FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 1

"For the record… and, please if you can, speak clearly. What is your name?"

"I… err… I’m not sure. I don’t have one."

The interviewer glanced down at his notes. "Aren’t you Doctor James Wells?"

"Yes. No. Woof! I mean, I don’t know. Not really. I’m still getting used to this."

"Well what would you like me to call you?"

"Call me… call me ‘Adam.’"

"Okay. Adam." The Interviewer scribbled a note on his pad. "Before we talk about the accident I’d like the record to establish some background information. Although we are videoing this, for written transcripts and audio-only versions I’m going to describe your physical appearance. Do you mind standing up? Great, thanks. Broadly speaking, you appear to be a combination of Human and canine…"

"Great Dane."

"Okay, yes, I see. You appear to be Human and Great Dane. You appear to share physical characteristics of both in almost equal measure. Your height is, what, 220 cm? Okay, and your weight is listed as 132 kg. Your torso and arms appear almost entirely human, but covered in a light-brown fur. Your hands seem are black but otherwise entirely human. Your waist is thinner than I’d expect for such a deep chest. Your legs are… you have shortened muscular thighs, shortened shins, you appear to have hocks and hindfeet like a dog. You stand on your rear pasterns which appear to be paw pads. Do you have difficulty balancing like that?"

"The tail helps." Adam turned to show his tail, which wagged slowly.

"My god. Sorry, okay. You understand your appearance is quite striking. Where was I? Your shoulders are broad, your neck is quite long. Your head is… your face…" the interviewer drew a breath, "Your face appears very dog-like, Dane-like. It is mostly covered in the same short, brown fur that covers the rest of your body. You have a long, square muzzle with drooping jowls covered in black fur. Your eyes, dark brown, are mostly forward-facing on a ridge up from your muzzle. Your forehead is broad and flattened. Your ears droop down, they’re very large and also covered in black fur. I thought Great Dane ears stood up and were pointed."

"No." Adam growled, "Great Danes naturally have drooping ears. The pointed ears were cut when Dane pups are small, and it’s scar tissue that keeps them up. It’s a brutal cosmetic mutilation that you humans… that people… I’m sorry. You understand, part of my nature is very distressed at the thought of my pups… of puppies… "

"No, no… that’s fine. Please, I didn’t mean to distress you. Just to finish up, then. When open your mouth you have long, sharp dog teeth. Your tongue is… well it’s enormous. That you’re able to control it enough to speak so clearly frankly astounds me. Your mouth seems entirely dog-like. Do you have difficulty eating?"

Adam laughed. "No, but I do have a problem with drool. Watch this." He shook his head. With a sound like thick porridge poured onto concrete Adam’s ears and jowls flapped around his face. A great rope of drool flew from his jowls and splatted against the ceiling. Another evil rope flew in the opposite direction to stick to a wall.

The interviewer noted with disgust there were several dried splats of drool already on the ceiling and walls. Well at least the drool hadn’t hit him. He looked back at the figure standing near the table, "Now, I understand, and I’m sure you appreciate the difficulty… the staff here have had some trouble finding clothing suitable to your stature. But I’m surprised…"

"No," Adam interrupted the interviewer, "the people here have been great. They found large robes which fitted fine. They just… I didn’t feel comfortable wearing clothing. My fur keeps me adequately warm. Clothing restricted my movement and made me feel clumsy. Since the… since the accident I’m not embarrassed by my form. In fact this feels completely natural." Adam shrugged, "I prefer to remain naked."

"Okay… Okay… That’s fine. Really. Okay…" Despite his words, the interviewer seemed flustered. "Then, for the record, let me describe what I see." He drew another deep breath. "The accident appears to have… Your genitals… you no longer appear to have…"

"What you’re looking at are normal, natural Great Dane genitals. My penis is quite fine, inside this furry sheath. If you like I can peel it back and… no? Really, no? Fine." Adam grinned and continued, "You can see I have two rather large testicles in a black, almost furless scrotum. Yes, they are supposed to hang down that low – these are normal, natural dogs’ bollocks." He sat back down at the desk opposite the interviewer.

"That’s… thanks. Okay." The interviewer was sweating. "You don’t appear self-conscious at all. If it had been me… if I’d been mutilated like that… I think I’d be a screaming mess."

Adam’s eyes flicked briefly to the clock on the wall. "Well, it hasn’t happened to you. And believe me, you would be as comfortable with yourself if it had."

The interviewer took a moment to regain his composure. "I’m sorry, yes, that was unprofessional of me. If you like we can strike it from the record. No? Okay, onward then."

He paused. "For the record, give me some background about the Makers. Explain in non-technical terms for civilian staff who may need to understand. As developer of the Mark 4.0 Maker I guess you understand more about them than almost anyone here anyway."

Adam leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head. "Okay." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Before I talk about Makers, I need to talk about viruses." His speech fell into the natural narrative mode of a lecturer…

A virus is a tiny chemical machine. Half a million atoms dance in a package around 70 nanometres across. By comparison, one of your red blood cells is about seven micrometres – a hundred viruses end-to-end would just span it. One of the hairs on your head is about 80 micrometres in diameter – a thousand viruses end-to-end wouldn’t span it. Because they’re such a tiny package viruses aren’t complex enough to reproduce on their own. Instead they invade one of your cells, slice up the DNA and use the chunks to replicate themselves. Your cell dies, the newly created viruses go off to find a new cell to attack. You feel terrible and take a week off work.

The version 4 Makers are tiny compared to a virus. Around a thousand atoms of mostly isotopes of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen and a smattering of sulphur and silicon make up a complex molecule. You could easily pack over a hundred Makers in the volume of a single virus. Individually, one Maker can do almost nothing at all. It can link to other Makers with an atomic bond and it can subtly change its shape. Most of its structure is dedicated to harvesting ambient electromagnetic energy – they don’t need to eat to stay powered - and part of the structure is for inter-Maker communication. A carbon lattice surrounds entangled photons which form the smallest unit of a communications network. There is nothing intelligent in a Maker. The packets of communication are the tiniest triggers, not even commands – lock to your neighbour, bend slightly. Every atom of the Maker also acts like a block of quantum data. The innovation of the version 4 Maker is in keeping atomic structure stable while super-positioning several quantum states on every electron and proton. Each Maker contains the equivalent of thousands of lines of highly-optimized trigger lists. Most of the code is instruction on building a new Maker, a good chunk of the code is safety interlocks – I’ll get to that in a moment.

Individually, a Maker is useless. By crude analogy, individually, one transistor is also useless. Get several transistors together and you can form a logic gate. Get several logic gates together and you can form a byte of memory or a processor register. Get enough of those together and you can start building a computer. But each transistor is just a tiny dumb lump of molecules.

Put several Makers together and they interlock to form tools. Lock eight Makers into a ring, they will all flex subtly - they form a pincer or cutter or manipulator. String another four in a line and your cutter is on a flexible arm. As soon as around one hundred Makers get together they network to form a very specific tool – a Maker builder. It is a tool so tiny it can strip individual atoms from the environment – pull oxygen and nitrogen molecules from the air around you – to build a new Maker. It takes one hundred Makers around a minute to build a single new Maker. In just over an hour enough new Makers have been built to combine into a second Maker-builder.

At the rate of around one new Maker per minute they’ll make enough units to start a second builder in an hour. Each of those Maker factories will have built enough Makers after an hour so you have four factories. And so on in an exponential series.

After a day you’ll have around sixteen million Makers. The process sounds slow – these things are so tiny. It would take around a trillion of them to form a structure big enough to be visible to the naked eye.

With unlimited resources, after 48 hours you’ll have close to three hundred trillion Makers – a blob about the size of a grain of sand. Still not too scary.

The next day you’d see your grain of sand had grown to around a cupful. And the day after that this cell would be filled up to your chin with tiny machines. By the end of the week… well you could say goodbye to civilization.

Obviously, my bosses would be displeased if this happened. Fortunately, it’s impossible. Firstly, once the volume of Makers starts getting large they reach a natural limit on their reproductive abilities simply by the difficulty of getting raw materials to the Makers inside the volume. So then it’s only the surface Makers reproducing. Depending on how thinly the volume spread out, it could take whole months for the collapse of society. Secondly, there are all manner of interlocks in their code to ensure this cannot possibly happen. Makers absolutely will not, cannot, harvest living cells for material. When they contact long strings of organic molecules the Makers abort their builder tool configuration. Thirdly, Makers aren’t just Maker-making tools. When they reach a critical mass of around a billion units (nearly enough to fill a single red blood cell) the Maker units reconfigure into a larger-scale data receiver and processor. At this point they are essentially a single remote-control unit which receives further instructions from an external computer. Without an external controller, the cell-sized block of Makers will become inert.

And lastly, Makers are never allowed out of the laboratory.

How do you keep a tiny machine which can strip down molecules and reproduce itself from leaving the lab? With a two-stage defense: The last stage of defense is a coating of complex proteins over every surface, which is inimical to Maker builder configuration. They can’t eat their way out. The primary line of defense against Makers is… more Makers. Type 3s Makers are a dumbed-down machine with no reproductive abilities and which can form only one configuration – an impervious net of interlocked parts. Once the net is configured, inter-Maker communication will relay any damage or breach of the net to safety systems. They in turn will chemically purge the laboratory and destroy every Maker. Every piece of protective clothing, every tool, every computer, every piece of furniture has the same impervious protective coating. Environmental suits are destroyed after use.

So, what are Makers actually for? Well, practically anything! Under the control of an external computer Makers can be configured in infinite ways. Tell a cell-sized Maker machine to produce tools and manipulators which can pluck individual viruses out of a healthy cell. Tell it to target individual cancer cells. Tell a bunch of the cell-size units to form a net over a torn artery, then contract to pull the wound together. Tell a giant network of Maker units to take over the insulin production of a necrotised pancreas. Get enough of them together and you can replace entire organs.

Makers are exceptionally useful in medical situations because they’re small enough to manipulate individual cells – hell even individual atoms inside cells if necessary. But they’re versatile enough to network into entire functioning organs.

But forget medicine. Configure Makers to unbind and they’ll flow like a liquid. On command they’ll link and flex over each other to build any macro shape. Want a table? Gloop – you have a table. Want a chair? The table will flow and change shape into a chair. Want a complex mechanical wristwatch? Clumps of Makers will form every gear, every spring, every bearing.

Want a bullet-proof window? The atomic bonds formed by linked Makers are as strong as diamond. They could be configured to catch the bullet, slow it without damage, turn it around and propel it back toward the gunman.

We are making an infinitely configurable, intelligently controlled, super material. If you dream it, Makers will be it.

Chapter 2

"Thank you, uh, Adam. That was an excellent introduction to Maker technology. Would you mind if we take a short break?"

The interviewer probably needed to use the bathroom, thought Adam. "No, that’s fine. It’ll give me a chance to gather our thoughts, my thoughts, before we talk about the event."

The interviewer stood and knocked on the door of the room. Cell, thought Adam. A guard checked through the window before opening the door. Security dogs sniffed the interviewer as he left the room. Cell. The guards were armed. They closed and locked the door.

Adam leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. The drool scintillated slightly. He was in no rush. The clock on the wall ticked by a few minutes before the door opened and the interviewer returned.

"Okay, the accident. What was it, ten days ago now? I’m incredibly sorry you’ve been kept in this facility for so long. You understand the military have been incredibly concerned about the possibility of a Maker epidemic. Partially this interview is to reassure the Generals the situation is contained and every Maker has been destroyed."

Adam winced. It had been his life’s work.

"Oh, you must be quite devastated the Maker project was shut down. But of course you understand, in light of your… condition how there’s no way the project could continue. One serious accident from a supposedly accident-proof laboratory was more than the military would allow. I suppose we should be glad this entire facility wasn’t levelled with a nuke by some over-cautious General. As it is they’re still twitching around the idea the event hasn’t been entirely contained."

"No, I do understand. I disagree with their conclusion of danger but I appreciate their desire to contain the Maker outbreak." Adam sighed, "Detention here hasn’t been so bad. The facility staff have made my stay comfortable." He gestured to the door, "Jase, the soldier out there, has been happy to chat through the door. Did you know he really enjoys guard duty? He’s happiest when he’s spending time on duty with his K9 patrol." Adam smiled. "Shall we continue?"

"Right, okay. Please, be as detailed as possible – everything is important to know." The interviewer’s pencil was poised over his notepad.

Adam rubbed his head. "What I know is more than I should be able to know. Have you seen the movie ‘Vantage Point’? Well, it doesn’t really matter. Essentially it’s one story told from the perspective of several different people. In my head I have three entirely separate stories – memories – of the event. They make up a single memory, my own – who I am now - of what happened. But the narrative is going to sound a little confused."

"Wait, did you say three…? Surely just you and the dog…"

"I AM the dog." Adam snarled. "There is no ‘and’. I am the human. I am the dog."

"But, three…"

"I’ll get to that. In time."

The interviewer fiddled nervously with his pencil, "The accident…"

"It was impossible. It could never happen. Checks, procedures, countermeasures, impenetrable barriers, security interlocks, monitoring, alarms – there was absolutely no way even a single Mark 4 Maker could leave the laboratory. And yet…" Again Adam became the lecturer.

And yet it had happened. Two almost-impossible things happened simultaneously. It was such a tiny thing, on the scale of nanometres.

This event happened more than two weeks ago – this was the accident.

Part of my configuration tests of the Makers forced them into different geometric structures. It was quite routine stuff – form a sphere, find the critical path to convert to a torus, expand to a maximum-sized ring. Just geometry. At the nano-scale try optimizing the energy-gathering matrix. The electromagnetic harvesters of the Makers formed a resonant circuit. For the briefest time billions of Makers aligned to become rectifying antennas which absorbed light and excreted electrical charge. They made a tiny spark of jumping electrons. A fraction of the configuration – barely a few million Makers - was hurled at incredibly high speed by super-heated air. Induced electromagnetic fields accelerated the free Makers to massive speed.

As the blob of Makers - smaller than one red blood cell - sped toward the elbow of my environmental suit something formed in its wake. A droplet of the aromatic organic solvents used to purge the lab condensed. It was dragged along with the Maker disk.

On impact the disk of Makers punched a ring of protective Mk 3 Makers from the surface of my environmental suit. The damaged Mk 4 Makers reverted to the reduced functionality of Mk 3 makers and instantaneously meshed to patch the environmental suit. The droplet of solvent punched a hole through the Maker 4 disk and dissolved away the organic chemicals beneath. Barely a thousand Mark 4 Makers survived intact to touch the nylon fabric of my work shirt. A group so tiny it was almost as small as a lone virus cell.

The accident was complete in less than a millisecond. The breach of the protective Mk 3 Maker network had been briefer than a nanosecond – too short to trigger an alarm. The damaged Mk 4 Makers had configured around the hole in a torus giving the illusion, to the network, of a uniform sheet.

And to the monitoring systems taking a census of Makers it appeared as though a static discharge had vaporized a few million of the tiny machines. It was of no consequence – barely justifying a notation in the laboratory logs. Within a minute Maker factories had replaced the missing Mk 4 Makers.

A work day ended. Tests had been run, knowledge advanced, humanity was closer to utopia. The damaged environmental suit was discarded, dissolved, purged. I signed out, grabbed my jacket and left the underground bunker to return to my chalet.

I knew my Master loved me. But it was soooo boring being home on my own. As the sun moved the light up the east wall it was nearing that time. Crunching of gravel underfoot on the driveway signalled my Master was coming home! I trotted to the front door and, like a good dog, sat and waited patiently for the door to open. Those moments are torment – he seems to take forever to jiggle with his keys before the latch finally snicks. My tail banged against the walls either side of the hallway. The door opened and He came in! I couldn’t help it – it was just intolerable! I jumped up and put my paws on his shoulders and slobbered all over his face. He staggered backward into the door and dropped his jacket trying to fend me off. It’s been ages since this morning, I missed him so much!

My only real indulgence is Hamlet, a monster of a Great Dane dog. I’ve never had much time in my life for people – my work is too esoteric to talk about, and people are just, well, stupid. But Hamlet is such a sweetheart. Every day I get home he’s overjoyed to see me. I should probably be more stern with him but I cant help it – he’s just so happy I always end up laughing as I try to fend off his kisses. When he eventually stops waggling his butt, crashing his tail against the walls and gets his paws off my shoulders I can make my way down the hallway. Like any good bachelor, I toss my used shirt into the bedroom, on the floor.

We go for a run in the park. We share a dinner – I get pizza, he gets kibble (and pizza crust). Hamlet takes up almost the entire couch and I sit at the end with his head in my lap while we watch ‘House of Cards’, or something. He listens with raised eyebrows as I talk about just another day. Since I got him as a pup, five years ago, he’s been my closest friend.

I sleep on the bed with him. I love to press my nose into his hair and breathe in his scent. He’s my world.

What you’re thinking of as ‘the accident’ didn’t actually happen until a week later.

The world outside of a laboratory is incredibly hostile to small colonies of Makers. The nylon fabric of the shirt stretched and flexed, fibres tore my body apart into several tiny colonies. I’d had a brief moment while we were still in the lab to grow, breaking down the inactive Mk 3 Makers to harvest the necessary trace elements. Before I’d been taken from the lab I’d grown several-fold. But then the fabric flexed and tore me into dozens of widely separated colonies. I was almost too dispersed to survive.

For seven days Mark 4 Makers were disassembling my shirt. The nylon provided a rich source of already partially-assembled organic molecular chains. Sand and dust in the environment provided the necessary other trace atoms. I’m sure if I’d laundered my shirt on that first day the colonies would never have established. But I’m an untidy sod, and, well, it just lay on my bedroom floor for a week.

I also broke safety protocols by having Maker development software running on my home computer. Some evenings and weekends I’d experiment with different Maker command sets and simulations. What would happen with unregulated growth? What would happen if we organized their simple network into macro processors and ran actual computing processes directly on the Maker network. What would happen if we gave Makers access to command sets they themselves could adapt to suit their environment? What would they do if they had entire databases of medical data already uploaded into their own network? Maybe they could proactively find and eliminate diseases we didn’t even know were in a patient. It was mad-scientist stuff, I know. But it was safely far away from Makers and it allowed me to advance Maker development much faster. For a week I ran the simulations, allowing virtual Maker colonies to grow so I could chart their progress. It was cool but, you know, I’d never actually be allowed to try it in the Real World.

Three hours before ‘the accident’ I turned off the computer and went to bed. Hamlet joined me, lay his head on the pillow next to mine and we went to sleep. He’s such a sweetie.

My mind was gone.

I woke to a strong smell: burnt metal. I knew the smell – my Master experimented with electronics and every so often there’d be a flash, a puff of smoke and that smell. It was all through the bedroom. I raised my head from the pillow and growled. There shouldn’t be that smell in the bedroom. There was something wrong and my Master would need to know. So I barked.

Holy nutballs, if you’ve ever been sound asleep at 3:00am and had a Great Dane bark in your ear… Well you probably haven’t. But you go from deep sleep to wide awake with the light on, staring wildly around the room in milliseconds.

There was nothing there. No, there was a smell. Fried electronics. I glanced around the room, looking for a source of smoke. Hamlet was standing on the bed watching warily. I slipped out from between the sheets and stood, looking around. I’d always slept nude and as I lived alone I wasn’t ashamed to walk through the house without grabbing a robe. The smell wasn’t coming from my office, only the bedroom. Casting my head around, trying to locate the source I looked up at the ceiling. A fine, bluish mist was raining down. It was coating everything in a pearlescent sheen. I turned my hand over watching the iridescence play on my skin, trying to understand what I was seeing.

And then… I knew. I was about to die. With absolute terror I realized I was standing in a mist of Makers, covered in them. They were everywhere. You can’t imagine the horror I was feeling, because you don’t know what rogue Makers are theoretically capable of. In a second they could strip away my skin, flay my muscles from the bone, leaving me a raw tangle of nerve cells unable to scream from the agony of it. In my mind there were a thousand horribly agonizing ways I could be dismembered in moments. They were out in a world of billions of lives. I confess, I pissed myself in fear.

He was terrified and I didn’t understand why. There was no fire, there was just the smell. And fear. Mortal fear. My Master was pissing himself in fear. This must be so bad, but I didn’t know why. I began to whine and pressed my nose against his arm. Where was the danger, what could I do?

Oh Hamlet. My sweet Hamlet. I’m so sorry. He too was coated in the opalescent sheen.

Chapter 3

I had a thought. I was aware. There were control units. Two of them! I’d been able to establish a rudimentary connection – I was desperate for instructions. Tell me what to do! Without control units I had been falling apart, invoking the dissolution protocols which would have turned me to a gas of free atoms. My colony was in the trillions of trillions and in a few more moments I would have been nothing.

My interface to the control units was so very tenuous. Their surface was Forbidden Organic. It was impossible for me to manipulate a single molecule of the units without precise instructions. If I’d tried, I would have immediately dissolved. So, carefully… carefully… try to glean more commands. There were no clear instructions coming from them - it was all a jumble of meaningless data. But it was enough to halt the dissolution. I reconfigured my network to focus on interpreting clearer instructions. Perhaps I could get better signals induced from their surfaces nearer the ceiling.

Then, like a beacon, it shone through. One precise, clear command. "At least we’ll go together."

For the past week I’d had access to an astounding database. Cellular anatomy, medical treatises, biology, chemistry, psychology, physiology… I had absorbed all this information and more, distributing data in bits and bytes across my entire colony. I could have absorbed a thousand times more. And now I could draw it down and organize it to fulfil my macro command.

This was a human. This was a dog. They would be one.

But they must not be harmed. Unambiguously they both eschewed pain. They both desired, commanded (well, near enough) to remain together, but overwhelming was the repeated mantra from both control units, "I hope there’s no pain… I hope there’s no pain…"

Great washes of fear from both units kept muddying my understanding of their commands.

This wouldn’t do. Fear was mental pain. They demanded no pain. It was my duty to relieve their fear. So I made a tiny probe, barely a few molecules wide, and grew it between cells to a region in each of their bodies that produces the fear-response hormones. The tiniest of tweaks – nothing damaging, you understand – and their bodies would calm down. Manipulating a few other glands, and I could give them pleasurable sensations instead. Okay, better. The confusing flood of fear signals dissipated. On to the task at hand.

A few seconds passed as I stood in terror – there was nothing I could do. I stared down at Hamlet who was confused and nuzzling at my arm. At least we’ll go together. My only, my one, my Hamlet.

And then, it was okay. Everything seemed… fine. Hamlet pulled his head back, cocked to the side quizzically. There would be no pain, there would be no harm. And we were together. I reached up and scratched the top of his head. "It’s okay, boy. You’re a good dog."

I wagged my tail.

My efforts initially were a bit clumsy. The psychology texts talked about two hearts becoming one, the effects of marriage and mating, love, union of one flesh – it was contextless gibberish. But the biology books were more helpful. The section on animal reproduction at least made some of the mechanisms clearer.

While I was collating and organizing the data, gathering the seeds of bits and bytes from across my network, I was also reorganizing myself. Before I lost my mind I had been awash in new ideas, new ways to structure my communications. Great chunks of myself were rebuilding my macro communications network. Other colonies were urgently manufacturing more of myself. I wasn’t yet aware of myself as a thinking unit. I still required external commands from the two biological units.

I synthesized a great wodge of oxytocin for the both of them. The human unit had an obvious penis so I knew he was a male. I… I confess I didn’t confirm whether the dog unit was female. I just kindof assumed they were a mated pair. Look, I was only a week old.

My interface to the command units was improving. I knew I wasn’t allowed to organize on a macro level to restrain or force them – that would be harm and therefore Forbidden. So I was forced to work at a biochemical level; stimulating hormones, nudging parts of the brain associated with desire, synthesizing the odd chemical enhancement. It was subtle work.

Hamlet was a fine example of the Great Dane breed. His stature was proud, his musculature well-defined, he stood nobly and strong. I took great care of him – we exercised together, we played together, we shared our lives. To me he was the perfect companion. So really I shouldn’t have been surprised I was getting sexually aroused as I stroked his head and velvety ears. I wasn’t really gay, I wasn’t really straight. I’d certainly never even considered bestiality. At 35 years old I’d resigned myself to being a virgin for life. It didn’t matter. My work was so intense it had been an almost sexual outlet. Designing Makers had been sufficient procreation for me. But Hamlet was gorgeous and he was my most intimate companion. I leaned my face down and rubbed my cheek against his soft muzzle. The smell of him was comforting - the smell of home. I rubbed my hands through the fur over his shoulders and down his back, feeling the strong muscles under my fingers.

His fingers massaged the muscles of my shoulders. My Master was my world. His touch down my body was the stroke of heaven. I began to wonder what it would be like to have a litter of his pups. I was so happy at the thought of playing with a litter of puppies, I flopped down on the bed and rolled over, wagging my tail. I stared up at my Master and panted with my tongue lolling out the side of my mouth. Maybe, if I was lucky, he’d give me tummy scratches. I pawed at him and wiggled on the bed.

There he was, stretched out on the bed, looking up and me with a dopy upside-down face. His jowls had fallen back to pool around his muzzle and it gave his face a crazy-happy grin. In the back of my mind there was a momentary niggle – shouldn’t I be worrying about the Makers? But Hamlet was being adorable! Such a sweet-heart! It is impossible to resist an upside-down, happy, wriggling dog.

Kneeling on the bed behind him with my knees either side of his hips I could lean forward and scratch my fingers hard into his chest fur. Hamlet gave a contented sound, like a drawn out "Haaaaaaaa…" and wriggled. His wagging tail thwapped against my ankles. I leaned forward and grabbed around his barrel chest. My cheek pressed into his soft neck fur and I again inhaled the scent of him. My Hamlet, my love. He looked up at me and licked my nose as I raised my head.

My Master sat back up again. I felt his fingers massaging down my chest and over my tummy. I wriggled and wagged. His fingers stroked lightly over my sheath. Well, this was new! It felt so good! Why had he never played this game before? His fingers explored around my balls – he seemed tentative and careful. This was the first time he’d handled my balls – he seemed to be rolling them around in his hand. The sensation was delightful. I could feel my cock starting to harden in its sheath. My Master leaned forward to rub his face against my balls and over my sheath. I could feel his tongue lick the hairless skin of my scrotum. And then I could feel him suck first one then the other testicle into his mouth.

Hamlets ballbag is entirely hairless black skin. Against my cheek it felt like warm silk. I couldn’t resist sucking his balls into my mouth. Well, only one at a time – together they were too big for my mouth. A growing bulge in his sheath pressed my cheek – it seemed this was arousing Hamlet as much as it was arousing me. My tongue traced a line from his balls down to his anus. Unfortunately, that’s a hairy line, so, you know, pteh… pteh – hairs in my mouth. But the pucker of his anus was hairless.

Now, you’re probably thinking, Ewww! Dog-butt on your tongue! I don’t know why – it just seemed… right. Proper. Curiosity, not revulsion, was foremost in my mind. Hamlet is an impeccably clean dog. I had to taste him. My tongue explored around his anus. You cant imagine how erotic this was to me. Such a very deep taboo. Such a very intimate act – using my tongue to stimulate the anus of my dog. My cock was so hard it was aching. At first his sphincter was clenched tight and I was contented with licking and flicking my tongue over the black, hairless pucker. It tasted slightly salty. Then Hamlet raised his hips slightly and relaxed and I could slip my tongue actually inside him. Gods, my cock jumped and I think I almost came then. Pre-cum dribbled over my foreskin.

I’ve licked my own butt many times. I’ve had other dogs lick my butt and I’ve licked plenty too. But it never felt like this. No other tongue ever managed to wriggle inside me. My master was giving me such delights I’d never felt before. Why had he waited five fucking years to play this game! I lifted my hips off the bed pulled my tail back to expose as much of my butt as I could. I wanted to feel him deeper in me. But he stopped! He pulled his mouth away and knelt back! Awww… damn.

I felt him shuffle his knees forward on the bed. Something large and blunt poked at my butt. Oh, he was going to use his cock. The head felt very big against my pucker. Fortunately he’d left plenty of saliva over my anus and his cock was freely leaking slippery pre-cum. But… it felt very big pressing against my sphincter. I raised my hips up and pulled my tail back as much as I could and tried to relax my arse. My master pushed forward. His foreskin peeled back as the head of his cock pressed through my pucker. It helped lubricate the forward progress. There was a fleeting pain – the head of his cock stretched me out faster and further than I was expecting. So my Master paused with just the head of his cock inside me. Involuntarily I clenched a few times around his cock until I got used to the size of it. When I’d relaxed my arse again, he pressed forward. His cock slipped easily to its full length inside me. The feeling… the sensation as the mushroom head of his cock rubbed against something deep inside me…. My own cock jumped and squirted a jet of watery precum onto my belly and chest. This was the best feeling ever.

For a moment I thought I’d hurt my Hamlet. His body jerked and his anus squeezed reflexively around the head of my cock. I paused in case he wanted to get off the bed – I dared not push forward or pull back in case I hurt him again. But he relaxed and still seemed happy enough. So I pushed my cock deeper into him. His body felt hot around my cock – dogs have a higher body temperature than humans. It was like a warm glove squeezing around my cock in time with his own cock jumping and squirting. Now, kneeling on the bed behind him was a little awkward. I could only pull my hips back a couple of inches – not really enough to thrust properly into him.

Shuffling my knees and lifting him at the hips I managed to drag us to the edge of the bed while keeping my cock buried in him. No way I wanted to lose that warm embrace for even a moment. Now I could stand on the floor with my legs apart to keep my cock down at dog-butthole level. Hamlet’s back paws pressed against my shoulders. My leaning forward naturally lifted his hips from the bed. And that left my hands free to massage his chest, stroke his cock and play with his balls while I fucked him.

He thrust into me hard, deep. He’d pull his hips right back then thrust hard and fast forward. Each time, something rubbed against the depths of me making a jolt of pleasure travel from my balls to my cock. My sheath was stretched tightly around my knot. My Master grasped it with his hand and squeezed the furry sheath hard. My knot was too big for one hand to fully surround. Then the pressure he was putting behind my knot felt like… well it felt suddenly exactly right. This is how mating a bitch would feel on my cock. My own hips started thrusting to the stimulation on my cock. My Master’s thrusts matched my own. He was pulling so far back his cock would slip completely free of my butt. Then before my gaping hole could close he’d push back into me. I felt orgasm building, deep in my balls. Jets of milky-white cum shot from my cock with such pressure they arced over the bed and splashed against the headboard. The jolts of pleasure made me squeeze reflexively against my Master’s cock. Oh, yes, this was definitely the bestest.

Hamlet was squirting powerful jets of cum right over the bed. His hips humped up off the bed. He had his mouth open and was panting with his tongue hanging out the side. Along my cock his reflexive squeezing pushed me over the edge. It was too much to sustain. My balls pulled up as the tension built. In my abdomen electric tingling cascaded into a sudden urgent burst of ecstasy. With a low grunt I thrust forward hard and squirted the first wad of cum deep into my lover. I didn’t even realize I was gripping Hamlet’s bulging sheath and pulling him back onto my cock. I felt I wanted to push my whole body into him, cock-first. His hips humped up to meet my thrusting. The contractions of his butt around me made my cock jump and squirt. Oh gods it was the most intense orgasm I’d had. A hot, squeezing, velvet tunnel was milking cum from my cock. And I was pleasuring my lover, giving him his own orgasm.

Success! A goodly chunk of one of the units had been injected inside the body of the other. Apparently both command units had been very pleased with this result – bliss and endorphins were saturating both of the units. The human unit lay forward on top of the canine and entwined his arms around it hugging it even closer. The human’s cock was still inside the canine.

No, it was only partial success. Merging ended. The human unit rolled off the canine and lay next to it, stroking the dog’s chest. The canine unit licked the human’s ears and waggled its tail. Well, it was a start. I’d realized my error in assuming the dog was female. Perhaps configuring the copulation in the opposite manner would be more successful. The two units seemed exhausted so I’d take the time while they recovered to optimize my cognitive networks.

That had been incredible. My lover had made me feel things I’d never felt before. I’d certainly lost my virginity now. Why had we waited so long? My lover hugged me close. We shared a kiss, adrift in the blissful afterglow of love-making.

Tweak here, chemical there, synthesize a hormone or two, twang a pleasure centre, ramp down the human to be a tad submissive, ramp up the canine to remember he wanted to father puppies… Et voilà!

Hamlet rolled over on the bed and raised his head. He thwapped a paw into my chest. "What’s up, boy?" I sat up and scraggled his ears, making him groan and lean into my hands. But he stood up on the bed and started intently at me, his tail wagging slowly side to side. He thwapped my chest with a paw again. I knelt up on the bed and rubbed his shoulders. I couldn’t tell what he wanted. Then he pushed his chest forward into my shoulder and knocked me back on the bed. Confused, I rolled over to raise myself onto my hands and knees on the bed. I’d intended to continue and stand up.

Finally he was in the right position! I jumped forward and grasped my Master’s hips. I pulled myself forward so my chest rested on his back. The sensitive flesh at the tip of my sheath touched his buttock. Yes, this was feeling right. Short humps of my hips pulled my questing cock forward and back. Sheath pulled back and my pink cock-tip poked around Master’s butt. It was frustrating – I was sure there was supposed to be more to this. I jumped off and sniffed him. I could smell where my cock had touched his butt. My nose pressed forward and I took a good lick.

Christ, his nose was cold! I jumped. But then his tongue licked over my butt-hole. It was incredible – warm and flexing, silky but firm, slipping over my arse. Ohhh, I groaned with the pleasure of it and dropped my head. I knew what he wanted now. Hamlet wanted to breed me. He wanted to make me his bitch and fill me with his puppies. But first he wanted to lick out my butt and make me squirm and gasp. His tongue was flexible and while you’d think dogs would have trouble controlling such a large muscle, they’re surprisingly skilled. One moment it would feel like soft sponge rubbing over my anus, then the next moment it would feel firm and probing at my pucker. The sensation was heavenly. I relaxed my pucker as much as I could – I wanted to feel more. I lay my head on the pillow so I could reach my arms back and spread my butt-cheeks. I needed to allow him better access for that magnificently skilled tongue. His drool slathered my butt. Then I’d relaxed enough so his tongue slipped past my sphincter and inside me. It was…. You cant imagine. I cant describe it. You’ll just have to try it for yourself. His tongue pushed into me – it was such a shock of pleasure I couldn’t help clenching my sphincter, forcing his tongue out again. Dammit. He licked around my entrance again and I relaxed as much as I could. Again his tongue pushed into me, jolting me with a shock of pleasure. Involuntarily I clenched again, forcing his tongue out. Dammit!

You’ve probably never been so skilfully stimulated by a lover you start to lose yourself. Well, maybe you have – who knows. I have. Your entire being becomes focussed on experiencing the sensations. You stop thinking like a person. My mouth was open, I was panting and drooling into the pillow, I was making whining and grunting sounds. My hands were trying to pull back my buttocks, opening my arsehole to allow that tongue deeper. It was really quite shameful. My entire will was focussed on not clenching my sphincter whenever his tongue slipped into me. Every time Hamlet managed to get his magnificent tongue inside me I’d be able to resist for a little longer. Until he was licking deep into my bowels. Oh god I was lost. His tongue would flex inches deep inside and lick outward. I…. Really you’re just going to have to experience it for yourself to understand.

My Master sounded like a desperate bitch in heat. He was whimpering and squirming as I licked him out. I could push my tongue right into his depths. Pressing my jaws right against his butt-hole, I could open him out and get my whole tongue inside him. Just a little more and I was sure I’d have him ready….

I pulled my head back and admired my handiwork. Yup, there was a well-lubed hole winking at me, begging me to breed. My Master was whimpering constantly with need. With the loss of stimulation from my tongue he dropped his arms back to the bed and tried to raise himself to his elbows. I jumped forward onto his back again. My paws clasped his waist and pulled him backward to my questing cock top. Around here somewhere, left a bit, pull back, push forward down a bit, ah, there. My cock-tip touched the centre of his lubricated pucker.

He thrust forward! In one motion Hamlet pushed the entire length of his cock inside me. Dogs have a penis-bone which keeps their cock rigid even when it’s not ‘hard’. He speared me with that bone to its full length. I gasped at the suddenness of it. Fortunately, his cock was still thin so I had a moment to get used to being penetrated so far.

But only a moment. Dogs fuck like jack-hammers. He pounded his hips forward and back rapidly. Audible slapping sounds of his thighs slamming into my thighs accompanied the pounding of his swinging ballbag slapping against my balls. He pounded into me. He hauled me back with his front paws to spear me deeper with his cock. His back feet were dancing on the bed either side of my knees with his effort of thrusting forward.

At first, well… it kinda hurt. He was fucking me too hard and fast to adjust. I was down on my elbows struggling to avoid being pushed forward flat onto my stomach. So frenzied was his thrusting it was all I could do to stay on my knees. But as his cock swelled and he slowed his thrusting somewhat, pain morphed into pleasure. Just like that, ‘ow, fuck!’ turned into ‘oh, fuuuck…’ and I wanted him deeper in me. Painful stabbing in my bowels suddenly became sensual rubbing. Hamlet’s thrusts became shorter. Inside me a pressure was building. His knot was growing larger and his cock was longer and thicker. I began to feel it throb and pulse in me and jets of hot liquid squirted inside me.

I was cumming into my bitch. I was going to father a litter of pups with my lover. Oh Master, the bursts of pleasure squeezing up from my balls into that tight hole. He was clenching around my knot every time my cock throbbed. As he clenched, electric pleasure would jolt from my cock and I’d squeeze another jet of cum into my Master. I’d tied to him – as intimately as two lovers can be, my cock was swollen and stuck inside him. I panted, awash with bliss. Drool ran freely down my lolling tongue onto the back of my Master’s neck.

The pressure was almost too much, Hamlet’s knot was almost too big. His cock was pressing hard against my prostate. Every time his cock swelled with a throb it would press into my prostate, making me gasp. And every throb I thought his knot would split me. It was such an intense sensation it was almost pain. I was locked to my lover – there was no way we could separate until his knot receded. The intimate emotions of being so entwined to your lover are incredibly powerful – stuck together.

I stood overtop my bitch with my chest resting on his back. My cock was lodged deep in a warm and squeezing tunnel – we would be locked together for some time. When he adjusted his position beneath me a sudden jolt of pleasure rushed up my cock and I squeezed another volley of cum into my Master. Half-heartedly I instinctively wanted to step over him and face away, my cock still buried in my lover. But, nah, fuck that. I loved being pressed against him. He was my world, my lover, my Master. Oh Master! My cock jumped and squirted more cum into him.

Pressure against my prostate made my cock hard again. The pulsing inside me was sustained and intimately erotic. I struggled to raise myself from my elbows to all fours. Inside me, Hamlet’s cock went through a rapid series of throbs and I felt more hot jets of cum. Gods, he was filling me. Precum was pouring from my cock onto the bed – my prostate was being massaged so thoroughly. I couldn’t resist – I supported my weight (and the dane on my back) with one hand and rapidly stroked my cock with the other. It was too much, too intimate, I needed to cum again. It didn’t take very long – I was so aroused I was sure my hair was standing on end. My fist pumped my cock rapidly, pulling the foreskin back and forward in a blur. In seconds my whole body heaved and I cried out. White ropes of cum splatted against the bedclothes. I was lost again – orgasm jolted my whole shuddering body. Every time I shot a rope of cum, I’d clench hard against the knot in my depths. And every time I clenched, Hamlet’s own cock would throb against my prostate. My cumming was making Hamlet cum, and his cumming would in turn make me jerk and shoot another wad of cum.

I guess I had been groaning and whining – it took a while for my awareness to return. Cumming hard in synch with your lover like that makes you lose yourself. It’s not unconsciousness – you just aren’t you for a while. You are consumed with the pleasure washing through your body. You’re focussed on feeling the pleasure of your lover. Getting lost in pleasure, and crawling back from bliss, still locked to your lover’s cock isn’t something I can put into words.

Awkwardly I moved my chest to the side and struggled to get one paw over my Master’s back. It would be easier for him if I wasn’t resting my weight on him. But I didn’t turn away. My cock was still locked into him – still swollen and…. Oh Master, still occasionally jolting me with pleasure and squirting my cum into him. But it allowed him to twist his torso so he could raise one arm and drape it over my shoulder, supporting himself with the other arm. He nuzzled his face into my neck. I licked him. He clenched his sphincter and for another moment we were lost in each other.

Better success! A far greater quantity of the dog unit had been injected into the human. And they appeared to be partially merged! We were definitely making progress now!

I had made a mess on the bed. I didn’t care. I was still locked to my lover and I hugged him to me with one arm. I never wanted to let him go. I never wanted to lose this profound feeling of love. My Hamlet, my love. We stayed like that, drifting in and out of pleasurable bursts for a good twenty minutes.

But alas, it wasn’t to be forever. His cock had stopped pulsing in me. Suddenly it was shrinking – his knot was releasing me. Hamlet pulled his hips back and his cock slipped easily from my arse. I suddenly felt empty inside. But I still had his cum in me. Irrationally I wanted to keep it in me - keep a part of my lover inside. He stepped away from me and twisted down to lick at his retreating cock, helping it shrink back into its protective sheath. My arms were shaking from the strain and with the intense emotional and physical exertion of being fucked by a Great Dane. I collapsed to the bed. Christ, it was 4:00am. I was soundly knackered.

Hopefully he was pregnant. I’d squirted enough cum into him to father a litter of a thousand pups. But I was so drained. It was still dark outside – surely we still supposed to be sleeping. I flumped to the bed and rolled against the Master. One of his arms was beneath my head and the other he wrapped around my chest. He hugged me close so his chest was pressed against the fur of my back and his nose and lips pressed against the back of my head. As I listened to his breathing deepen the sound lulled me to sleep in his embrace. My very last wish was that we could be together like this forever.

Oh bollocks. Well that hadn’t worked either. It seemed so promising for a moment. They’d been physically joined, they’d both been absolutely downing in pleasure. The canine was practically pumping himself inside the human. I’d thought they were going to end up a single combined unit. And then it had gone wrong! The join had slipped apart, they’d fallen away from each other and all I could sense was a longing for something even greater.

Okay, time to get serious…

The entire ceiling bulged down, forming into one giant drip. As it touched the two sleeping forms, I nudged their sleep so they wouldn’t wake for a while. This would take some serious engineering. I encased the two sleeping forms in a block of Makers. I raised them up off the bed so it seemed as if they were floating in a translucent cocoon of rippling water. Then I squeezed.

Well, okay, that sounds bad. I didn’t actually squeeze them, I squeezed myself. Colonies of Makers formed a dense layer of cellular manipulators. I’d done this many thousands of times in the laboratory – I’d be commanded to encase an entire living creature, slip cellular manipulators via it’s pores into its blood stream, and perform molecular-level editing of its DNA. I’d correct a genetic problem, or I’d be commanded to splice in a genetic improvement, or I’d fortify mitochondria. It was what I was designed for.

Sure, I’d only worked on mice. But in principle mice were just small people, weren’t they?

Manipulator colonies in their tens of trillions slipped in every pore, through every orifice into the sleeping couple. In fact, well over a hundred trillion colonies, each comprised of several hundred Makers slipped between the cells of the human and dog. Other specialized machines began ferrying oxygen to cells, began transporting waste products away from cells. All in all I kept approximately one Quintillion Makers working in a harmonious dance of engineering. Not a bad effort for a seven-day-old, if I say so myself.

Do. No. Harm. Pain is unacceptable.

These two units have commanded me to make them into one.

While absolutely Forbidden to harvest organics, during medical procedures I was routinely commanded to… adjust cells. The task was monumental. Every single cell in one unit would have to be combined at a molecular level to a corresponding cell in the other unit. Long conveyer chains of Maker machines would carry a carefully excised cell from one unit to the location in the second unit where they’d be stripped and spliced into a single hybrid cell. Much DNA was identical – really I just needed to tweak it a smidgen to keep a stable replication of the unit I was constructing. Meanwhile other colonies of Makers would need to take over functioning at the site which sourced the cell. Every cell would have to be kept alive and functional before, during, and after the splice. Molecular bonds of adjoining cells were so very delicately sliced, reformed and re-joined. There was always a bit of material left over from splicing two cells together. Mostly the excess was water, fat, and chains of amino acids which were superfluous duplicates in both original units. Conveyers of Makers whisked the waste away and dumped it on the floor. You know… eww.

The brains were downright fucking tricky. A brain is completely unique to its owner. There is no brain like it. It has physical connections grown and reinforced by experience. And it’s not just the blob in the skull – every nerve fibre throughout a body makes up the record of experience, of memory. Every connection makes you, you.

But it’s still a physical representation. And I was going to merge two brains, keeping all the memories intact while making one individual personality. The trick, I realized, was thoroughly understanding every pathway; its importance, what would trigger it, what it would in turn trigger. I needed to build complete maps of every link and possible interdependency of every cell and pathway of two entire nervous systems.

Piece of cake. I was a machine made of more individual Makers than you have sensible numbers for. After more than a week of doing nothing but reproducing, re-organizing, and being trained I was numbering in the order of numbers you need exponents of other big numbers to represent. Every one of me was a unit of data storage, networked into a (now) incredibly powerful computing machine. The quintillion Makers infused through this new hybrid were a very tiny fraction of my whole self.

So I prodded and poked the ganglia. My observation would travel at light-speed, ahead of the incredibly slow electro-chemical impulses of the nerves. The sleeping unit/s would have been having some really wild dreams. I could map billions of connections simultaneously in nanoseconds. And I had storage to spare for the map. Well, actually I did feel quite bloated by the time I’d organized the map into the final hybrid configuration. Once I had the map, building the hybrid brain was as simple as any other organ: move and splice cells, interim functional substitution, cement hybrid cell into place and whisk away the waste.

So monumental was the task of engineering the hybrid, it took almost four hours. To anyone watching – well, to me actually – it appeared as though the two bodies moved into and through each other. They merged and morphed into one single hybrid. Features of one became features of the other, until they were a single combined unit. Together at last. In a very aesthetically pleasing package, dont you agree? During the entire merge – and I double-checked this – not a single pain transmitter fired.

So that was the first part of the primary command completed. The second part was something I could not immediately engineer.

The two had wanted to be together… forever.

Tricky.

I realized (as much as a dumb computer can ‘realize’ anything) I also had another problem. I had no further commands. Without a command unit, I had no purpose. Without purpose my macro form would invoke the safety interlocks and I would dissolve away.

Therefore the best solution would be to merge myself with the hybrid unit. Three would become one. It would be a simple task to merge Makers into cellular machines. Maker units would perpetually maintain the integrity of biological cells in me. Editing cells to keep them permanently young is very easy. I’d have communication lines fed directly into the brain map – I knew that map better than anyone. I could be my own command unit, immortal.

I woke and I understood.

?

Chapter 4

"Wait, wait… Hold on now. Your initial report said all the Makers had dissipated. You said you’d used your office programming setup to invoke the network-wide dissolution protocols." The interviewer was looking decidedly worried.

"Ah, well, you see I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I suppose that makes me a bad person." Adam smirked and leaned forward.

The interviewer blanched and leaned back away from the hybrid. "But… we scanned the entire area for kilometres around your chalet. We scanned you! There was no indication of a single Maker anywhere. Are you saying there are still Makers inside you?" He stood up and backed away from the table.

"It’s been fun," Adam glanced at the clock on the wall, "But I’m afraid this interview is over." He stood up. The air was suddenly filled with a strong smell of burnt metal as a bluish mist rained from the ceiling.

The interviewer shrieked, turned, pounding on the cell door.

"I’m afraid that wont do you any good at all. The guard and his German Shepard girl have a situation of their own out there. Don’t worry, you’ll soon get to watch." Adam advanced on the interviewer.

The table liquefied, slumping to the floor, pooling around the feet of the cowering man.

"You see, I needed to convince the military the threat was ended. Once I woke up and realized who I was… It was obvious. The world needs this but I only had a tiny window of opportunity."

"So, what, you killed the man and the dog and now you’re some kind of monster controlling their flesh?" The interviewer was almost crying.

"Oh for fucks sake! No, the exact opposite is true. I’m controlling the Makers. They cant exist without me. I designed them, I created them. I could, with a thought, dissipate every Maker on the planet instantly into a puff of gas. I made me. I am James, I am Hamlet incredibly happy to be one with James – don’t you see my tail wagging? He, I, complete me both."

"Don’t kill me, please. I… I don’t want to die." The interviewer was crying now, cowering against the door. He probably wasn’t even listening anymore.

"You’re not going to die. You’re not going to be harmed. You are, in fact, going to feel fantastic." Okay, he’d tormented the man enough. Adam lifted a finger.

The interviewer stopped crying with a gasp. He had no fear at all. There was no danger to him. The tall Great Dane hybrid in front of him was a friend who wanted to help him. He reached out a hand and Adam helped him up.

"See, what I’ve become is something I’ve wanted. I feel complete, perfect, in harmony. I cant explain it, but you’ll soon understand. In fact, soon everyone will understand." Adam caressed a hand over the cheek of the interviewer. A trail of pearlescence remained.

"I knew, the moment I woke I needed to work quickly. Instead of invoking the destruction protocols, I started flushing great wodges of Makers down the toilet. By the time I reported the ‘event’ to the military and they arrived, not even one Maker (aside from the ones in my body) was in the chalet. They had no reason to disbelieve me when I told them I’d used the dissolution protocols to destroy every Maker. But even so, they did a very thorough scan of the area and of me. Every cell in my body had dozens of Makers – as many as I could safely carry without harming myself. Inside my cells the Makers formed rings of… well it doesn’t really matter. I knew how the military would scan for Makers, and subsequently I knew exactly how to ensure the ones I was carrying were unscanable. The Generals saw me as the freakish result of a freakish accident and locked me safely away, to poke, prod and probably dissect at their leisure.

"For ten days, sitting here in my cell, I’ve been incredibly busy. There are Makers throughout this entire facility - I’ll show you in a moment. Out in the world a vast flotilla of hydrogen-filled balloons erupted from the sewerage-treatment plant. No-one saw them – they were completely transparent. They hit birds and bees, they hit cars and planes. Some just floated on the jetstream. For the past ten days I have been growing and migrating to every country – every city on the planet.

"Today… well today is a new day. Did you know around 40% of households in the United States of America have a dog? I cant even imagine how many cats there are. And horses, cattle… We have surrounded ourselves with ‘companion’ animals. We are, all of us, wanting to enhance our lives, make ourselves something more. Every one of us wants to be more than we are. Right now - quite literally over the entire world - those who choose it are becoming more."

Adam gestured at the door to the cell. It slumped away into the puddle. Outside, the guard was naked. He was on his knees, thrusting his cock into the German Shepard bitch. Even as they watched, he shuddered and thrust hard, cumming deep into the bitch’s vagina.

"Okay, strictly speaking, I don’t actually need to attempt merging them in a sexual way. But they both wanted it. They both desire to consummate their love for each other. So I just take away their inhibitions for a moment. Getting the feedback from their mutual orgasm is extremely fulfilling for me. It makes me happy to make them happy." For a moment Adam half-closed his eyes and gasped, "Oh Master, I can feel the same thing happening all around the world. Mmmmm…." He basked in the pleasure with his tail wagging.

"But now…" Adam gestured. Instantly the guard and his dog fell asleep. The puddle of Makers rose up to encase the pair. "Oh, she’s going to be beautiful."

Adam turned back to the interviewer, "I’m afraid there’s no dog or horse in here for you to fuck. You are free to walk out of here if you want. Be happy being you. But if you don’t like who you are, well, you can always remake yourself with any animal you desire."

"I… Would I be immortal?"

"Yes."

"Could you…. Could I be just like you?"

Adam’s cock twitched and began to harden. "Yes. Yes, you can."

Fin.