FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Drunk, depressed, and down on his last legs, Conner stumbled down the street, unaware of the time but figuring it to be late into the night, given that the last dive bar on the strip had kicked him out after last call. It didn't matter. There was no one waiting at home for him anymore, at least not in the dingy apartment where he now hung his hat. He had been locked out of his home where he shared the last five years with his now ex-wife, and it would not do for him to break the restraining order in trying to claim the small amount of the settlement that was rightfully his. It was little matter, anyways, having just lost his job and on his last few hundred dollars, not even enough to keep his rent going till the end of the month. Booze truly was his only reprieve, if only a fleeting one.

The sight of a single on-light caught his attention, and he looked up, blurry-eyed. Thinking it to be a bar still open, he stumped toward it, almost crashing his sizable body into the door as he did so. Not expecting the door to open, he had placed too much of his weight on it as it pulled inward, nearly taking him inside with it. Thankfully, the olive-skinned woman within had enough time to move aside before Conner ran into her, not quite falling on his face but only just.

"Wh-this ain't a bar," Conner muttered, not at once hit with the familiar smells of booze, sweat, and cigarettes, but rather incense and spices that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Still, he maintained the constitution not to throw up and managed to right himself, wobbling a little before eying the proprietor with some curiosity.

The woman, feigning ignorance about his condition, started to speak. "No one ever comes in here without a reason, especially at this late hour," she stated, eerily.

Conner, with no idea what she was on about, tried to stumble around to find somewhere to sit and perhaps stop the room from spinning. Yet, he barely made it a foot before he fell down, knocking into something against the wall and clattering it to the floor, hearing it shattering upon impact. It was enough of a shock for him to get up and apologize profusely, only then to wobble a bit from the spinning room once more.

"Can I help you with whatever it is you're seeking?" The woman repeated, clearly irritated by his actions but not ready to throw him out, for reasons that Conner couldn't quite fathom.

"Should there fucking be?!" Conner stuttered out, not really coherently though it was obvious he was starting to get annoyed with her. True, it was his own choices that led him to this predicament, but he didn't need to be pestered over every little thing, damnit!

"Alright, alright, enough of the pleasantries. You won't be able to leave if we don't get your path figured out. If you can't even tell me enough to get started, we'll have to do a reading," the woman said, tapping her foot as she turned around and grabbed a box off the shelf, something that immediately triggered red flags in Conner's aching head.

"Hey, what the fuck are you trying to do to me!?" He exclaimed, figuring she was going to pull a gun on him. In his frustration, Conner knocked the box from her hands, worried for his safety. As the box of tarot cards spilled everywhere, Conner was overcome with a sense of regret, not wanting to hurt the woman for legitimately thinking he was in danger.

Still, he could hardly apologize as the movement caused his already precarious stomach contents to swirl, making him need to purge them without control. It was all he could do not to turn around and throw up all over her cards, but some of the vomit still splattered on them, scattered as they were. Conner was left sputtering and coughing, weak and unable to move as the woman rose, her disgust palpable as she reached for another object on the shelf, this time a book.

A fleeting glance at the placement of the fallen cards led the woman to her decision. Only death, despair, and trash littered the fate of the man as best she could read from a cursory glance. Why such filth would make it to her doorstep, she had no inclination. But he had tested her patience to the breaking point, and it was obvious that such refuse was not meant to persist in the world of man, at least in his current form.

It was both the stink of his vomit, the hand that smacked her box away, and the notion of filth that made her choice clear. Though she had never cast such a spell before, it was something she knew persisted in her books, and with a pointed, outstretched hand, she chanted something in Latin, the sound of buzzing insects ringing in Conner's ears. Conner, in his desperation to stand, nearly tripped over his own puke, though the wide open door and the cool air were enough for him to know where he was going. Out of the putrid stench of his own making, Conner was able to move with renewed ability, if only to escape the energy that was shooting through him with the woman's words and the constant buzzing burning into his ears. A buzzing that was starting to make more sense to him the more he stumbled his way home...

Her work done, Delores put down her book, panting from the exertion of casting such a complex spell. The full force of its power on the man would be stretched out over the next several days, making sure it would have its proper, punishing effect. Not that she wanted to see it first hand, figuring it would be a rather disgusting experience besides. It wouldn't matter when his presence in the world was traded for a simple, disgusting housefly...

******

The first thing Conner did upon waking was make his way to the bathroom, worshiping the porcelain bowl as he emptied the contents of his stomach. Memories of the last night were a blur, though he was sure that he'd drunk too much, and perhaps eaten something spoiled for him to feel so ill. It seemed like the entirety of his stomach contents were being emptied into the toilet at once, enough that he wondered if his organs were forfeit. Still, the convulsions in his stomach were such that he was more than a little concerned, especially since the heaving wouldn't cease for some minutes.

To his concern, Conner noticed upon finishing that something seemed wrong with his tongue and mouth, as though numb from the acidic stomach fluids he'd ejected from his stomach. But the ache in his teeth was becoming persistent, even to the point that getting up and brushing them was not enough to alleviate it. Worse, his gums were bleeding the more he bushed them, as though he hadn't done so in weeks. Not that he'd cared much about hygiene as of late but...

"What the fuck...?" He muttered as the pressure against his gums became such that one of his canines was pushed backward, as though it was loosening from his mouth. Reaching up to touch it, a chill ran through his body as he realized with some fear it was almost out of its socket. Staring in horror, Conner gazed down at the tooth in his hand, not something he had seen since his youth and the subject of many a nightmare. The blood flooded his mouth for a few moments then stopped, as though the wound had sealed and he'd never had the tooth to begin with.

Sitting down hard, Conner found he was afraid to even reach up and touch his gums. It felt as though his other teeth might be in for the same fate, though he had no way to tell, exactly. All that ran through his mind was disgust at the obvious disfigurement, something he did not deserve without years of heavy drug use. With no way to afford dental care, he was at the whims of whatever cancer was eating away at his gums and teeth. And then there was the numbness in his mouth...

To his dismay, that was not the only thing to be ailing him. There was a persistent itching at his sides, as though his skin was prickling with the growth of something bizarre just underneath. Scratching at the reddening flesh over an hour, eventually, a strange texture met his touch, as though a pained rash. A little nervous to look down, the sight of a patch of black skin with a few rather long, thick hairs sticking from it left him to puzzle over his predicament. Part of him was inclined to try to peel it off, but the redness around the site made such a prospect unappealing, at least for now.

Knowing he should try to get to a hospital but well aware his insurance could not cover it, Conner had no choice but to stay at home, checking his body constantly for any signs of further change. Not even the mediocre daytime TV programs could distract him from the persistent prickling over his sides and back. That was hardly to be the only concern with his internal organs gurgling as much as they were, almost as though he'd gotten food poisoning. His ass, too, seemed a little thicker, tightening in his pants and making him want to take them off. And why not, given that he had nowhere to go and no one to come visit him?

In the end, being naked served only to make him more and more paranoid over the state of his body. His belly had bloated to almost twice its usual size, as though his insides were fermenting and creating an air pocket that signaled his emanate demise. Worse, the blackened skin was continuing to spread over his form, making him look sickly and dying. Yet, instead of the flesh being taken by rot or gangrene, it was rather firm, supporting the dozens of off-feeling slick hairs, more sensitive than anything his human form should have managed. Not that he was inclined to touch them, their reflexive twitching able to deter minute alterations in the air that make him quiver and feel ill.

The effect on his stomach was obvious too, forcing Conner to vomit every few hours or so, even though nothing should have persisted in his stomach. Some of the vomit brought up blood with it, though it seemed that a strange fluid was present as well, one that stank even after he tried to flush it away. If he didn't know any better, Conner might have thought it was his organs dissolving, something he was throwing up yet wasn't killing him, at least, not yet.

By late evening his teeth were mostly gone, as was the hair atop his head, like he was in the final stages of cancer treatment. Yet, for some reason, by some force that Conner had no name for, he was still alive, be it violently ill. The sight of his warped, sickly visage was enough for him to shatter his only mirror, causing blood to pour from the wound, only to change into a clear, mucus-like substance before the wounds themselves closed without Conner understanding why. It was one of the myriad changes to his form that made no fucking sense, the end results of which were unknown but were slowly encroaching on him as the hours ticked passed.

Eventually, he managed to pass out, though the mental machinations of his REM were perhaps stranger than what was happening to him in the waking world. The dreams took place in his apartment at first, though it was far more filthy than anything he had lived in. Even filled with rotten food, soiled clothing, insects, and their spawn, it felt as comfortable as anything had ever before. It was as though he belonged there admit the squalor, something that made no sense but something he simply couldn't deny.

It was more than that, the insects present being far larger than humanly possible. Gigantic beings, ones that mated and laid their spawn, desiring to feed and procreate above all else. Their presence brought the compulsion to bend down and...what? Such was so alien to his senses that Conner could hardly fathom it in his half-consciousness state. But whatever was happening, there was no denying it was the most fulfilling experience he had known through his entire life...

It was a strange ache in his side that prompted Conner to wake, as though he'd developed a massive, sensitive pimple. Reaching down to touch it, he shuddered, an expansive bump meeting his fingers that should not have existed there. It was likely puss-filled, and Conner was shocked the moment he realized something twitched inside, as though reacting to the contact. With no basis for what such could be, Conner could only lie there in the dark, terrified not only for its presence but for the one adjacent to it on the other side of his body as well...

Even fatigued as he was, there was no chance of his getting back to sleep with his concern over his state of being. Every now and then the growths twitched, as though something within was trying to break its way through. Clearly, it was the irritation of such developments that had caused the pimples, but the scope of their swelling was beyond anything he could imagine, nearly half the circumference of his shoulder by the time the dawn's light settled into the room.

Despite the fatigue that left him foggy-headed, Conner could not deny a slowly building restless energy coming over him, something within that compelled him to go out. There was no basis for the desire, no reason for him to leave, save to seek medical help, though by this time it was likely his life was forfeit. Then why did he feel so...twitchy? He should have been bedridden at the very least, starving as he was. But his entire body was vibrating at this point, as though his hunger and sleep were the problems of another being within him, one that was no longer in control...

Much to his dismay, the nervous outlet seemed to have another focus, his cock coming to an erection as he lay there shivering and pained by the growths at his sides. He was powerfully erect, with no idea what was causing the arousal. Nothing about it made any sense, though he was still prompted to touch himself, or whatever was present down below. He'd felt that same tingle of change down there, and it felt odd to urinate the last time he had to. With his body in flux, as it was, the disgust at masturbating his sex kept his hands at his sides. It was soon to be taken out of his hands, quite literally as his body was wracked with an unwanted orgasm, spilling sticky fluids into his underwear and groin. The pleasure was only momentary, as much a biological function being fulfilled rather than anything his higher brain had desired. Even with the disgust he felt being covered in drying seminal fluids, Conner could not bring himself to wash up, already reeking and not wanting to touch his body regardless.

Starving as he was, Conner was eventually forced to rise and explore the cupboards, finding little but booze and cigarettes. He figured he was too ill to keep anything down regardless, and the hunger pangs plaguing him seemed to have a focus elsewhere, craving something he had no name for. He was therefore left to suffer, with no ability to eat, to quell the pangs playing over his body from this horrid degradation.

Well into the day, the temptation to poke at the growths became too much to resist, much like an irritating pimple. The skin around the growths was squishy and thick, and touching it hurt, not the growths themselves but how they pushed against the skin, as though a foreign substance trying to assimilate him. Conner was soon too afraid to touch them further for fear of what might happen if he did so. The skin had been pulled painfully taut, twitching every so often to remind him of their presence. It was terrifying to have something so grotesque growing within him, but there was nothing he could do about it, save grabbing a knife and trying to cut them from his anatomy. And he might have, had he not been so fatigued, so violently ill. Of course, there was every chance such wounds would kill him, but was that a worse fate than what was already happening to him? He couldn't imagine what the endgame was but either way, he was certain it was the end of his life as he knew it.

Passing out sporadically, the dreams that followed were enough to jar him to a state of wakefulness, simply to be rid of them. With a bloody flurry, two monstrous black growths burst from his sides, writhing and tightening around him to the point he was sure they would strangle him. The terror of possessing such things was enough to leave him in a cold sweat, unaware that such was about to happen to him in the waking world as well...

Without warning, the force of the things burst through their prison, leaving Conner to scream himself awake as though he was privy to some sort of nightmare. They were massive, black things, half the size of the bumps themselves and clicking violently with thick, gnarled claws. Connor could hardly believe he was awake by this point, let alone privy to the growth of what seemed to be insectoid limbs, sitting on his body as though they belonged there. Conner could hardly be sure which was worse, having them waiting to grow or to view the horrific visage of what he was doomed to own as the changes aggressively stole his humanity from him.

Possessing them was enough to make Conner pass out from fear, though it was only a brief reprieve. Feeling them move of their own accord was enough to make him realize he still had them in the waking world, looking more like insectile legs than anything else he could name. The stiff claws on the ends were unnerving enough to make him question the eventual state of his body. Conner could hardly fathom what was worse, death through a mysterious illness or the growth of insect-like leg parts that were but a prelude to the rest of the changes. Still, it was his cross to bear, and all he could do was sit there in the dark and let it happen, regardless of the grotesque outcome.

Much to his ire, Conner was plagued with other changes through the night, in particular, the spread of the black skin covering him and the thick hairs that came between the spaces in the armor. Having to run to the bathroom despite the fatigue and illness, Conner was revolted when his vomiting dislodged several remaining teeth, making him glad he'd destroyed his only mirror. He couldn't feel any in his jaw now, his gums mushy and something hard having swelled under his tongue, a keratin growth he had not possessed in his humanity. His hair, as well, was all but gone, the skin of his scalp either lumpy or covered with that same unsightly black skin.

A familiar ache pressed against the skin of his back, leaving Conner with a horrific fascination. With some trepidation, Conner reached for them, feeling something new twitch at his touch. The same type of pus-filled growths were present on either side, as much as he could ascertain. The sensation of something within them twitching scared him to the core, Conner was unsure exactly what they were but not prepared for the further horrors that the change would force upon him. Were they more legs preparing to grow? Wings? Something even more grotesque? Conner couldn't even begin to imagine.

Something on his finger seemed to catch on the skin of his back, and Conner reflexively pulled, not expecting a sickening pop followed by the sensation of his nail parting from the skin. Pulling his hand back with a start, a glue-like ooze leaked from the separation, the nail hanging from the bed without an ounce of blood. Conner started dumbstruck, looking down at the loss of his nail as much as the rest of the soft tissue that seemed not intended for his new body. Not wanting to see it still hanging there, Conner carefully pulled it off, throwing it to the corner to be discarded. Making sure to be careful not to scrap the rest of his nails, Conner sat there for a time, wondering if there was a point if they were destined to fall off. Yet, he didn't want to lose them if he didn't have to yet, still thinking it akin to self-mutilation.

Stomach no longer able to bring up anything else, Conner felt his guts gurgling once more and decided to look through his cupboards for something to eat. All that seemed to appeal to him were some outdated ingredients, though the smell of something succulent seemed to stick in his nose to the point he was prompted to pull out what seemed to be a bag of sugar. The scent made him salivate, and he gazed longingly at the tiny crystals, the idea of eating it more palatable than he ever thought possible. The garbage left over in the can, as well, seemed to call to him, but Conner wasn't quite ready to check out that source. Still, the sugar was making him salivate, almost to the point he could...

Before he knew what he was doing, Conner felt himself vomit, his spittle landing on the sugar and causing it to sizzle a little. As though reacting to the smell of the dissolving crystals, Conner could almost feel the growth under his tongue starting to twitch, seemingly drawn to it. The thought of what it was made him vomit onto the sugar even more to the point that he backed away, and revolted. His body was acting like some sort of damn-fly! Was that what was happening to him? Conner couldn't possibly comprehend. And yet...

For what seemed like an eternity, Conner simply lay there, rocking back and forth and trying not to whine aloud his lament at his fate. It was more and more obvious he was turning into some kind of giant bug, the reality of which made him almost long for death. Yet, even his desire to die was not able to override his predisposition for self-preservation. It left him to allow whatever it was to happen unchallenged, with no idea of the source of the disgusting degradation, let alone how to stop it from spreading.

Even in those blessed moments of unconsciousness between lucid periods, Conner was not afforded a reprieve from the horrific changes and their eventual implication. There was the ever-present need to feed, the smell and texture of garbage and detritus more palatable to his new senses than anything he had consumed as a human. Perhaps worse than that, he was still horny as hell, needing to mate and to...lay? He wasn't sure where the sensations were coming from, not exactly. He wasn't even sure he still possessed a penis, the throbbing down there more alien than anything he had ever experienced. Still, he was more aroused than at any point he could recall, and only becoming more so from persistent dream-state images of white, spherical objects descending from his throbbing backside...

"Ohh...fuck!" Conner called out in his sleep, not realizing he had cum from the dream alone, semen spraying over his still human groin with more warm cream than he thought possible. Thinking himself to be spent, it did not stop, as though the entirety of his testicular contents were being unloaded all at once. Conner was left to moan, not wanting to touch himself but not needing the contact to finish what was the longest orgasm he had ever experienced before.

Eventually, the release stemmed to the point that Conner was no longer getting any pleasure from the act. Rather it was more akin to his testicles being squeezed of all their contents. It was almost painful, and Conner reluctantly turned on the light to see what had become of his sex. The sight of his testicles retracting, his cock having already been sucked inside him, leaving only a dripping hole where it once sat somehow made him shiver more than any of the changes thus far. It was disgusting, and disturbing, especially as the black skin encroached over his groin while the human hairs once peppered it had all fallen out. He wanted to scream, but to be honest, was there any point? No one would hear him, and, surely, wouldn't be able to help him besides.

Still, it was impossible to hold in a scream any longer, and the sound it elicited made the whole situation much worse. His human vocal cords seemed absent, replaced by an odd buzzing, like that of an insect, though deeper, likely from his size. Conner quickly closed his mouth, not wanting to hear the horrid sound again and shivering from the very notion it had come from him in the first place. It was amazing he could still feel fear with all the changes that had robbed him of his humanity this far. But there was something about the loss of his voice that really seemed to trigger a sense of despair that surpassed all else this far. He had no way to communicate like this, no way to confess his sorrows and ask for help, even if he thought he deserved it. Then again, how could anyone deserve this?!

In an attempt to play with his mouth once more, Conner's action seemed to trigger whatever had replaced his former tongue. Something seemed to unfurl from within, far longer than he could have prepared for. It quickly distended from between his former lips, moving within the range of his vision and making Conner more curious than afraid. Something powerful curled at the end of it, which he could flex if he focused enough. It was bizarre, even stranger than the lumps of new arms at the sides of his trunk. Almost as though he possessed a-

A knock at the door caused him to retract the growth as quickly as he could, looking toward the entrance with some fear. He had no idea who could be visiting him, certainly not family or friends. It mattered little in the end, Conner knowing he couldn't be seen like this before he was caught and studied, or worse. Yet, in his current state, there was no getting away, and he was privy to whoever was intruding on him, provided they had a way to get through his locked door...

The sound of a key entering the lock made him stammer for a moment, that irritating buzz prompting him to hush as the door opened and the sound of a somewhat familiar gasp hit his ears. It was his landlady, had to be if she had the key. A small iota of shame ran through him; though his place was normally unkempt, it was in far worse shape than usual with the stink of rot and his bodily secretions. His landlady, Camilla, let out a retching sob from the stink, and Conner found himself hoping she would leave and not see him in the corner, huddled and afraid. Yet, she was determined, it seemed, calling out to him before placing a letter on his stained counter. Likely an eviction notice, though such did not matter with all that had transpired. She did not seem inclined to stay any longer, and Conner felt himself breathe an internal sigh of relief. He at least some time to formulate a plan, maybe get out of here unseen before he changed further-

Yet, Conner was stunned by a sudden pain, one that rang through his skull to the point he had no reprieve but to cry out, that horrific buzzing resounding through the room and causing Camilla to cover her ears as well. He had no control of the reflexive buzzing, and despite the intensity of such, he was able to raise his hands to rub the space causing him the irritation. All he could do was to panic further as two feathery protrusions met his touch, having evidently erupted from his temples. Swaying at the contact, Conner was so awash in focusing on them that it left him barely aware that his screaming had ceased, at least through his ears. Camilla still seemed stunned by the force of it, and Conner was momentarily concerned he had lost his hearing. Yet, it was clearly something different, like the vibrations were being received through the new growths, something like...antennae?

As though responding to his awareness of them, his antennae started to move of their own accord, fixated on the sound and scent of the other being in the room with him. It was akin to reacting to a smell of sorts, something he didn't fully understand but one that he couldn't ignore. It shouldn't have triggered a sensation in his loins, his human mind not finding the older woman attractive. But something in the odor made him reflexively rise toward the source, as though he was honing in on it. Any fear he had being spotted was forgotten as he spied the woman, hearing her scream through his antenna and not his ears this time, which was much more comfortable. It still annoyed him, however, to the point he wished to shut her up. And within his new instincts, he had in mind the perfect way to do so...

Without prompting, that strange coiled appendage within his mouth unfurled itself, seeking the source of the pheromones his antenna was detecting. Camilla, for her part, had enough sense to try to run away, but with surprising speed, Conner was on her, his insectoid limbs cracking as the clawed barbs latched themselves to either arm, preventing her from getting away with their immense strength. It was easy for him to turn her around, glimpsing the fear in her eyes as she continued to scream. Such should have disgusted him, but some instinct in his mind found his actions necessary to shut her up, though more than that, he needed to...

Writhing like a tendril, his new appendage sought Camilla's mouth, still open as she screamed. The proboscis-like protrusion pushed in, making her gag as it was forced down her throat with lightning speed. Yet, Conner could see no fault with his actions, acting on compulsion and feeling it necessary to do so. Proboscis properly placed, Conner felt something pulsating through his protrusion, being pumped down Camilla's gullet. He would not stop if he could, needing to eject whatever he was forcing down her throat. It made his absent genitalia ache with ecstasy to do so, and when he'd finished and pulled out, Conner felt an orgasmic shiver running through his being, as though he had finished with a lover.

Left gagging, Camilla fell over, just now able to breathe as the proboscis was removed from her throat. Conner felt no interest in her now, hardly able to muster a human sense of concern. Instead, he was eager to leave, having been...done with her? Was that the right terminology? It mattered little. He had to get out into the night to...what, exactly? Surely it was just to hide his new form, though there was another compulsion, one he could scarcely comprehend. Still, he instinctively made his way out of the door and the building, thankful for the oncoming night to hide his presence.

Meanwhile, Camilla lay there, vibrating from the forced oral penetration and the agony running through her being. It had forcibly injected something into her, and Camilla felt sick, wanting to vomit it up to save herself. Yet, not even retching seemed to have any effect, and she was left stunned, unsure what to do. It took all she had to even get to her feet again, leaving her to wobble as she tried to get her bearings. To her surprise, no sooner had some done so than her tongue seemed to light on fire, the pain leaving her in agony. She wanted to reach in and grab at it, though the pain was more than she could bear to the point it almost seemed as though her tongue was dissolving. It was disgusting, and all she could do was cough a little, a strange vibration resonating through her voice as though something was altering within.

All at once, the sensation of pain resonated more sharply, and within seconds, there was nothing left of her tongue, the entire organ being dissolved into fatty tissues that sat thickly on the bottom of her mouth. It was revolting to the point that she wanted to vomit all over again, though nothing came out as she reached inside her mouth, desperately grasping for a tongue that was not there. That was not to be the case for long, the remnants of her tongue fueling the growth of something new erupting forth in a bloody torrent. The growth seemed to reach out toward her hands, tickling the skin and leaving her aghast. Opening up like a flower bulb at the base, a fleeting thought made her certain it was the same type of organ that had infected her. Now that it was a part of her, she wanted to reach in and tear it out. Still, no matter how much she longed to be rid of it, such would have been akin to ripping out her tongue. And that was not to be the last thing to change...

Conner, meanwhile, was already on the street, looking for a place to hide. He didn't want to be exposed, but more than that, he was starving, having expended his resources in doing...whatever he had done to the poor woman. He hadn't meant to, but at the time it felt so right that he had no control over the compulsion. And it had felt so good...too good, in fact. Despite his lack of genitals, it was the most orgasmic thing he had ever experienced. And, perhaps worst of all was the reality that had he been in the same position once more, he would have done it over again...

Still, for now, it was the hunger at the forefront of his thoughts. He couldn't smell in human terms any longer, as though his brain had been rewired to accommodate for the changes to his senses. His antenna, however, seemed to be picking up on something rather delectable, though Conner could hardly fathom what exactly that might be. Still, with how intrigued he was, he couldn't help but follow the stirrings of his new antennae, even as they seemed to guide him only to a dumpster, the buzzing of insects almost deafening to his new antenna. Though the refuse and thrown food should have been revolting by human standards, there was something about their presence to his antenna that attracted him. He moved toward it reflexively, as though he would have a succulent feast after days in the desert. Not really sure what he was doing, Conner felt he was along for the ride as his new proboscis stretched out of his mouth, as though seeking the source of whatever his antennae were fixated on.

Despite his human disgust over what he assumed his body was about to do, Conner couldn't bring himself to pull away or wrestle some semblance of control. Without lips, a tongue, or teeth, Conner was shocked to feel the tip of his new appendage rubbing over a pile of rotting food, as though tasting it. Without warning, a viscous fluid, different from the one he injected into his former landlady, erupted from the three-pronged tips and sprayed all over the food, the prehensile tips rubbing it over as it started to sizzle and pop. It seemed as though the greasy refuse was being dissolved by whatever solution his body was prompted to produce. And the scent molecules the fluid left were powerfully appetizing, even more so than the initial odor that had spurred his attention in the first place.

That human, disgusted part of him was thankful his gag reflex was all but removed as those slathering tips separated to allow a series of small protrusions to touch the surface of the slurry, sucking it up like some sort of vacuum. Conner was at least thankful they did not have any sense of taste, outside what his antenna was providing. Still, the altering fringes of his mind found the action almost as pleasant as implanting those internal fluids into the poor woman. His saliva was enough to rapidly dissolve vast quantities of garbage, bags, and plastics all into the ooze that was then ingested to fuel his form. As far as he could tell, Conner was no worse for wear from consuming a substance that would have killed the human him, but it was a moot point in the end as he had such limited control over his bodily functions.

To his dismay, the feeding act seemed to be having an unwelcome effect on his physiology, as though fueling further changes. The tingling of skin altering was now familiar and seeming to spread in real time across the remnant bare patches of his human flesh. The prickling of hairs started to erupt all over this new chitinous armor, a firm covering that should have restricted his movements, though articulations within the insectoid skin formed around his shoulders and hips, pushing painlessly at the flesh and creating small indents within. It was a little awkward to move in such a state, but Conner managed, needing to adjust himself several times as he ate the contents of the garbage bin.

The most prominent change, perhaps, was a resonating popping from the protrusions on his back, as something long and impossibly thin unfurled from within with a light spray of blood and pus. He could not interpret what they were, though given insect anatomy, the idea they were the start of wings was not out of the realm of possibility. It was bizarre to the still-human parts of his mind, though nothing he bothered to care about further as he continued to eat, draining the contents of the bin as his hunger was finally sated.

The only thing to distract him from his feeding was the vibrations from another scream, and Conner reflexively looked up to see a man, disheveled and stunted. Conner assumed it was a homeless person, someone who was likely currently intoxicated. It mattered little as to the man's state, especially since he was in no position to run away. Conner immediately felt that same need as he had with Camilla, to the point he had no resistance to the instincts in his mind. So long as an iota of that previous desire appealed to the human he was, there was no denying the impulse, not caring about what would happen to his 'victim'. Part of him felt it would be better this way; not only was he giving in to a primal urge, but he was passing on his 'gift' to someone else. It was a truth that went beyond any human understanding, and any remnant guilt he felt about forcing himself on someone else was lost in that moment of desire as he moved forward with the speed and power his reenergized body possessed.

It took little with now stronger insectoid arms to hold the poor man in place as he reached forward with his prehensile proboscis. Quickly shoving the appendage down the man's throat Conner felt the center section open before injecting whatever seed his new anatomy was able to produce. It sent that same quiver of lust through his frame to the point he felt he could cum without sex organs. It was just as pleasant, just as fulfilling as anything he could imagine from his humanity. Worse, it made him long to do it as many times as it took to sate the itch that was pushing his psyche aside for the primal urges of his new body.

His purpose served, Conner let the man fall to undergo the same changes that altered Conner's own body. The scent molecules his antenna detected told Conner all he needed to know that the man was infected, and his desire to spread his influence prompted him to move to find the next. Now that his bloated belly had been satiated, there was no greater desire in his diminishing being for him to pursue. Even the man's pained gagging from the forceful assault was not enough to deter Conner's desire for that same sexual ecstasy he had been granted from these last few interactions.

As he moved his way into the next alley, one of his nails caught on the side of a building, nearly pulled off and leaking a clear, sticky fluid rather than the blood that should be oozing from the wound. He cared little about it, unaware that much of his blood had already been replaced by a more simplistic hemolymph. The fingers themselves were weak, and the more he tried to move them, the more the snaps and pops within the joints made him sure that they were to fall off at any moment. He could hardly bring himself to care about such anymore, more eager to see where the changes led him and if they could aid in granting him more of that exquisite pleasure he held in such reverence.

Without warning, his hands started to violently shake, and Conner stopped for a moment as what looked like three sets of massive black talons burst through two of his fingers and thumb on each hand at once, showering his black skin with a spray of fluids. Moving them slightly, Conner was a little surprised with how sticky they were, barely more mobile than the ones on the sides of his body. Though he could hardly feel through them, it seemed they were covered with thousands of minute hairs, which in tandem with his massive claws would allow him to grip almost any surface. Yet, he was more eager for what they could do to help grip his prey and send those delightedly orgasmic tremors through his being as he injected targets with his seed, his gift.

'

But for the moment, the hunger eating away at him seemed to return once more, in either a bid to complete the changes or rather to fuel him to infect more of the humans around. Any morality over doing such things to human victims was but a drop in the bucket to the pleasure he received from infecting others, and the certainty he was giving them the same ecstasy when they, too, changed to become like him. In the end, it mattered little, given the intense needs that he could scarcely keep at bay, even if he was inclined to. And with that ultimate goal in mind, he moved to a new series of dumpsters, proboscis oozing its acidic fluids to prepare him to consume their entire contents before looking for more humans to share his essence with...

Camilla, too, was in the throws of feeding, spitting her acidic fluids over all the refuse in Conner's former apartment and sucking it up in a way that made her wish to vomit. She had no way to do so, save for bringing up more of the noxious sludge she was using to feed. It seemed like whatever had replaced her tongue had a mind of its own, sucking up the dissolved goo like a straw as the pangs in her boating belly were finally abated. It was disgusting, especially as it seemed to cause her hair to fall out around her, and her teeth to loosen from her gums. Worse of all, perhaps, was the bloating in her gut and ass, focusing on her sex and making it leak to the point she wanted to touch herself. Yet, something within her mind told her such would not be sufficient and that she needed something else to...what?

The more she ate, the more the disgusting changes played over her form, altering her shape into what was likely matching her assailant, though she had not gotten a good enough view of him to confirm such. Still, the massive welts on her sides and back expanded to the point she had to remove her blouse from the irritation, a sign she was growing something powerfully inhuman. Blackened, chitinous skin was spreading all over, peppered with thick hairs that vibrated with every breeze. It soon spread over her bald scalp as well, making her thankful there was no mirror to witness the horrific changes that were encroaching over her skin.

The sound of a phone ringing was enough to bring her from her feeding frenzy, though it was much louder and more annoying to her than any sound had the right to be. The human part of her recalled she had been in the apartment for some time, giving her husband reason to call. And though she had no inclination to answer the phone herself, that realization prompted her to return to her home, and introduce him to her new self. A quivering in her sex was all she needed to confirm it was the proper action, not only acceptable but desirable in a way that defied her previous humanity...

Marty, too, was now buzzing around dumpster bins, soon after rousing and realizing his bloated gut was begging for food. No stranger to dumpster diving, he was rather more inclined to use his new, massive proboscis to eject his saliva onto his food, with weakened teeth and mushy jaws unable to eat the way he was accustomed. The previous high he had been on was eradicated, leaving him certain the fly monster that had infected him was real and not a figment of the drugs that had taken over his life. As much as he should have been disgusted by what had replaced his tongue, there was no denying it was giving him the ability to feed in a more satisfying way that the man had not known in years. With this ability, he would never go hungry again!

"Hey, Marty?" A familiar voice called out, though Marty was too distracted to really respond to it. However, something in his groin seemed to stir to life, a feeling of lust and desire that he had not allowed himself to experience in quite some time. Whether it be the presence of his acquaintances or something he did not quite comprehend, Marty felt his cock preparing to unload its burden into his pants. And with a shiver, his penis did just that, though with far less pleasure than he felt there should be. But that was not what he truly sought...

Marty stood up, staring at two of his former friends with hollow eyes and a quivering mouth, proboscis swaying in the air as though waiting for them to make a move. The excitement in his body was palpable, to the point he felt he could leap through the air and pounce on one of the men, wanting to...what? The memories of his own infection were fresh in his mind, and despite the bizarre sensation of his penis inverting within his fluid-soaked pants, his sexual excitement was at its apex. Without giving the two men a notion of what he was about to do, Marty leaped into the air, landing on one of the men and knocking him to the ground, stunned and winded. Trying to call out, he could elicit little more than a moan before Marty's new organ shoved its way into the man's mouth, loins quivering in excitement about what was to come.

The other man lay there stunned, unable to get away from his own intoxication and not even sure the scene he was witnessing was true. He could not bring himself to rise to his feet as his friend was gripped by the appendages bursting from the creature's side, holding him in place as he face fucked the poor man. It didn't even pass his thoughts that he might be next, tripping so hard he thought it best to stay still, though such was soon to be his detriment.

Marty, for his part, felt a significant sensation of ecstasy in the act, not caring what he was doing to his former fellows and able to hold the first down without moral regard. He forgot the man's name in his moment of frenzy, though it mattered little in the bliss afforded him by infecting another. His proboscis quivered as it injected thick globs of spittle within the man's gullet, enough so whatever force had altered him would do the same. And Marty was eager to do so, to spread his condition and the sexual elation to follow...

Pulsating eagerly, the force of rapid growth in his ass tore the back of his pants, anus dripping a bizarre sticky fluid the likes of which could not have been produced by a human. It quivered with ecstasy as he pulled his proboscis out of the man, looking at the new protrusion with eagerness. Far different than its human equivalent, it was thick, covered with hardened chitin and thick hairs, rapidly expanding larger than his pants could contain. He wasn't sure, but the pulsating from his anus and his genitals were now emanating from the same place. With the sheer size of the thing, Marty found he had to bend his legs to waddle forward, though his next target was not far. Proboscis pulsating, Marty cared only about the throbbing in his abdomen and the sexual excitement he would feel in infecting another...

Conner, meanwhile, was several blocks away by now, eager to feed and not encountering anyone new to infect at the moment. His changes were perhaps slower than those of his contemporaries, but that mattered little to him. Nor was the fact he had robbed the humanity from several people, something that might have once shamed him but was now too pleasurable an act for him to deny himself. Besides, if he was spreading the gift to them, making them experience the same euphoria as he did...why weren't more people actively seeking him out? Surely, they would, eventually...

Lost in his feeding frenzy, Conner barely noticed the two wet appendages on his back as they started to flutter, sending intense vibrations through his antennae and allowing him to rise slightly. He was barely able to truly relish the power of flight, his body too heavy for it, at least, for now. He was smaller, certainly, his abdomen indented and covered completely with insectoid chitin, allowing his arms to articulate but only just. Shoulders still persisted, though barely, as well as his hips. The sheer size of his ass-turned abdomen made walking bowlegged, but he was able to manage it, moving from dumpster to trash heap and eating his fill.

The changes were more than superficial, though Conner hardly had the cognizance to really comprehend what was happening to him. It was likely his bones, his blood, and internal organs were dissolved by the potent acids swelling in his gullet, though somehow, he was alive and functioning with whatever simplistic insectoid systems persisted. He wasn't even breathing any longer; the bridge of his nose and nostrils was gone entirely, and his stationary chest was a sign of his lack of respiration. He might have been taking in air through minute spiracles in the chitin but it was impossible to be sure, or even muster the mental energy to care.

Now, it was his eyes that were watering, as though bulging out against his head. They had swollen so massive to the point Conner could almost see each other from the perspective of the other. The ache within them steadily grew worse, almost as though blood vessels were popping and making eyesight as he knew it all but impossible. With the potency of his antennae, there was little need for his human sight, though it was a moot point with how much they were irritated by their transition. It was getting to the point where he desired to rub them, though was a little worried about damaging their membranes with his new claws. So he allowed the pressure to continue to expand, wondering if they were to burst from his head, though hardly thinking that to be the most drastic thing to happen to him in the last several days.

Eventually, the pain grew to its apex, though Conner's ability to feel such agony was steadily diminished by the lack of sensors in his skin. He couldn't even bring himself to care any longer, preoccupied by his proboscis sucking up its nutrients as it was. It was still a mild shock when the changes caused him to go blind for a moment, and reflexively trying to blink made him aware there was no longer an ability to do so. When his vision finally turned back on, like a TV suddenly getting a signal, Conner was momentarily startled that his view of the world was split into several screens, each comprising an entire image. They were massive, too, like a pair of domes sticking out from the sides of his head. The colors of the world were far more vibrant than anything the human him had ever known, but it was hard to discern the images while viewing them from thousands of individual angles. Stranger still was the unexpected development of several smaller eyes, though their ability to detect light was minute compared with his overall sensory inputs, and hardly enough to deter from the instincts forcing him to feed.

Yet, it was the sensation of his abdomen tearing off the remnants of his pants and swelling to the point it almost touched the ground, that took all of Conner's attention. The entire thing was pulsating, sending orgasmic waves through his form as it added inch after inch of width. It should have been heavy on his frame, especially as the center of his former waist narrowed. But the hardened chitin around his body was more than firm enough to prevent his body from falling apart. The pulsating tip of the growth, comprised of several plates interlocking against each other, allowed it to rub against sensually whatever persisted inside. It was as though his anus and genitals had fused somehow, though he could hardly find fault with it, or any of the changes, for that matter. He was not there yet, and still needed to change, feed, and to...

******

A strange knocking at the door after a series of missed calls left Ralph horribly concerned. His wife had been gone some 24 hours now, and there was every chance there was bad news at the other side of the door. Still, there was no putting it off, and he shuffled his way to the door, not sure how he would react in the worst-case scenario.

Yet, nothing could have prepared him for the horror awaiting beyond the hallway. A massive, bug-eyed being was towering over someone in the hall, extending a growth from its head and trying to shove it down his throat. With extra arms, wings, and a massive, fat ass, it looked for all the world like a giant fly monster, something that existed more in the world of fantasy than reality. Mouth agape, Ralph could not bring himself to shut the door fast enough, caught staring at the horrific sight like a train wreck.

Something else about the creature soon had his attention, aside from its monstrous visage. Its clothes, shoes, and blouse, while clinging haphazardly to its body, were familiar, something he was sure his wife had worn prior. Was it...could it be...then what the hell had happened...?!

Ralph's brief hesitation was to be his downfall. The creature, hearing his gasp, quickly turned around and leaped on him with a frantic buzzing as its powerful arms held him roughly against the wall. There was no getting away from its grasp as its thickened claws dug into his skin, drawing blood. Ralph went to scream, to call out his wife's name, but the moment he did so was the moment her new proboscis shoved down his gullet and injected thick wads of infectious saliva, damning him to the same insectoid fate. His last thoughts were wondering if there was any humanity left in the mind of the creature that had likely once been his wife. But it did not matter overall. Moaning, all he heard was an intense buzzing as his mind went out, to wake sometime later with a hunger for garbage and the desire to infect as many humans as possible...

It was only an hour later when the formerly married couple and their first conquests were actively scouring the building looking for more victims. It seemed as though the fly creatures were changing faster with each generation, as the few who had been infected within the apartment complex were already strong enough to break through doors some moments after awakening. A few people in the building were able to get away, seeing the creatures occupied in the process of infecting others. The rest were either trapped in their homes or currently on the ground as the infection tore through their blood and prepared them for a descent into an insectoid existence, compelled to eat and spread their disease to all the uninfected.

Some hours later, the changes to those in the building were sufficient they were able to fly, hovering in the air as they discovered a new form of locomotion unknown to the former human hosts. Something persisted of their human minds, though only enough to revel in the sexual ecstasy of their beings as they ate and infected others, following the simpler compulsions of their diminished insectoid beings. Their waving antennae were on the lookout for piles of garbage or refuse, and those that were full were seeking any humans left uncontaminated. By this hour, most people were within their homes, though windows were hardly a deterrent to the determined insects, breaking through and pulling their sleeping victims out into the night to join their ranks.

Though the rest of his insectoid brethren were experiencing more rapid changes, Conner, the original vector, was nearly transformed himself. His limbs had cracked in several paces, shoulders compressing as the last vestiges of bones were dissolved within his thorax, leaving his chitinous outer shell to keep him protected. His legs, too, had met a similar fate, though Conner only keeled over for a few moments before his wings picked up the slack and he was able to hover, antennae able to detect vibrations and scent molecules from a wider spectrum than ever before. His new claws, while barely motile, were enough to squeeze into the flesh of potential prey before they, too, were infected by his seeking proboscis.

Though much of his cognizance had been robbed from him, Conner retained enough to know what he had been and to enjoy all that he had become. Any disgust he felt for the form was long gone, and he needed to do what he did in order to survive and propagate. Yet, now it was the continued quivering in his abdomen he craved, one that was growing in intensity with each person he infected. It was as though their essence was mingling with him each time, preparing his insides for the dissension of something brewing within. And now that he was entirely changed, it was almost time.

Ready and full, from both his bloated belly and that sensual spot near the apex of his loins, Conner found himself looking for another pile of garbage, though this time it was not for him. He was following a primal compulsion that went beyond even any need to feed and spread his essence, as though what roiled within his loins now took precedence. Instincts told him a similar garbage pile was exactly what he needed for this next stage of life, to pass on what was within him in safety and security.

Squatting over the spot, Conner's excitement translated into an intense quivering through his loins as something started to push downward, stimulating every inch of his sensitive insides and making him buzz in frantic ecstasy. It was a little large in comparison with his insides, though he managed it, the added pressure raising his elation. It was like relieving himself and orgasming in tandem, feeling more pleasure from the act both physically and psychologically. What little remained of Conner's mind was whited out as the white tip of an oval sphere crowned his opening and forced the various plates apart, oozing translucent goo to help ease its transition.

With a buzz of ecstasy, what could only be an egg was expelled from his insectoid abdomen, followed by a pressure that signaled the dissension of several more. His bugling guts seemed full of them, swelling in rapid succession as they prepared to be birthed from his backside. The being he had become was in rapture, its biological directive being fulfilled to the point that no achievement in human life or the next could match such satisfaction. And with the bloating in his innards, Conner knew there was much more progeny to come, each as nearly orgasmic to lay as the last. And then he could finally, truly rest...

******

There were dozens at the windows now, likely a small portion of those infected in the city, though Delores was only guessing at this point. Seeing the beings in the alleyway was bizarre enough, massive, fly-like creatures that should not have existed in this plane of existence. But it was their infectious nature, Delores witnessing several people on the streets being grabbed and injected and starting to rapidly devolve into insectoid creatures themselves, that had Delores truly scared. With the speed they were proliferating, there were surely many more, and soon to be exponentially so as the hours passed. Yet, even the bizarre nature of the creatures and their ability to change human bodies was not totally out of the realm of her experience, and it soon came to her realization that it was perhaps her own hand that had conjured this chaos.

With what little time she had before the creatures thought to break in, Delores consulted her books, trying to find the spell she had cast on that repugnant passerby. Without his direct presence, the spell did not readily present itself, and so Delores was left scrounging the books as the cracks of glass drew ever sharper, as though the creatures were sensing her effects and were desperate to get in and stop the one threat to their existence. Delores was sure no one else would be able to reverse it, and that the consequences of such for the human race were unthinkable.

It was a sharp shatter of glass that drew her attention up and to the book with the proper incantation. Ignoring the insects, knowing there was nothing she could do about their presence without the spell, she reached for the book, her urgency sensed by the magic. The tome immediately opened to the proper page, and Delores stared it over for what felt like an eternity with the danger coming at any moment. Yet, no matter how much she scanned the pages, there was no obvious reversal for such a vengeful punishment. She was supposed to turn the man into a fly, a simple insect with a two-week lifespan, not a fly monster capable of spreading his condition like a disease until the entire city was infected. And there was no reason why it should have backfired as it had, save it being a case of her ire and rage being too great over the man's drunken state.

With that in mind, the only solution that came to mind was to cast the spell again, preferably on the man who had been her initial target. But without a way to know which was him, she had no choice but to add a conduit to the spell, hoping it would travel through everyone that had been infected. Not sure it was much better than death, and thinking most of the victims were undeserving, there was still little choice but to cast it, ignoring the sounds of buzzing as more of the glass broke and the putrid stench of the creatures wafted into her nose. There was no time to look out for the multiple hands that reached out and grabbed her, holding her and preparing to shove a proboscis down her throat before making her one of them. She needed to say the words even when every instinct told her to try to close her mouth to avoid the dripping appendage seeking for her gullet. Needed to get the last word out before...

A pained buzz resonated through her body as the creature holding her let go all of a sudden, moving back in a flash of light before falling to the ground, as though dead. It was still twitching, like a dead fly, though it seemed not to have the energy to stand again, let alone attack her. Though she was still afraid of it, Delores was sure her spell had worked, the only cause of the being's current state.

Just now thinking to look beyond the insect that had assaulted her, Delores was suddenly hit with a series of pained buzzing, as though dozens of the creatures were calling out in the same tone at once. For as far as she could see, the creatures were writhing, pained, and unable to get up as her cast worked its way through each of them. They seemed stunned, some falling from buildings or the air, some keeled over before landing prone, unable to get up, likely ever again in their current state. And, all of them were starting to shrink...

The frantic sounds of buzzing echoed in her ears as a series of wet cracks and pops resonated through their bodies. Violently, their exoskeletons were pulled in on themselves, tearing their flesh like paper. Bits of muscle and tendons were ripped apart and turned to dust as what remained was pulled inside them with pints of hemolytic ooze dripping onto the floor. Delores had no idea if such was painful to what remained of the creatures, but she could not bring herself to care, knowing what would have happened to her had she not completed her incantation.

It seemed to take an impossibly long time for the beings to shrink, their wings falling out and smaller ones bursting forth, limbs cracking into bizarre shapes as what had to be internal organs sloshed out, only to be replaced as the chitin sealed up before breaking again. It was horrific, likely painful, and happening at such a rate she wished the spell was instantaneous if only for their behalf.

Soon, the buzzing diminished to the sound of common flies as they continued to shrink to their proper insectoid statures. Delores was sure she could hear the buzz of human words, something akin to "Help me!" though there was every chance she was simply imagining things. The things were buzzing around now, undergoing the final changes as their limbs situated underneath them and they hovered there, looking no more like the annoying flies they had become. She was terrified of what she had to do and what she had seen, but at least, it was over now.

The sensation of a fly landing on her arm made Delores scream and she reflexively swatted it, feeling the body connect with her hand and ending the fly's life. It was likely one of the transformed, and though she had no way of knowing if they were still infectious in their feral state, she still felt guilt over her reflexive action. She didn't want to kill any of them, if she could help it, but then again, was it really any better a life for the mere days they had left, rather than ending it here? It was not something she wanted to think about as she moved to sweep up the broken glass as a form of distraction.

In the early morning light, it was almost impossible for her to see the dozens or so flies that were taking wing, all human intellect and reason washed from their minds, fly brains too small to hold such thoughts. There was really no difference between them and the flies still buzzing in the untouched garbage bins, in the end. Delores didn't want that to be their fate, and a tear rolled down her cheek for the lives lost. But even though it was her fault, intentions aside, there was nothing she could do for them, and they were doomed for a brief existence as flies before expiring. Better for all those uninfected, who were destined for the same repulsive fate if she'd done nothing or a war between the creatures and the remnants of humanity. Something that would have been Delores's fault, and leaving her reason not to touch her books again, at least for some time...

Somewhere in the city, Conner's resting started to vibrate violently, shaking as though electrocuted. In his post-laying contentment, he barely had cause to think about what was happening, only discomforted by the sensation but carrying no fear of the future. After all, he had technically achieved it all, and any continuation of his life was simply a bonus, body not ready to perish just yet.

Still, it did not substitute for the pain of his body crunching, caving in on itself as he cried out in his wailing buzz. His antennae picked up similar cries of pain from his brethren, though he hardly had the ability to follow the cacophony of vibrations all around him. His own buzzing increased in intensity, unable to move and felt powerfully vulnerable besides. His body was paralyzed, and he reflexively tried to get away, unable to conceive of what was happening and unable to escape the pain.

With the force of his body being sucked downward, his outer exoskeleton burst open in several places, spilling organs and hemolymph everywhere before it healed over to cover his now-smaller body. Each second caused an agonizing tearing and bursting of chitin, fluids oozing down his body and dripping on the ground as his wings loosened from his back and his limbs popped off from the pressure, falling and dissolving to the ground and preventing him from moving. Thankfully, his abdomen had purged itself of eggs, though any would have been crushed by the force of his compressing body.

Little mental capacity persisted to be aware of the changes, though Conner was vaguely able to perceive a dizzying sensation through his compound eyes, the facets revealing altering contours of the world every few seconds. Eventually, the eyes popped with a spray of fluid, though some of the facets persisted enough to regenerate the eyes in their new form before compressing further. The rapid onset of change should have killed him, but insects took longer to fade than most species, and the rapid regeneration left no time for him to die, as merciful as it might have been. Still, thinking he was dying, Conner tried to buzz and fly frantically to the point he was able to roll over, hardly enough to get away from what was happening in his own body and unable to escape the inevitable death of self.

As his brain collapsed and ruptured for the last time, any semblance of the human Conner died with it, all that remained in the mush were fly instincts to survive.The panic over what was happening faded, bouncing back and forth between death and life and forgetting each instance as it happened. It was perhaps a more merciful death than his body's rapid deterioration and renewal, though no one was around to feel that way as he was reduced to nothing more than a buzzing insect.

Still, the need to mate persisted, and having laid eggs already, the fly that had replaced Conner was biologically female. Soon, the female lighted on a glass wall, spreading her pheromones as a male approached, landing on her back and spearing for her opening with an insectoid ovipositor. The insect that had been the original intended victim to live as a fly could not have known his would-be mate was one of his victims, still maintaining male genitalia. It mattered little with that persistent need to propagate, be inseminated, and lay more progeny. There was some feeling of pleasure as a small quality of semen was injected within her, but it was soon forgotten as she moved toward another source of garbage and refuse to lay her eggs.

All over the city, those dozens of infected were all reduced to mere buzzing insects, even the most recently infected that had not fully turned into dipteran hybrids. Perhaps they suffered the worst fate, enough of their human minds persisting to be aware of what was happening before it was too late and their identities died with their devolving brains. For some, it was a blissful sort of death, not wanting to garbage-eating fly monsters and still carrying the last vestiges of resistance to that eventual fate before the pleasures in their abdomens pushed them over the edge. For the others, it mattered little, minds already awash in dipteran desires as they lost what little ability they had to rationalize in human terms.

With the dawn, all the fly monsters were gone, and the city was able to move on, despite the horror that had been but a few hours from destroying it all. Yet, that peace was only to be surface level. One thing even Delores could not have known, as her spell seemed to eradicate all of those who had been infected by Conner's blood. But, part of his essence remained, free from his body and untouched by the spell. He was the only one who had laid progeny in his fully transformed state. And, if left to their own devices, soon, the eggs would grow and hatch and feed, preparing for the next generation...