Parasite T-29759
Story based on nken's http://www.furaffinity.net/view/4541253
Reminiscence
How long had it been since the war? Since the academy really? Chris wasn't sure, but what he did know was that he, like many of the soldiers who had come back alive, and mentally stable, were out of work, out of luck and out of patience with the government. Though Chris did have to admit that he had faired a lot better than many men who had come before him and gone after, he still felt enough disdain for the way things were that he felt a pressing need to do something more than drown his resentment out in a half bottle full of beer in the rustic little town he had fled to just to get away from the world.
Thinking back about the time when he had been younger and full of life and desire to exert his rampant energies out onto the field of war for honor and glory, Chris realized that during the last year of his twenty-five years at life, he had become such a bitter and angry old man, just in time to take a large swallow of bitter amber liquid into his mouth and recount the days that had gone by.
When he had been in the academy training to be a soldier for his country, Chris, like many others his age, had been hopeful and vigilant in their belief that they could change the world and make it a safer place for their family and friends. They had worked hard. Trained harder than anyone else and been degraded worse than any whipped dog just to get to a place where he could stand tall and wear a uniform that made him feel self-important amongst the rest of the cadets of his squad. And yet, not one of them was prepared for the reality of what warfare really was like.
Nothing, from their times in the fields together shooting down holographic targets and getting hammered in return by artificial laser fire against double padded chest plates and arm guards, could compare to actually seeing a person you had known for several years getting his head blown off six feet from you while still standing in place like an immovable statue. It had been so horribly realistic that many had spilt what little they had in their stomachs when they were first engaged in battle while others lost parts of their sanity from the resulting carnage that came later. Their commanding officer had been one of the few of the more fortunate to lose his life when an ambush had come minutes later, leaving the rest of his young team to fend for themselves in what was supposed to have been a simple excursion out on a non-hostile environment.
Some of the cadets had gone mad when arcs of fiery light rained down on them from their vantage point, choosing to abandon their friends to save themselves. Those that weren't taken out disappeared altogether into the distance to leave the others to their fates, maybe to someplace where the concept of war didn't exist if they ran far enough away or maybe they found a deep enough ditch to crawl into and huddle up until delirium and insanity finally pulled them into oblivion's grip.
For Chris Redfield however, he was one of the luckier ones, if you could call taking the reign of the battle and getting his group out of the pincer they had found while shouting orders and herding those around him to some place where they could have enough cover to buckle down and call for reinforcements, or for immediate evacuation while waiting several days on nothing more than adrenaline, plant life and a few kills when they had found a abandoned settlement to take roost in while fighting back against the enemy pinning them down, making it out alive while having to play a life or death gamble with every second of his life, lucky. The young man of twenty-three had found his resolve forged on the field of blood and gore and was able to herald some of his comrades into the arms of safety long enough to survive their first of several encounters with the creatures they had been fighting.
The Invaders, that's what the government called them. To Chris and the others, they were the walking Death in the forms of black silicone like suits laying suppressing fire on them with weapons that they had never seen before, but learned to fear every day of their war torn lives. The building they had been using had taken so much punishment from the onslaught of blasts that the team was forced to retreat to someplace else in smaller groups while countering as best they could with the laser weapons and their diminishing power sources.
Unlike the movies would have them believe, none of the young men were expecting some saving grace to come from one of them in the form of some spectacular plan by their team leader as he made some daring maneuver that would lead them out of the shitstorm they had found themselves in some days after their change in position. Chris was too scared to even try to formulate some kind of grandeurs plan in his frantic mind as every sense was honed on trying to think up some kind of way that they could all make it out of there on the limited number of weapons at their disposal. Thankfully, laser weaponry could be recharged if tinkered with enough, and one of the guys had been able to modify several rifles to use the spare power in the others to fully charge those of the point men who were keeping watch while the other tried to find whatever they could to fight back within the buildings when they went on nightly scavenger hunts.
It took several more days, their radios having been used every second of every hour to try and call for help from headquarters, before the end of the conflict came about and rescue appeared. In the end, their saving grace found the fourteen still living men who had trained together with the manifestation of a new kind of weapon that scientist had cooked up in their laboratories. Though Chris and the others had been liberated from their personal hellhole, shipped back home and debriefed with a clear warning not to mention anything of what they had seen on the battlefield with a threat of treason hanging over their heads and a very long sentence to a facility so remote and foreign that the commander had a hard time pronouncing the name of it, the young men would never forget what they had seen and would engrave it onto their memories for the rest of their lives. Many of them questioning when the world had gone to hell and their lives turned into a bad science fiction novella.
However, as with every kind of event in life, that time passed and the men were released back out into the world they had left; both estranged from their fellow citizens and alienated from the reality that they had chosen to defend so hard. The people at home seemed to regard them as some kind of strange new life form, as many of the young men were hardened in a way that set them apart from every other person around them. Some of them took to the bottle to release their fears and doubts, others were blessed enough to find work doing whatever they could to survive while some just lingered on like phantoms with no place to call home anymore, family having put them out when their timeworn actions of acting so insecure of themselves and their surroundings finally made patience wear thin.
Chris though, was still the luckiest of them all. He was able to find him a place working with old fashion gun and ammo weapons in a remote shop up north and settled down for a half decent life. That was, until he and many of them others had come back together a year later to remember things that would be happier to forget near the new fort where many new recruits were being trained and given secular kind of knowledge that had skipped over his generation of cadets.
It was looking at this and talking amongst themselves that the rising ire of disdain for the world began to grow inside of Chris and the others like a disease before thoughts became words which would lead to arguments and altercations that would disperse the group of men. Amongst them, several had eyes filled with hate and bubbling vengeance in their hearts while others grew so despondent with the structured order of things that they made plans to act out their frustrations in ways that would lead them down paths that would turn them against the very government they had served so fleeting before.
On returning back to the place he now called home, Chris, one of the more bitter figures, found his absolution when he had been drinking in a bar one night, or rather afterwards when he had been walking down the street sometime after midnight. He never knew what hit him exactly, it wasn't physical but neurological as he found his body seizing up without his command and then hands grabbing hold of him and hauling him away into the dark interior of a nondescript vehicle which he guessed to be a large van of some kind. No one would think twice at seeing the four wheel machine plowing down the road so late at night at a speed that was less than perceptible as tires crunched onto the concrete and sped off into the distance.
At that hour, no one would notice anything, save for the one or two other drunks or homeless persons who would be passed by during morning as less than noticeable themselves. For Chris though, every second was filled with sensations but not a drop of light as his body was manhandled like some piece of play dough while words, unintelligible at best, passed through his range of hearing and sharp spikes of pain cut through his skin into his veins as if searching for something.
Being familiar with the mistress known as despair from his time in the war, Chris was able to control his body enough to take shallow breaths and not alert the people holding him to realize that he was, just barely, aware of almost everything happening to him. The punctures continued followed by marks being drawn over his skin and something reminiscent of cold gel being slathered underneath the clothes he had been wearing, a white muscle shirt that was two times too small for his muscular frame and a pair of faded black running pants that had seen better days, where the needle marks he was sure to have would have been present.
The touches were light, but insistent as Chris felt a plethora of fingers ghosting and prodding at his sides, neck and shoulders on down to his chest, belly and groin, taking note when two particular hands seemed to linger too long for his taste. Flipped over like a fish on a spit, Chris laid motionless with eyes shut leisurely as he rolled his brown orbs around while feeling more and more hands on him. He wasn't sure which way was up nor which way he felt like he was drifting, but what he was aware of was when the long ride had come to a stop and his large frame was greeted by the cold night air of autumn as a door opened and he was hauled out onto his feet and made to walk, even though his entire body felt boneless from whatever he had been injected with.
Into darkness he was half dragged and then thrown into light, Chris tried to turn his head to see where he was but his eyes were still useless to him. His nose however, worked just fine, especially when the scent of disinfectants, body odor, and sterile cleaners intermingled in his nostrils. Walking forward for minutes on end, Chris was taken to a room at the end of his journey and then dumped unceremoniously onto hard tiles and then shut into the darkness where his mind soon began to gather strange thoughts and even stranger fantasies.
Time had little meaning for Chris as his body worked to purge whatever foreign agent was in his system, paralyzing his normal working parameters. It could have been hours and it could have been days or minutes, but all Chris did know was that when he was finally able to correct himself enough to splay out onto the floor on his back, and get the cotton out of his mouth with several hacking coughs, he had to piss like a racehorse. Pride made him turn onto his side and moving his hands with as much dexterity as he could muster, Chris slipped as much of the rim of his pants down as he could and then angled his half hard penis as he could away from himself before letting himself go. The flow of his urine came out in a hard stream and as the seconds passed by he noted that he felt better from the purge of liquid to mentally verify every bodily function inside of his body until he was able to groan and realize that he was in enough pain to make him blackout.
When he returned to consciousness Chris found himself blinking and able to moan in frustration as he was able to get up from off of his aching side onto all fours and then shake away his rising fatigue like a dog loosening himself of a pelt of water. The smell of urine hit him like a punch into the face, sour and pungent from lingering in place too long, Chris turned and noted that though the darkness around him blinded him, his sense of smell was as strong as ever and that his lower pants leg felt wet for a reason he didn't want to appreciate at the moment.
Grunting from the feeling of humiliation at letting his watery waste touch him as if he were some kind of feral miscreant, Chris decided to ignore his state of being for the moment to assess where his current position was, and just how much control he had over the situation before anything else happened to take what little power he had over his predicament away from himself. Shakily getting up on legs too weak to support his full weight, Chris hobbled like a lame over to a far wall and then back until he found himself bumping face first into an unseen barrier.
Counting back each step and finding that he was in a twelve foot long room, Chris cursed himself for going against his first mind and staying to instead drown his boredom for the night in beer before he shook his head and realized that whoever had kidnapped him could just as easily taken him from his small living area just above the weapon shop he worked if they had really wanted him so badly. Settling down onto the ground, far enough away from the puddle like stain he had made; Chris sat down cross-legged and then began to recite his name, birth date and social security number over and over into his head like a mantra.
His words were whispered enough for only him to hear what was being said in the darkness and as the echoes bumped across his ears again and again Chris lost himself in his words as the front of his brain began to rapid-fire with ideas about why, who and what he had been taken for. Ideas about his feelings on the government and their doctrine of handling warfare passed through his brain fleetingly before he locked them away with his memories of distant times in high school. Whatever was going on was bigger than what he had to say and think about the managing branch of the central control of the country...whatever was going on had to do with him on some personal level. There was nothing else that made since to him as he thought about what other kind of enemy he could have made to warrant his current situation.
On the random note that maybe he had been captured by the Invaders, Chris stopping himself from thinking about this too long because of firsthand knowledge that his former enemies didn't take captives, taking on a kill-on-sight mandate that made them the scorn of the world they imposed upon for their empty hearted cruelty, Chris didn't have another rational thought about what he could have abducted him.
Maybe it had to do with something particular to his body, but Chris drew up a blank as he thought over and over about what could have been so special about him. He was an average male, in his opinion for being a former military man, and didn't recall any reason that he would be necessary for all the cloak and dagger antics that seemed to be taking up the vast majority of his evening. The why and who were sketchy to his weary mind but the conclusions pointed to a branch of the military that specialized in making what he had seen back in the war. There had been rumors running around the interweb board for decades that the government gave a nod to the use of genetically alter soldiers, but it was always taken for granted because of the patriot belief system that ran deep into the souls of most of the people.
Who'd really want to believe that the very people that were supposed to protect them were in actuality using them for fodder to boost their own agendas while using the name of justice and diplomacy as their shields in the public eye? The conspiracy fanatics had always raved that this is what the government really allowed to happen and even sanctioned, but those kinds of people came with every era and after a while you learned that not every wisp of smoke meant that the forest was on fire.
However, maybe that was exactly what those in power were counting on...that the people around them would become so complacent that they would stop looking for the monster under the bed until that monster was strong enough to come out into the light of day. The worst enemy always lay within the self, as Chris had been told once when he had been back in the academy hauling a thirty pound bag on his back like some kind of slave, and complacency was the best weapon that enemy had to use on its opponent. Being taught to look at everything, both inside and out, and judge them with a critical eye had saved him and his men back then in the war, how satirical that it was the disregard for this simple piece of skill that found him where he was now.
How easy it was to take everything you suspect for a grain of salt until it smacked you dead into the face and as Chris found a cornerstone of light drawing upon his still form, he wished he had paid attention more. A fleeting hope in his heart rested with the fact that he hoped that he would live to regret his actions, to live through the hell of war only to die in times of peace would wound his soul deep enough that he would curse the world around him ten times over, if he died now.
Several bodies waltzed in on him, no one bothering to ask questions or give anything like an explanation, most of the people being fitted from head to toe in hazmat suits and breathing through loose fitting breathing apparatuses as two large figures went over to Chris' sitting form and hauled his still weakened body up like a piece of drift wood. Still repeating his litany, Chris made note of every twist and turn that was made by the people who were taking control of him as he was made to walk out of the room he had been in, before he once again found himself being taken to an empty enclosure, this one filled with white padding on the walls and an empty drain on the floor.
However, unlike before the young man wasn't given the pleasure of having some dignity imparted unto him as he was stripped out of his clothes and then shoved into the center of the room before being shut in. The concept of resistance had passed through his mind like a distant dream but Chris had spotted the lingering weapons that lay docile onto several of the figures sides and realized that the only thing his attempt to fight would have done, other than to maybe take out a few of his captors, was to get him ushered into a new world of pain and maybe even have several important pieces of his inner anatomy broken into his shard like fragments before he was thrown into wherever he had been placed now.
Not the most heroic of choices, but at the same time no one ever praised a dead hero for long. A smart coward however, usually lived long enough to face the scornful repercussions of his actions and live with them.
Assimilation
Chris found himself getting up and moving so that he was once again sitting cross legged on the cold floor beneath him before he raised his head to look up to see a bright white light shining above him above him. It would have been calming in any other situation to have some light around himself and be able to see where he was, though in hindsight the room was Spartan at best with its plain walls surrounding him but atleast it was better than the oppressing darkness that he had been trapped in earlier.
Not one to fear the dark, Chris could admit to himself that he hadn't liked not to have been able to see where his piss had landed when he had been relieving the lingering traces of the toxins that had been in his system, and he was faintly glad that he no longer had the stained pants wrapped on his thighs making his inner senses go 'ick'. Turning his head around and looking to see that the padding on the walls were the same kind used in some mental institutions he had seen once on television, Chris wondered faintly why that would be needed before his mind played a preview of what he thought the alterations to his body were going to do to him. It wasn't a pretty picture in the least.
A light chill ran down his naked frame, raising gooseflesh, but having nothing to do with his nakedness as Chris wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed at his shoulders for comfort and warmth. Seconds passed by without anything happening, these few fleeting moments making Chris somewhat more comfortable with himself and bold enough to get up, on slightly wobbly legs and pace around the edge of the room to look for some means of distraction.
Counting each of the pads on the wall, and coming up with twenty-eight for each side of the room, Chris looked up to the top of the ceiling and found nothing of importance, save the single lamp that was illuminating down onto him. There wasn't a camera anywhere he could see, nor was there anything else of remotely important to him, other than the single drain which he guessed for use for pissing. Kneeling down and peering at the nondescript circular metal Chris let his nose do the surveying for him as he caught only disinfectants and cleaners from where someone had recently scrubbed the thing clean just before his arrival.
Leaning back up and then settling back onto the wall behind him, Chris felt his senses start to waver and a yawn bubble up from out of his throat as he realized that fatigue was starting to creep up on him. If he had to guess, he would have said that a few hours had passed and that he should have long since been in the land of dreams by now, however life was sometimes too caprice for its own good, he thought bemusedly. Chris gave a grunt as he slid down the padded wall behind him and then lay on his butt, with one knee propped and the other stretched out towards the drain in front of him, before lowering his head and then his eyes as he tried to doze. Whatever was going to happen to him would happen whether he was asleep or not and he wanted to be as mentally prepared as he could in case he had a chance to fight for his freedom if the opportunity propositioned itself.
Head down and tucked between his shoulders, Chris didn't note anything odd happening for several minutes until he felt something lightly rubbing the sole of his foot. Mental alarms blared at him that he wasn't alone in the room anymore before something wrapped around his left foot and startled him to full wakefulness.
Eyes wide and focused sharply on whatever it was that was invading his personal space, Chris nearly yelped out loud as he found a goo like tar substance clinging around his ankle and crawling up further to his thigh. Not sure if he was dreaming or not, Chris reached down to snatch the material away from himself without realizing that he was probably making a fatal mistake in his panicked logic. All his military training went out the window as he grabbed a handful of the rubbery like substance and then tore it off of his foot, or tried to as the case were.
The yellowish-black like goo seemed to have bonded to his foot like a adhesive and as Chris yanked he found his entire leg coming up to halfway before a shot of pain lanced through his lower body making him drop his leg like it was on fire. Thankfully, full immolation didn't occur next because of his action but that may have been an illusionary kind of blessing as Chris noted whatever it was that was coating his upper thigh was now being followed by a copy of itself from out of the drain he was laying near. Trying to sit up and back away as far as he could, Chris now realized why the wall behind him was padded as he tried to scramble up its sides, only to find his blunt nails couldn't get purchase in the velvet like material.
Whipping his head around, Chris dove off to the side furthers away from where more of the living goo like creature was crawling upwards to pool all around the metal piping until there was a several gallons worth of it wallowing idly in place...as if waiting for something. Chris didn't understand what was going on, his mind at a loss for theorizing what the hell was going happening until he noticed that his right leg didn't seem to register with the upper portions of his brain. A fearful eye looked down only to find the reason and make Chris wish that he hadn't bothered. There on his right leg, covering the entire appendage up to where his scrotum was hanging down on side of the rubber material, was the organic goo-like substance clinging onto him like some kind of bizarre monster from a B-rated horror movie.
Crawling up a little higher and getting to the place no man ever wanted a foreign object touching, Chris watched with a terrified sense of awe as he began to note the patterns that the goop was taking as it took hold of his leg. It seemed to have all of the markings of the, now extinct, giant cat known as a tiger, if he remember his natural history correctly. Jagged stripes of black appeared on his leg several inches between where the gold like coloring was donning over his leg, which in itself seemed to be getting heavier and wider as he noted an increase in girth in his normally well proportioned, if not muscular leg.
Grunting when he felt the weight pull him down onto one knee, Chris let out a hiss of discomfort as he felt the coolness of the substance start to split and then crawl up between his groin and the crack of his buttocks before stopping and suddenly growing still. It took several deep breaths before Chris began to question why the thing had stopped its assault before he turned his head to the side and noted that his right leg was burning slightly and opening his eyes as wide as half-dollar coins, Chris found the reason. Whatever the stuff was doing to him it was changing his molecular structure from the inside out at a rate that was beyond belief as he watched what was happening to him.
That was the only logical explanation as Chris found his thigh muscles almost as big as his torso and gaining a little more width with each second as the goo fused with his cells and expanded bone and muscle to give him a sumo wrestler wide leg. Fascinated, horrified, amazed and curious, Chris wasn't ready for his right leg to start moving without his command or to have his body hauled over to the placid pool of gold and black that seemed to be waiting on him. Trying to defy his legs movement only met him with unadulterated pain as Chris was dragged like a hostage into the pool and then made to submit his body when tendrils of the rubbery fluid rose up to snake up the line of his body as if attracted to him by some unseen force.
Right palm coated in the goo and dripping with the watery-rubbery feeling material on his hand, Chris tried to snatch the strings of substance away from himself with as much intensity as he could manage. Tearing some of the lines away and clenching them between his fingers like a brittle piece of a bone, Chris watched and listened for any signs of snapping or breaking that would indicate that he was in control of the situation. Sadly, he found none.
Not only that but his actions seemed to spur the living organism on as he soon found his right hand soon covered with the symbiotic creature and then turning into a giant paw that appeared to gain a will of its own and become a dead weight on the side of his massive leg. Now with one side of him completely changed Chris found himself hissing and trying to yell out as loud he could for someone to come in and stop this. He wouldn't recall until later that he was making the sounds of a frightened feline until much later when his new personality came fully online and the creature he would become would scoff at the former human's baseless terror at denying himself the pleasure that came with assimilation into his new self.
For now though, the struggling human paid little mind to his growing arm, biceps and triceps growing thicker and broader with every moments to rival a champion weightlifter, and the finely pointed claws lengthening from the tips of his once blunt fingernails. Chris didn't see any majesty in himself nor in the change taking place outside of his body, even though others were and did, before he suddenly went ridged as a plank of wood as a thin line of cool goo shot into the pucker of his ass and then began to drill its way up into his intestinal track with relentless purpose. The transforming human grunted and gasped, letting out a rasping like cough of a grunt as his prostate was stimulated as the symbiotic creature mapped out the inside of his anus and then began to spread itself out from the, still vast pool on the floor.
The transforming human never noticing as some of the rubbery goo seeped back out of his anus to drip onto the pool below as if leaking fluids were coming out his overstimulated rectum signifying his unwanted excitement. Chris was between rapture and disgust as he wondered why in the hell his he was getting aroused down below at being taken control of like some kind of city girl in by the blob when he realized that, he was indeed, getting aroused yet he couldn't feel his erection hardening like it was supposed to be.
Head snapping down, Chris watched as the lines of goo as they merged with the pectorals of his already defined chest, and like paint splotches, splashing everywhere in an attempt to get at the parts of him that were still tanned flesh and not cool white and gold rubber like what much of his body was already becoming, before his gaze shot further down to his crotch and he let out a roar loud enough to vibrate the room. While most of the living genetic material was trying to coat his body the lower parts that they had already coated had wrapped around his cock and warped it to a deviant variation of his once proud maleness and turned it into a sick joke only befitting a dubiously sane mind.
His shaft was no longer the tanned colored that it once had been but now was an ivory white hue with a glaring red head that was lying flat onto the ground like a deflated balloon. Chris couldn't see any veins on the length of his pride and felt something akin to defeat as he wondered if he would ever get another erection in his life. Odd thing to be worried about at a time like this but the male ego places priorities on the most important functions of the male archetype and the tool used for procreation often was praised more than any muscle that could be exercised by weights and training. Looking at the hood of his shaft, not even getting a flex from it when he tried to strain his inner muscles, and then to the pulled back rubber foreskin that lay underneath the red tip, Chris let out a growl of indignation and then began to renew his fight against the symbiotic creature trying to fully incorporate itself into his being.
Chris found like a man possessed as his only remaining human hand reached down to try to rip the goo from off of his left leg which seemed to be oddly free of much of the symbiote coating him. The goo seeming to ignore this side of himself completely in favor of happily taking control of the rest of his body and giving its host something to play with as it curled and fused around the rest of him. During this time, Chris failed to notice what was already happening to the other parts of his body, the symbiotic creature playing with him by taking up some of his left foot and thigh only to have the human bat away at it before trying again, as it occupied itself with expanding his inner organs to change the fluids inside of his body to match the genetic material that would be needed to sustain his new being while at the same time causing the musculature of his chest and torso to develop several rows of packed muscles on the front, sides and back of his body.
The living organism readily took advantage of the human's already defined form and the potential for muscle development that only it could supply through the chemical and electrical conduits that made up its very being. Chris was too busy with his cat and mouse game to notice much of what was going on at this point, he fervently believed that he could save himself by futility fighting with the organism from this angle, to take notice when a surging heat began to well up in the bit of his stomach and then curl around the back of his spine before he let out a coughing roar and dropped fully down onto the now empty floor.
Reaching behind him with his only fleshy hand, Chris found a nub at the base of his spine growing wide as his fingers and then wider to the size of his balled up fist before pushing out from his back to writhe behind him in the air. It took several seconds, Chris trying to stop this from happening by yanking on the thing to pull it out of his backside only to yelp and hiss when he caused himself needless pain. When it was finally elongated to its full length, Chris felt the, his, new tail, he couldn't deny the recently created appendage as his fingers brushed lightly over the thing and every gentle movement of the underside of his fingers registered a kind of welcomed satisfaction into his brain, even though it should have been impossible for any nerves or tendons to be there to birth such a thing.
The goo, taking the lack of resistance as prospect to move on, it trailed up the sides of Chris' neck to make a wide V-shape of his throat and sternum. The coating on Chris' chest had expanded every place it had touched and as the upper portion touched the lower it sealed the human inside of a snug suit of rubbery flesh that was still changing him into a more proper form. Chris removed his hand from his awe inducing tail just to find that he was too late in stopping what had come next. The symbiotic creature had taken over atleast six-eighths of the human and now was going for another piece of the pie as it slid up the side of his face, wrapping around Chris' gaping mouth, his round nose, wide cheeks, flat chin, on up to his short and spiky human hair. Taking all of that and then gripping his face as if it were in a mold, Chris had just enough time to reach onto his left side to snatch some of the more flimsy goo away from himself as his face began to expand out into a full tiger's muzzle.
His nose was broaden out to a rounder point than before but instead of becoming striped like his lower self, Chris looked down with the only eye he had control over and then watched as a rose like hue began to show through the golden color until he was now supporting a feline pair of nostrils. Still trying to vehemently fight, Chris found his pretentious left hand caught in a bind by his new tail and pulled away like a child defiantly trying to get at a precious toy. Now as he was held in place by his altered form against his will completely, Chris was only able to take a few deep breaths to calm himself just in time for the goo to snap back up onto the left side of his face and finish what it had started.
Down below the rest of his left leg was taken by the material that had been idly waiting for command from the rest of the symbiotic creature before it too was wrapped in the rubber substance and then grew to equal dimensions to match the right side of the tigerman's body. Chris wanted to scream, shout, to deny what was happening to him with every fiber of his being but he knew that it was impossible. He was lost and as the final few smears wiggled around his body up to his left arm to make a carbon copy of his right, the former was thrown back into the recesses of his own mind where he soon found himself dangling helplessly on the edge of a precipice known as unconsciousness.
Inside of his head, the symbiotic creature was weaving itself inside of his thoughts, terraforming his consciousness and warping memories so that it would have ample control of its host and yet be able to lay dormant to allow the other to do as it pleased while it took over subtle control of his metabolic structure to control emotions, ideas, and desires. Flipping through the once human's mind like going through a scrap book, the symbiote reorganized everything it could, removing thoughts an concepts and merging others together so that it could bury itself deep into Chris' subconscious and have total dominion over what he was to become. The process went well into the night as the creature invaded and conquered and assimilated until it came to a hinge in the process. The symbiote came to a foreign concept as it rooted through the once human's mind and found itself in the place known as pleasurable stimuli. Going over past exploits the creature found itself confused by such an idea and sought to learn more by delving in the past exploits of Chris' youth.
The place known as arousal gave the symbiote a sense of wonder about its host as it had never dwelled in such a region before and found excitement in what it was seeing and experiencing within the vast corners of the human's psyche. Rifling through thoughts and memories like someone watching a home movie, the living organism came to understand that human males derived pleasure from the stimulation from the nervous system located at the genitals, along with various other places along the human body like the anus and upper chest area. Deciding to test the usage of such functions to analyze the necessity of such actions for the future the symbiotic creature began to send messages to the newly born anthromorphic tiger which were carried out with clinical precision.
The tiger, on the outside, looked down at itself and blinked several times with shimmering green eyes as it noted the bare power lying at its command in the form of its muscular body, a spark of what could be called adoration forming when the feline licked out with its broad tongue over the cusp of his dark lips and then around the edges of its four sharpest canines inside of its muzzle before it brought both of its clawed paws up to the front of its face. Looking at the deadly sharpness of the weapons on each of its fingertips, the tiger reached down over himself to cartography ever spare centimeter of its power laced form.
From the top of its head and the twitching points of the feline ears wiggling around like satellite dishes, the tiger listened to the subtle sounds coming from the outside of the room and the persons who were talking about him before moving along down its body. Thick paw pads ghosted over his pink nose, taking in the his scent and memorizing the spicy musk that made him unique, the feline brushed across his throat, around his shoulder blades and neck then down his chest while feeling every rough definition of the deceptively hard rubbery muscles that stood out from his body.
No longer having nipples, the mammaries having been lost when the assimilation took place, the tiger failed to note any sign of significant pleasure wracking a course through his body as he continued to explore over himself with his paws all the way down to his torso, counting each ripple of muscle and growling in delight by the knowledge that he was simply coursing with undiluted strength before reaching down with both paws to take hold of the listless mass between his thighs.
Laying down completely onto the floor on his back, the feline tested the weight of his sexual organ and found them to be as thick as several of his fingers and heavy enough to make his massive paw dip down enough close to the floor, the tiger wasn't sure what to think at first before his left hand gripped around the meaty flesh on happenstance and then began to pull at himself while his right paw cupped the two round spheres, almost too big to fit in one paw together. Letting out a sharp hiss that became a groan unfitting the titan like male the tiger began to slide his paw up the length of his shaft to the rubbery foreskin and then back down in a slow, easy of his paw while rumbling a growl of gratification to himself.
Reaching the up to the head of his maleness and then curling two fingers around the head, mindful of his new weaponry, the tiger began to stroke and himself over and over with varying states of pressure, his tail swinging loosely in the air underneath him to emphasize his rapture, while inside his mind networks of synapses fired signals and made mental copies of every nuance of physical euphoria that was singing through the tiger's veins. Though he didn't have the same red blood cells that the human it had been once possessed, the feline had something reminiscent enough so that fluids pumped down into his maleness and then began to engorge the phallus until it stood mightily between the folds of his abdomen. Stroking himself harder and more quickly, the tiger lost himself to the pleasures of the flesh, failing to note when the door to the room he was in opened to reveal several men in suits all around him.
There were words being said and shouts between the figures, but to the tiger pleasing himself it was no more than meaningless garble that and did little to stop him even as he began to hiss heavily and growl through his half open muzzle at the climax that was fast approaching. Tugging at the end of his scrotum, pulling his balls down until a bite of pain began to itch up into his spine, the tiger rubbed his rubbery shaft faster and harder, watching through the slit his eyes had become as clear fluid dribbled out from the tip and arches up whenever he pumped himself with just the right about of urgency.
Grunting and groaning, the feline gave his balls one last hard tug before releasing them and delving a finger back behind his taint right underneath the tip of his tail to where his clenching pucker was. Retracting a claw, the feline let his tail slap down onto the floor hard enough to make it catch some of the people's attention before he jammed a broad finger up into his ass close enough to prod his prostate and sent white fire up through his body to send him careening off the edge of the map.
The roar the feline let out was loud enough to make all of the talking heads shut up and turned to notice the first geyser of symbiotic come that shot up out of the tiger and onto the ceiling above him. It, like the feline himself, was both mighty and majestic and completely mindboggling as the feline came and came for several seconds while unleashing a torrent big enough to paint the wall in whitish-gold liquor.
When the tiger finally came down from its orgasm several strands of come dripping down onto his already white chest, leaving trails of semen to run down the valleys of its chest and belly before the feline popped his finger out of his ass then dropped boneless onto its back with a happy purr in its throat. Nobody knew what to say and no one was brave enough to go prod the big cat as it began to drift off into slumber, but in the back of its mind the human known as Chris Redfield was moaning and shivering as the symbiote reformed the previous thoughts of denial and subversion inside of his head to link the pleasure sensors that the outer tiger form was feeling with the resistant human impulses that were steadily getting rerouted into submission and obedience.
It would take more before the inner human and the outer form of the great cat would become intermingled enough for the symbiotic organism on the inside of release control of the man known as Chris but with time it would happen and once that day came, Chris would come to accept what he was and know no greater joy that that of being what he was...
Deadly...
Powerful...
Vicious...
And above all...Unstoppable...