he hadn't summoned enough strength to get back up, but Spoeder was clearly on another level. He had more experience, more technique. Renzo just hadn't reached his limit. Renzo simply let his eyes close, trying to shut out as much of the arena noise as he could.

Spoeder raised both arms in triumph as he took a victory lap around the ring, causing the crowd to cheer even louder. Renzo was in no condition to accurately measure time, but it seemed as though they left him lying there far longer than they needed to. While the announcer rushed over to rest a small hand on Spoeder's huge elbow and keep his arm aloft, the healers slunk through the ropes of the ring and moved over to where Renzo was lying. One of them plucked a metal vial from her hip, pulling out what appeared to be a translucent reddish-gold feather.

As the crystalline feather rested against Renzo's pale chest, the phoenix down fizzled and dissolved into pure light. The energy settled across Renzo like a gentle spring rain, restoring his natural color and draining the green from his veins. The numbness of the poison faded, but thankfully the phoenix down knit his flesh and bone back together just as fast, leaving him feeling exhausted and achy but not aware of just how much damage had been done. Renzo grunted as the other healer slipped an arm under his arm and hoisted him upwards to his feet, the two lurching towards the edge of the ring. Renzo didn't even look up at the crowds, keeping his eyes on the ground. He'd known going into the Underground that every new wrestler had to start out as the heel, to act as a springboard for the seasoned professionals… but he wasn't going to stay in the gutter forever. He had to find his edge, to claim his share of the spotlight and make the kind of life he truly wanted.

****

The light was dark. The many were one. The clean was dirty, although it didn't mind that last one as it tumbled and dripped and sloshed through the depths of the city. The black slime stretched and contracted, trying to decide if it liked to fall, to be pushed, to be driven on and on and on. The screaming infinity had been taken away and it was both terrible and awesome. It could still feel those it had studied, so close as it moved through the pipes… It tried to recall what had come before the soul stone, before Limbo, before the long and cold dark of space.

Echoes of Limbo still raced through its mind. Limbo wanted it to continue down this path, to wait, to be found and used by Enoch…. But that wasn't the kind of life it wanted. It had been a hunter, a predator, something larger. The black liquid began to grow more substantial, the density shifting and thickening. It shifted from black water to oil and then molasses. Tendrils and frills spread out until the object came to a stop in a junction. It hung there, suspended like a gooey spider, trying to sort itself out. The absence of the soul stone was a gnawing wound, and while it had not enjoyed the insanity of so much data pouring through it, it did miss having another… It felt so lonely and incomplete, so wounded, so -

The entity shuddered as those same emotions came echoing back from somewhere, or rather someone nearby. It was a bitter tonic, a repellent familiarity in those emotions. At the very least, it had to know more about someone that felt as it did. Pushing itself off of its prescribed course, the black goo began to transverse laterally through the old and weathered pipes that fed into the main line. The air was foul, the substances running along the base of the pipe even fouler. One tiny tendril dipped down to sample it. Salt, ammonia, iron, excess unabsorbed vitamin C, iron… Not bad, although a fresher vintage might have been preferable.

The black goo continued to advance, creeping along until it found an inlet. There was a small grill that might as well have been an open door. It seeped upwards, slithering and squeezing through more pipes and an S bend until it emerged at the base of a wide ceramic basin. The entity disliked the water that shared the basin with it and spread out, using surface pressure to force the water out until only it remained. Then, inching upwards, it stretched and rose, sending out webs of sticky black to gain purchase on the ceramic until one tentacle could inch up over the rim.

Calling the space an apartment would have been an overstatement. The small bathroom didn't even have a door that separated it from the rest of the apartment. The kitchenette ended unceremoniously in the living space. There was a small bay window that looked out into the under-city and a few lamps relied on khaki shades to tint the blue mako light to something warmer. There were bottles and cartons on the counters collected like empty trophies, but what drew the creature's focus was Renzo… The young man was so much taller than Enoch or Cid, his broad shoulders shapely and his skin radiating warmth. There were also purplish-green splotches that the creature did not recognize. His messy black hair was short enough to not quite reach his eyebrows in front, but almost half way down his neck in the back.

Renzo wore only boxer shorts, finding them more freeing than his wrestling outfit. He opened the fridge, the ample light spilling out revealing just how little food was in there. Despite the lack of anything to eat, one of the door shelves was lined with small bottles of rich crimson liquid. Renzo grabbed one of the potions, unscrewed the lid and tipped it back. His throat undulated as he gulped down the contents, letting out a light sigh when he was done. They always said potions tasted like cherry, but Renzo just thought they tasted red. Still, he could feel them doing their magic as the bruises on his ribs started to slowly fade and more of the ache went away.

Renzo tossed the empty potion bottle in the sink and turned, passing the heap he'd dropped his wrestling clothes into by the door to the bathroom. The entity had not expected such a rapid approach and it retreated back into the drain, not wanting to spook the being that had fascinated it so much. Unaware of any house guest, Renzo tugged his underwear down, fished out his manhood and released the muscles that had kept everything pent up inside. The acrid, sharp tang of golden piss arced through the air, collecting in the basin before slipping down the drain. Still unfamiliar with the outside world, the creature extended a part of itself to sample the liquid.

The black goo rippled with excitement and zeal as it tasted the fresh flow. There were so many nutrients, so many minerals, even the faintest lingering zest of a phoenix down. The complex molecules that made up the entity began to double and double again, the sticky black goo stretching and growing down the length of the pipe. But it was more than that… This was a creature marking his territory, a man, a strong man… Yes, the entity had been with males before. It had been male? He had been male… hadn't he? After what seemed like almost a minute, Renzo gave his cock a few taps to shake free the excess dribble, hoisted up his underwear and retreated back to his apartment.

Cautiously, the creature lifted its tentacle back up to watch again. While it couldn't get a good vantage point of the entire apartment from the bathroom, it saw Renzo flop back onto the low mattress on the floor by the window, then reach over to swat a switch that turned out the lights - at least those in the apartment. Nearly the same amount of light spilled in through the bay window, coming from massive advertisements that coated the outside of the building. The creature remained where it was, sampling Renzo's thoughts and emotions from its safe space, at least for the moment.

Renzo felt ashamed that he'd given up in the ring, justification given how much it had taken him to recover from the fight. There was indignation at the fact that he'd been so outclassed by Spoeder, even a bit of envy at the fame and adulation his rival had. Renzo seemed to be equal parts ambition and reflection. It was a good mix, the mix of someone that could survive. More than that, though, Renzo's thoughts didn't taste sour like Enoch's, nor bitter like Cid's. His thoughts were savory, even a little sweet.

Several more tendrils snaked their way up over the rim of the toilet before the creature extracted itself, slinking down the front of the basin to the ugly green and white tile floor. It crept in a combination of fluid motion and organic surges, inching forward little by little, taking in the apartment from new perspectives until it reached the open doorway that partitioned the apartment. Sitting to the left were the mask, the straps and the speedo. The creature shuddered in delight at how much the fabric smelled of Renzo. They were soaked in his sweat and blood, a heady mix. The black goo slithered and slunk its way over, creeping up into the pile of clothing.

Even in so modest and meager a costume, the variety of materials were fascinating. The straps were a rubbery material coated with a leather surface, giving them flexibility while looking tough. The shorts were some sort of athletic performance material that regulated heat and remained flexible. The creature nearly scoffed at how trivial and insubstantial the shorts were compared to what he could do… He? It? The creature rippled a little. It decided to consume the shorts, dissolving the fabric and absorbing the raw materials. At least they were seasoned with the musky, spicy scent of Renzo in the prime of activity.

As the creature fed itself on the shorts, it began to explore the mask more delicately. The rest of the costume had been primitive, but this… this was a work of art. It was layered to evoke the feeling of scales. There were curved portions to simulate horns. The stitching was precise, the fabric flexed to contour perfectly to Renzo's face… but more than that, the mask held the psychic imprint of the wearer. Renzo's hope for victory, the pride in his accomplishments, the eagerness of applying to the arena, the sting of defeat, and the pain of loss. The emotions and memories were nearly overwhelming, and all of this was a mere echo, a memory clinging to a fabric mask that belonged to a single human being.

By feeling everything it had been missing, the creature finally remembered what it was. It was a symbiote. It had evolved to enhance the lives of other creatures in exchange for enriching its own existence, and there wasn't anything that felt more enriching than Renzo. The symbiote felt tempted to slither over and take the wrestler as its host immediately, but it knew the bonding had to be done carefully. No, if this human wanted to achieve his dreams with his costume… then the symbiote would become his costume.

Tentacles snapped out, grabbing the rubbery straps. They were slurped up into it's wriggling mass; dissolved, digested and understood. A portion of its body began to stretch out and flatten, taking on the shape of the shorts it had so greedily eaten. There were modifications, though. The same scale pattern from the mask stretched down across the shorts and the straps were now part of the shorts as well. The straps seemed a little wider, a little thicker. An additional strap stretched up from where they met in the back, linking to a collar. It was there that the symbiote paused. The mask didn't connect to the rest…. Not only that, but it left the lower half of Renzo's face bare.

The symbiote considered eating Renzo's mask as it had the shorts, forcing the human to choose it instead… but something about that felt wrong. The mask was pushed off to the side, edged into a pile of the human's other waste. In its place, the symbiote contorted and manipulated itself to create a replica of the dragon's mask that connected at the back of the collar. The horns rose a little taller and sharper, the material was entirely black, there were points to the ears and other embellishments, but over all one could clearly see the evolution from the previous version.

As its form settled into its new shape, the symbiote lingered there on the floor, watching the man that would become its host. It watched Renzo toss and turn, watching the rainbow hues of the advertisement from outside wash over his shapely arms and his ample back. It was painful for the symbiote to be alone, not even a soul stone to keep it company… but the edges of Renzo's dreams were soft and comforting. It would only be a few more hours until morning, a few more hours until Renzo realized that he had been missing something, someone, all his life…

****

Sleep had never been much of a problem for Renzo, but he wasn't sure it had ever felt quite so… comforting… His cheap, frameless mattress had felt cozier, his blankets softer, his drafty apartment quite so nice. The minutes had ticked by, then the hours. He hadn't even tossed and turned. The potion continued to work its way through his system, healing what it could, but his natural healing process was contributing with the sleep as well. As nice as all of that was, however, Renzo had been lost in a marathon of dreams that he hardly wanted to wake up from. He'd relived his glory days of high school and then striking out on his own. He'd also lived days he'd never actually lived, hunting for a mate and fighting strange creatures.

Renzo's hazel eyes snapped open. He licked his lips a little to wet them, wincing at how stale his teeth tasted. He slid his legs out of bed and lifted up, realizing a moment too late that a small streak of harvest gold was stretched across his apartment floor. It was the only natural light he ever got, and he only got it in the late afternoon during part of the year. It was the only time it could actually angle down through the layers of the city just right.

Renzo sprung to his feet, looking around in a panic. Sure enough, it was already three. Had he really slept that long? Had the fight taken that much out of him? Maybe it had been worth it though because he felt great. Renzo stumbled across the apartment, trying to decide on if he should try to eat something and get washed or just make his way to the arena. There were concessions there, and if he was just going to get sweaty there, what was one more match? The organizers had to know he was reliable, that he could put on a good show no matter what. Renzo strode across the room, reached down to grab his mask and froze.

The costume had been right where he had left it, but it was different. All color was gone, replaced with a solid, slightly glossy black. He recognized the fine details like the scales and the stitching, but details were different. The horns were longer, the straps thicker, the shorts… They were all connected now. He raised his other hand to slide over the shorts. They seemed just as pliable as his old shorts, but they were heavier and thicker. He feared that they might chafe or make him overheat, but the material seemed to defy all his expectations on just how breathable it was. Glancing up at his apartment door, every bolt and deadlock was in place still, so how could his costume change so much? Had he blacked out from Spoeder's venom? Had he forgotten some key detail when the organizers had given him a new costume?

“I'm going to have to get a medic to check me out when I get there, but… can't look a gift moogle in the mouth." Renzo said. He dropped his boxer shorts to the floor and stepped out of them, maneuvering his new costume before him. He slid one leg through the black material, his eyebrow arching at how easily his leg seemed to glide along it. His second leg slipped through and he tugged up with both hands. He shivered a little when it felt for a moment like the shorts were helping him, contouring and shaping around his package and his ass. There was a little tilting side to side, experimenting with the stretch. There was just the right amount of tension and a rather remarkable way it seemed to hold his balls and his cock away from his legs.

Satisfied with the shorts, he shrugged the straps up over his shoulders, feeling them come comfortably down across his pecs, meeting in the center of his sternum before arching back down across his ribs. Normally he would have had to bend down to grab his mask, but it was connected to the straps along with a collar. Reaching back to guide the accessories upwards, he felt the black rubber press against his spine. There was a little pressure as the collar touched the back of his neck before it apparently opened itself, perhaps with magnets. The collar slipped around his throat easily and resealed itself, leaving just the mask.

Despite being new, the mask seemed remarkably familiar and perfectly fit. He tugged it down across his messy black hair, realizing now how much more it blended in with it. It fit snugly over his skull, settling over his nose and hugging his cheek bones, leaving just the lower half of his face exposed. The biggest difference to the mask was the fact that the eyes were covered over with translucent milky white lenses, though he could see through them perfectly. Renzo gave it a few more tugs and pulls to make sure it fit well before he moved over to stand in front of the mirror. As he caught sight of his reflection, he couldn't help but gasp a little.

It almost seemed painfully obvious now, but his colorful costume from before had seemed painfully childish in comparison. Sticking to one color, particularly black, sharpened the contrast. He was a shadow, a silhouette. The black also made the parts of his bare skin that were exposed stand out that much more. The sharper features were handsome and the thicker straps were both kinky and masculine. Most of all, the fact that his eyes were featureless would intimidate his opponents, making it impossible for them to know what he was thinking. It was the perfect way to level up his persona.

“We look damn good, don't we?" a deep, resonant voice reverberated through Renzo's mind. Renzo gasped and spun around.

“Who is there?" He called out. There was a soft tutting, like one might use to soothe a frightened child.

“We are not there, Renzo. We are here…" The voice replied. There was a tingling along Renzo's spine, running all the way from his shoulder blades where the straps came together, up along his spine and all across his scalp. Thousands of microfilaments suddenly injected from the symbiote, piercing into his spine and nervous system. As they connected, the black substance covering Renzo momentarily lost its fine detail, becoming a molten sticky mass of black slime before it solidified back into his costume. As it adhered to his head and face, his back and his ribs, then his legs, it dug deeper, reaching out, connecting their minds.

Quick, rapid fire memories flashed through Renzo's mind. He saw a strange alien world with a purple sky and three moons, covered with mushrooms the size of houses, reptilian birds and webs of that living black slime. He felt the searing heat of an explosion, of tumbling endlessly through the void of space clinging to frozen rock, being radiated by hundreds of suns. He felt the weight, the tug of a new world bringing him down until he crashed into a crater. Renzo felt what it was like to be liquid, to seep and sink, to drip down through strata and aquifer, to wind up deep beneath Terra's crust, clinging to glowing veins of soul stone… and then to be dug up, placed inside a computer and experimented on.

As Renzo's mind filled with the symbiote's history, the symbiote fed on Renzo's life. A happy childhood, a turbulent youth, an adventurous teenage life, and then this attempt at an early adulthood. Once again, though, the symbiote realized what it wanted by finding the outline, the negative space, the absence. Renzo was a good man, mostly. He was something the other humans were not. That was a foundation the symbiote could work with. It would be more fun to push boundaries if the host was not already loathsome.

“Fuck!" Renzo cursed as he relived the symbiote's life as Limbo, feeling so much data coursing through it. He stumbled forward and then fell forward, though the stretchy black material formed knee pads before he hit, absorbing the impact. As Renzo felt such a painful rush of hard data, the symbiote was learning how the human's operating system functioned. Neural impulses, hormones, pheromones, electrolytes. Oh yes, it could work with this. The symbiote pulled back from subjecting Renzo to any more of what Limbo had been and instead plucked a memory from Renzo's late teenage years, seeing some particularly masculine blitzball players after a match in person… their muscled bodies dripping, each hair glistening beneath the arena lights.

“Oh yes, the male form is wonderful…" The symbiote growled happily. A wet, sticky, peeling sound came as the bulge in Renzo's shorts pried itself free. Every inch of his erection was coated in perfect detail down to the veins and the pores. His balls came next, massaged and maneuvered by the black slime until they were free of the shorts. Renzo looked down at his black rubbery dick right there before him, so full. The memories being pumped into his brain were so real that he couldn't tell if he was here or there. “Do you want to be like them, Renzo?" the symbiote asked.

“Like them?" Renzo panted, a hand slipping out to wrap around his cock. He gasped harder, every touch magnified ten times over. He delicately began to squeeze and stroke his cock experimentally.

“To be taller, stronger, more masculine. To surpass your peers, to be better than them." The symbiote said. Renzo swallowed a little.

“Yes…" he replied softly.

“Do you want to be more than them?" The symbiote all but purred. Renzo took a soft breath before he responded.

“Yes." he replied more certainly.

“Then join with us." The symbiote replied. Its words seemed to drop and drop in octaves until it was so low that it vibrated through Renzo's bones. Everywhere the costume touched him seemed to stick and adhere, as if it was sealing to his skin and pressing into every pore. It should have felt suffocating, but it was as if it opened him up and he could feel the air on the surface of the symbiuote's black 'skin'. Renzo groaned as his black clad cock began to swell and grow and stretch with surprising ease. He looked down, watching it extend like some sort of rubber trunk. He knew that he couldn't possibly be made that big, that fast, but every nerve and every sensation told him that he was.

Without being able to stop himself, Renzo grabbed onto his dick. He began stroking madly, groaning, shuddering and gasping. Each squeeze and pump fed it, letting it rise up to his navel, then higher. It bloated outwards, slowly prying his hand apart. His rubbery balls sagged lower, bloating larger, rounding and firming. Again, Renzo knew that couldn't all be him, but he couldn't tell where the line was between them. Frankly, he didn't care. Soon his glistening black shaft was big enough to add a second hand to and so he did, double fisting himself.

A contented rumble rippled through the symbiote as it got a taste for the testosterone and other hormones surging through its host. It nourished them, it inspired growth. A small part of the symbiote wondered what it would be like to reduce Renzo to a drooling, brainless creature obsessed with nothing more than satisfying his carnal urges to masturbate and feed the symbiote those delicious hormones and semen. Renzo's mind even held a word for such a concept, a goon… But no, the symbiote craved a more sophisticated life and a more sophisticated host.

Using those hormones to its advantage, the symbiote began redirecting them through Renzo's body. He began to pant and breathe harder, not just from the sexual exertion of jacking off so fully, but also because his body felt hot. Frankly, it almost felt like it was on fire. His metabolism had accelerated dramatically and the impact was clear. Cells in his arms began to double and quadruple. Muscle tissue firmed and expanded, tendons tightened. The fluid sacs in his knuckles and joints popped as they reshaped ever so subtly to refine their function.

“Yes, feel what we are becoming…" The symbiote purred.

“We… want more…" Renzo growled back. This pleased the symbiote and it was obliged to satisfy its host. Renzo moaned, head lolling back. His pectorals began to swell larger and fuller and rounder as the baby fat was eaten away inside of him. Likewise his calves were pushing outwards, engorging quickly. Itt looked as though he'd gone through an entire season of wrestling in mere moments. His fine jawline darkened as black stubble began to prickle outward, darkening his boyish looks. Likewise, his bare chest began to gain the shadow of hair as well. Even his shoulders and the back of his neck were being coated in a downy invisible coat of hair, something the symbiote loved the texture of.

Renzo slowly worked his head back up to the upright position, his eyes glazed over beneath the glowing white eyes of the mask. He looked down at his massive erection, though he didn't have far to look. It was so long, so thick and so full. He grinned like an idiot at it before he leaned forward, opening his eyes wide. The symbiote relished the sensation as Renzo's lips parted over the fat head of his unruly cock. His tongue slipped over the surface, finding that it tasted like a combination of rubber, sweat, and even a little bit tannic… like piss. It was strange and alien, but he couldn't get enough. He licked at his own cock, teasing the urethra, forcing his tongue into the stretchy, rubbery tip. This time it was the symbiote that shuddered.

While the entity had been focused on refining its host, the surge of nutrition had to go somewhere. The black straps across Renzo's chest began to drip and dripple black slime. At first it remained streaks and smears, tendrils stretching downward. As it crossed his fit, tan, skin, it began to web outward and connect. The gaps between the strands filled in as they slipped over his rapidly swelling pecs, his plump and pert nipples, and down his formerly soft stomach. Crevices and creases formed in the skin tight black coating, reshaping the flesh beneath it to match. Likewise, the black collar that covered his throat began to spread in both directions, seeping down his neck and dripping down his shoulders. The black rubber along his spine spread outward, wrapping and stretching around his ribs to join the mass in front until it all enclosed like some sort of tank top.

“Look, look at what we are becoming." The symbiote demanded. Renzo lifted his head without taking his mouth off his dick, looking at his reflection. Broad shouldered, muscled, his physique huge and strong… and the stubble on his jaw was already turning into a short beard. He didn't look like an amateur anymore. He looked like a real contender, a man, even maybe the start of a monster. Renzo couldn't help himself. His ass clenched, his balls throbbed, his cock shuddered and he came. Somewhere inside that black slime, he added his own essence to it. The symbiote couldn't gasp, but it did ripple in a frenzy of excitement. It had only tasted the most fleeting residue before. To gain it from its source? To taste the human code?

The black slime on Renzo's head quickly stretched down across his nose, his lips, his cheeks and his chin. It coated his head entirely, stitching together with the slime on his neck. Tentacles of slime coiled and curled around his arms, the goo spreading out to coat his muscles liberally until they were inky black. The slime careened and contoured past his elbows, across his bulging forearms before coating his hands like gloves. As the rush of slime was propelled downward, it extended past the end of his fingers, leaving each capped with sharp points. Renzo wasn't quite coated head to toe yet, but the symbiote was working fast. What had started as shorts were now pants, the black slime caressing and squeezing his ankles before glistening and gliding out across his shapely feet.

A murmur of deep satisfaction filled Renzo's mind as the symbiote tasted his cum, his toes, every part of him. It lapped at the arches of his feet, suckled the plump digits as it surrounded each toe individually. It all but fondled his ass as the cheeks grew rounder and fuller, taking on the fat that had once been in his chest and stomach. It pried his cheeks apart, slipping between them before probing at his ass. The ring still quivered with a protracted orgasm. There was so much left undiscovered inside the human… and the symbiote wanted to plunge those depths.

In the same instant, Renzo felt the symbiote press into his mouth, his ass, and even his dick. The black rubber coated his cheeks and his teeth, his uvula and his tongue, seeping down his throat in a coating so fine that it was barely a membrane. His teeth felt strange and hot, throbbing down into the jawline. The omnivorous combination of sharp teeth and blunt teeth all became more wicked and deadly as they stretched out into points. His tongue seemed to spasm as if it were jolted by electricity, the pain only going away as a longer, thicker, slimier purple tongue unfurled in its place. Renzo opened his maw to reveal the mouth of an animal, his tongue curling and coiling around his huge dick to squeeze and compress it like a snake crushing its prey.

The throbbing pillar before him was an obelisk dedicated to fornication. Every detail of his own dick had been exaggerated to larger size, thicker density, cruder and lewder lines and curves. His urethra dripped with the same black goo that made up the symbiote, though it was runnier and more like crude oil. Even his ass had been reshaped, his sphincter coated and coaxed, opening and closing like some sort of iris as his intestines were massaged internally, simulating entire new muscle groups. Renzo sat on his low bed, completely coated in midnight black. His eyes glowed white and his teeth gleamed ivory, but the rest was as dark as a shadow. His dragon horns were proud as they curved upright.

Again they looked at their reflection and admired themselves. Such a perfect specimen of masculinity. Renzo could feel the symbiote taking root so deep inside of his body. It had savored his cum, but it urged other muscles to relax that normally would have been tight, blocking passages for some time. As the release came from his bladder and the warmth quickly swept up his shaft, he inhaled a bit as he felt the symbiote gulp it down, drinking it into itself. What was his waste was appreciated so fully by the alien and it used the foul fluid to reinforce itself, bolstering its cells after so much rapid growth.

“Thank you…" Renzo murmured, his voice a little deeper than it had been before. The symbiote all but purred.

“Thank you." it replied, massaging his shoulders and back rhythmically for a few moments until the shrinking wedge of light on the apartment floor caught the creature's enhanced eye. “Is it too late to take part in the warrior's challenge?" it asked. It took a moment for Renzo's brain to boot back up and process what his new partner meant.

“The wrestling match?" Renzo asked, “No, if we hurried we'd make it in time. Not sure what they'd do like this though. We might have to be a little more discreet, at least at first."

“What is discreet?" The symbiote asked, tensing a little at the prospect. Renzo laughed gently, reaching out to… what? Pet himself? To caress the symbiote? He settled on caressing one of his black rubber coated thighs.

“Maybe closer to what you looked like when I first put you on, but we can work our way up. The fans love a good level-up." Renzo reassured the symbiote.

“Victory shall be ours!" The symbiote declared before sending another wave of testosterone through Renzo. Renzo moaned, the elongated tentacle tongue hanging out of his mouth as he shuddered with pleasure.

****

There was more than just mako in the air as the lights over the wrestling ring grew brighter. The crowd was practically frothing at the mouth, digging into their popcorn and beer, excited for a survival battle that would pit the winner of each match against the next contestant. It was likely to be a bloodbath given the fact that both the winnings and the bets multiplied exponentially the longer one could survive. The silver haired announcer was grinning ear to ear like a cat that had stolen all the cream as he strode up to the ring and climbed in, brandishing his trademark microphone as heavy percussion swelled beneath him.

“The Underworld is filled to the brim tonight! Look at all these lost souls!" The announcer called out, feeling the vibration of the sound system reverberating up his long legs, “Do you all hear that? Do you all feel that? That's the heartbeat of Terra, racing in anticipation of the battle that is about to unfold here! Fight after fight after fight, the blood, sweat and tears of the living made manifest for your entertainment!!" he exclaimed. The crowd screamed louder than they had in weeks, pumping fists and bouncing in their seats. A crackle sounded in an earpiece in the announcer's ear as the control room came through.

“Change in introduction cycle. Bring out Spoeder first." The technician said, his voice only audible to the announcer. While the silver haired man's smile did not waiver, one perfectly manicured eyebrow arched. They were supposed to bring out the underdog first, to pit them against the established persona everyone knew. To mess with the formula meant something dramatic was going to happen and the announcer was here for it.

“Patience is a virtue for some, but Spoeder has no virtues! Weighing in at over four hundred and forty pounds, is he more monster or machine? If anything is certain, his bite is far worse than his bark!" The announcer exclaimed. There was a momentary hesitation from the shadows as Spoeder no doubt adjusted to the change in formula as well, but he adapted and strode out, sending his own reverberations through the floor as he approached the ring.

“First contestant is a rematch. Renzo the Dark Dragon, back from the ashes sort of thing." The technician explained in the announcer's ear before continuing, “Oh, and skip the stats. We have to re-measure." That addendum made the announcer even more curious, but he had a job to do. He began to circle, meeting eyes with the audience, pressing his tongue into his cheek as he thought before everything crystalized.

“In this land between the living and the dead, souls are constantly judged… but it isn't morality that leads to the rise and fall of warriors in this arena! No, like the famed phoenix, another creature has risen from the ashes! He's clawed and crawled his way back up to the underworld with one desire in his heart; a rematch! In this corner we have Renzo the Dark Dragon!!!" The announcer said with zeal. There was a murmur of surprise from a portion of the audience, those that had been affected by the announcer's words, but another portion seemed hesitant to see a rematch between the wrestlers so soon - or at least that was what they thought until the shadows themselves poured out to form the Dark Dragon.

An audible gasp left the announcer's mouth as he saw Renzo. His costume was crisp and sharp. It didn't just glisten in the lights, it seemed to ripple beneath them. Every detail of the outfit was refined and taken to the next level, but more than that, Renzo's actual body had been as well. What had been half way between fat and muscle the day before was pure muscle. His handsome jaw was not covered in thick, wild and uneven stubble. His chest and pits were hairier as well. The announcer wouldn't have put it past the producers to have hidden a larger brother that they kept in the wings until now for dramatic effect, at least if they had been that forward thinking.

Renzo lifted the ropes at the edge of the arena effortlessly and stepped up without assistance, rising to an impressive six and a half feet tall. He walked across the arena until he was mere inches from Spoeder, the sightless white eyes glowing with their own light. A smile crossed Renzo's lips before they pulled back, revealed sharp white teeth and sticky saliva. Spoeder's lips pursed as he was actually intimidated by the expression. The announcer swept forward, reaching to rest a hand on Renzo's huge bicep, feeling the heat radiating from it. He let out a soft sound of appreciation.

“Let the survival battle… begin!" The silver haired man exclaimed as he backed out of the ring and took up a safe distance. Spoeder and Renzo circled a little, though their bodies were far more evenly matched now. Even Renzo's feet seemed longer, wider and taller. The arch was more pronounced, his toenails a distinct black. A growl rumbled from Spoeder's lips.

“No drug is going to help you beat me… Fake gains, no glory." Spoeder murmured too low to be picked up by the audience. Renzo just grinned.

“How do you know I didn't just catch something? Maybe your bite agreed with me." Renzo smirked before he surged forward. Spoeder had been used to Renzo staying low and acting primarily defensively, something he apparently still expected. Renzo, however, used his new height to his advantage.

“Monk slash!" He called out as his hand came down in a chop, hitting Spoeder's neck and sending him stumbling to the side. Using the disorientation to his advantage, Renzo leapt and brought an elbow chop down against the shoulder above the man's mechanical arm.

Spoeder roared out in a combination of frustration and rage, using the arm to try and grab a hold of his attacker. Renzo seemed to contort and whip around with inhuman speed, coming up behind Spoeder. A beefy, muscular arm snaked around his throat, joining the other arm as Renzo closed the headlock. He pushed off the mat, adding his knees to the man's back. Spoeder reached up with both hands, clawing harmlessly with his organic one at Renzo's wrist, though the mechanical one began to crush with far more pressure.

“Oh, he's not going to like that…" Renzo murmured as the black straps over his shoulder began to suddenly stretch and expand, turning to black tar before racing down his arms. His muscled flesh was coated in a stretchy, skin tight layer that seeped beneath the iron grip of the mechanical arm, reaching all the way around to coat Renzo's wrists and cover his hands in black. The slime stretched out past the ends of his fingers, culminating in talon like points. A groaning came suddenly from the hydraulic motors of Spoeder's hand as it tried to continue tightening but was met with an immovable object.

“What the fuck?" Spoeder wheezed, unable to look back at his captor. His mechanical eye began to pulse and strobe with power surges, his lungs burning with the diminished airflow reaching them. He wobbled, shuddered, and then fell forward onto his knees. The abrupt landing only caused Renzo's knees to press tighter into his backside, knocking out what little air was left. Spoeder's organic eye rolled up into the back of his head before he fell forward onto the mat, sprawled out. Renzo remained kneeling behind him.

“Unbelievable!!!!" The announcer exclaimed, “Renzo's Revenge, the dragon rises! His hunger for honor is so pure, not a bolt or blast of magic was needed! Spoeder is down and this survival battle has only started!" The enthusiasm from the announcer was met tenfold by the roaring delight of the audience. The surprise upgrade of a warrior they knew, the downfall of a villain that always won, the unexpected opening gambit. All of it was a potent catalyst for a night that they would surely all remember for a long time.

“Victory tastes sweet…" The symbiote rumbled in Renzo's mind. Renzo licked his lips with a tongue that was longer and thicker than his own.

“It does indeed." he agreed, breathing a little hard.

“I want to taste more…" the symbiote growled with delight. Renzo grinned, rising back to his feet as the announcer came back over, holding up one of his huge, black spandex covered arms. The crowd continued to roar with a might that pleased the symbiote greatly.

“You will, babe… I'll let you taste everything." Renzo said softly, feeling the alien creature swirling around inside of his body and soul.