All art used here are under fair use.
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Saturday, October 21, 2017
Eliminating Competition
You should know the disappearance of the CEO of ReInspire months ago,
who missed an important press conference presenting a novel therapy in
everyone’s rumors. Not many know how exactly it works, but that is far
less important than his whereabouts now. As you can guess, I am writing
to blow the whistle, and the secret is barely believable, even when I
recalled the whole affair.
To be sincere, I am employed by one of the large pharmaceutical companies- “Big Pharma” if you will- as one of the more senior members, though no longer when this comes out. This allows me to gain some access to the top management without being a member, and often some deals and decisions done under the table. The affair of ReInspire’s CEO (please name him in the coverage) is one of the darker ones.
Apologies for the long introduction. In one of the late audiences with my higher-up just before the CEO’s disappearance, he was aghast at how the new therapy would strongly undercut our sales on its conventional counterpart, and at how new start-up are changing the order of business landscapes. Now, he noted, even the sectors dominated by “Big” businesses are being slowly eroded. That was of course relevant to our company as a financial successful business, even when most of its fortunes are built on exploiting patients (and we know it without changing that). While slightly infuriated, he was mentally prepared for what he planned next.
Before discussing serious matters, he mentioned to me that he was seeking some spicing in his private life, since his girlfriends (He is supposed to be married, but has been flirting around) were all too dull by this point. This was the opposite of his public image as a professional and what I had in my mind, yet I did not question for him to continue. Now, after condemning the new start-up, he was directing some attacks onto its CEO- the one not found- and remarked “he is no good except for being an underling”. This seems innocent at first, but as he explained some depraved plan emerged. He concluded, “maybe our more novel therapy can be tested on him.”
Days later, after the CEO’s absence, I was summoned to one of the most remote laboratories to witness. What I threw behind my mind as a farce became real: behind the one-way glass, someone recognizable was bonded and tied to the chair, eyes covered and mouth gagged. Though with them obscuring a good part of his face, he was no one other than the missing one the public was wanting. Through some illegal way or another, my superior had his first step into dangerous territory. “As you see, this is not some kind of farce you believed. The plan is real, and he will certainly be what he should have been.”
Under his instruction laboratorians pinched him with a needle plugged into some liquid which I assumed to be the “novel therapy” he mentioned. I might be a bystander, but still this was morally objectionable and I had an urge to remove him from this. But I didn’t, my superior was there and I might be the next subject if I failed. As soon as the injection started, maybe from the irresistible pain, he was struggling more desperately, but then, the more he tried, his figure was more reduced. Most visible were a pair of protrusions forming on the chest and the hair extending behind the back, but not far below the shoulder, becoming blonde in color. It was not long before she fell stiff, likely from anesthetic working at the end of the process. By then, I knew he was gone.
“The main thing to do then is to train her as my new underling. I have hired some, I would say, professionals from Eastern Europe who should take care of her well.” This was too terrible to be true, I genuinely hoped, but the day just before myself writing this, there was a demented opportunity to observe the newly trained sex slave. She was obedient to every command he gave, as far as the wicked mind of the new master conceived, and performed all sexual positions to please her master.
I need to purge
my mind for writing this, even though without this, the heinous deeds
of my superior will never see the light. I have already submitted my
resignation and planned to leave the industry as far as possible,
possibly moving out of the US. For you, I beg to publicize this in the
coverage and investigate into all things related, and I should provide
you all that I know, even when a good part of this may be barely real-
not even I am sure of it.
All art used here are under fair use.
To be sincere, I am employed by one of the large pharmaceutical companies- “Big Pharma” if you will- as one of the more senior members, though no longer when this comes out. This allows me to gain some access to the top management without being a member, and often some deals and decisions done under the table. The affair of ReInspire’s CEO (please name him in the coverage) is one of the darker ones.
Apologies for the long introduction. In one of the late audiences with my higher-up just before the CEO’s disappearance, he was aghast at how the new therapy would strongly undercut our sales on its conventional counterpart, and at how new start-up are changing the order of business landscapes. Now, he noted, even the sectors dominated by “Big” businesses are being slowly eroded. That was of course relevant to our company as a financial successful business, even when most of its fortunes are built on exploiting patients (and we know it without changing that). While slightly infuriated, he was mentally prepared for what he planned next.
Before discussing serious matters, he mentioned to me that he was seeking some spicing in his private life, since his girlfriends (He is supposed to be married, but has been flirting around) were all too dull by this point. This was the opposite of his public image as a professional and what I had in my mind, yet I did not question for him to continue. Now, after condemning the new start-up, he was directing some attacks onto its CEO- the one not found- and remarked “he is no good except for being an underling”. This seems innocent at first, but as he explained some depraved plan emerged. He concluded, “maybe our more novel therapy can be tested on him.”
Days later, after the CEO’s absence, I was summoned to one of the most remote laboratories to witness. What I threw behind my mind as a farce became real: behind the one-way glass, someone recognizable was bonded and tied to the chair, eyes covered and mouth gagged. Though with them obscuring a good part of his face, he was no one other than the missing one the public was wanting. Through some illegal way or another, my superior had his first step into dangerous territory. “As you see, this is not some kind of farce you believed. The plan is real, and he will certainly be what he should have been.”
Under his instruction laboratorians pinched him with a needle plugged into some liquid which I assumed to be the “novel therapy” he mentioned. I might be a bystander, but still this was morally objectionable and I had an urge to remove him from this. But I didn’t, my superior was there and I might be the next subject if I failed. As soon as the injection started, maybe from the irresistible pain, he was struggling more desperately, but then, the more he tried, his figure was more reduced. Most visible were a pair of protrusions forming on the chest and the hair extending behind the back, but not far below the shoulder, becoming blonde in color. It was not long before she fell stiff, likely from anesthetic working at the end of the process. By then, I knew he was gone.
“The main thing to do then is to train her as my new underling. I have hired some, I would say, professionals from Eastern Europe who should take care of her well.” This was too terrible to be true, I genuinely hoped, but the day just before myself writing this, there was a demented opportunity to observe the newly trained sex slave. She was obedient to every command he gave, as far as the wicked mind of the new master conceived, and performed all sexual positions to please her master.
All art used here are under fair use.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Saturday, October 7, 2017
Tuesday, October 3, 2017
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
Friday, September 15, 2017
What Chant Practice?
All art used here are under fair use.
Thursday, September 14, 2017
Sunday, September 10, 2017
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
Saturday, August 26, 2017
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Monday, August 21, 2017
Monday, August 14, 2017
Saturday, August 12, 2017
Monday, August 7, 2017
Sunday, August 6, 2017
A Girl Found One Morning
Darkness. It pervades all that light cannot reach, and when the most
radiant light of all sets into the oblique side of the land, night
brings darkness. But as humans invented lighting, darkness may not reign
over the will of those toiling under a candle or lamp.
She sat on the top of a tree, patiently watching a suburb descending into slumber and lighting going out. She had always preferred darkness over light. Darkness is solemn and mystical, and if you see into it, it provides great depth where light cannot imitate. Darkness is a beauty unto itself, but not remotely light. Light may be radiant, but imperious and violent. She could not stay too long under light or it would erode her body, thinning her life until she was too weak.
She did not see why men would prefer having lights on in the night when it was rightful and bodily needed to rest, unlike her being more vibrant, though waning recently. In front of this house she faced, a white car pulled in and a tired man exited from the garage. He was optimal and she knew what he was good for.
“Wham!” I braked when my car hit something. I was freaking sure there was nothing in my view, not a pile of trash, not cats or dogs or birds or anything, just paved road and nothing else. Then how could something appeared or ran in without me seeing?
No matter what, I needed to go out to see what’s got hit… Damn, it’s a girl! Someone probably going to high or middle, but me hitting her into fainting and lying here. I wonder how much I would need to pay her family for medical expenses. At least my car was barely scratched so I could save a bit on repair.
For the girl in question, She was just brunette and long-haired, nothing notable about her looks except being a bit pale. The dress was crimson and lined, she wore a white shirt under that, nothing quite unusual. Good thing she didn’t seemed injured or bleeding, or I might get into a lawsuit with her parents. Her frailness got me into trouble, but there was no time for me to moan. Some people were already filming the whole thing on phone, so to clear my name I called the cops to tell them of the found.
After dropping her in the nearest substation I hurried back to my car and returned on my route to work. The cops would know what to do with her, sending her to the nearest hospital and finding her parents, I comforted myself. I was almost late when I arrived at the bicycle company, but being one of the partners I could give myself some leeway in well, a lot of things. Not that I wanted to be lazy, but accidents always happen.
I almost forgot her at the end of my day, being overwhelmed by business and design, until I arrived at my car for the trip back home. Maybe I could call the substation for some of my questions about her.
The sheriff told me that she was fine in the hospital, but there’s a problem: they had no idea where she’s from, and even in that state it was almost useless to talk with her, mostly in coma or too weak to talk. So, there was almost nothing everyone could know about her at this point. If I had no idea and I couldn’t help her in any way, why not just forgot about her and focus more on my own life?
Some of the nights I dropped my work to grab a few beer with a few of my pals, that’s a good way to keep up with all the stress. Beside us was some other guy with pints of beer waiting for someone else. I remembered him used to drink with a few others, but today no one showed up, only him, and he was impatiently calling someone. “What’s up with him?” I asked Sean who knew a lot of others drinking here. “His drinking pals disappeared one by one, and he is trying to investigate with the only one of them left. Maybe he is out be luck.” Soon he was frustrated and left the bar. “Let’s hope he can have some no-so-bad news,” I wished.
“By the way, speaking of meeting people, weeks ago at the morning I hit someone.” To this Sean affectionately said, “Who did you hit? How this went?” “She was a middle or high school girl that’s quite forgettable. I almost forget her face except she’s brunette.” “A school girl, it’s a big deal. How did you deal with her?” “Sent her to the cops. Either she’s still in hospital or she’s back to her dorm or home or something.”
Sean wasn’t without idea, so he suggested me to find her and know her state. That way, I could also reconcile with her family if she had one. This sounded good on paper, but hard to do when her identity was still a question for me. I tried to call the cops, but they still had no hints of her identity. Actually, they claimed, she refused to talk with any of the cops after she’d recovered.
Worse, she left when someone claiming to be her boyfriend took her out. In those cases the hospital won’t trust the guy, but no one understood the decision. It’s doubtful if he’s even her boyfriend or not, since the next day someone bearing a likeness of him was found dead in the woods by hikers. No indication of causes of death, just a great mystery. Whoever the murderer was, it was not her, the weak defenseless girl.
Luck came to me on another morning, when I saw her walking to school. At first I didn’t recognize her, her face being that forgettable, and not until she called to me. “You… You… are you… the one… who hit me?” While she could barely speak, I remembered. She was the exact same girl, from the hair to the pale skin, to the ruby dress. I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating from hour of night work or something, but she was definitely here. Strangely for the suburb, she wasn’t traveling on on a car or living in a dorm, so there was a chance of she running in some problem sooner or later, given she was this frail and pale.
“Yes, it was me, but it’s an accident. Are you better now?” She nodded even though she was barely healthier than in the accident. “Don’t seem to be so.” I knew that’s not a compliment, but seeing her being like this, I could help myself. “Do you want to have a ride?” She nodded again, this time a bit harder.
En route I tried to interact with her but she was still quite unresponsive. If she still treated me as a stranger, she won’t be on my car. So she had to be tired in the morning. “You OK?” “Fine,” she only said. So far, of anything I asked, I knew she was called Rosa, and she, being a recent exchange student, lived with a friend she knew online. “Why not take your host’s car and instead walk on feet?” No answer. “Where do you come from?” She said “Europe,” without giving any country. Many other stuff I asked, and no reply. Not sure if she didn’t what to reply or she’s still too tired.
“Here you are, the high school you’re going.” “Thank you,” she left the car and moved towards the compound, almost fainting in the short walk. “Poor girl,” I thought.
Maybe Rosa took my advice and went to the school with her friend, but after that I hadn’t seen her for some time. I didn’t expect to know a lot of her by these 2 encounters, but whenever I remembered her, she was shrouded in secrecy. Her look was plain, but the face seemed distant. Being silent also helped the mystery without letting me know more of her.
If she hadn’t came one night, I would forget her. When I opened the door, I could see her standing there, in the same crimson dress as before. Her appearance was surprising to me- I just hit her once and drove her the other time, and no more. “Sorry for being awkward, but I need to thank you. All those time here I’ve been walking to school. Usually I’m very tired at the morning, so I often faint in the middle of the way. At least I know that now,” she was much more fluent now, far from when I first met her. “Thank you for coming, but it’s me who need to visit you and say sorry.”
I wanted to visit her friend to know more about her, but in the end she stayed at my home. When I asked her about her friend, she said, “Do you think she want to know you?” To dodge me. She was much attentive then at first, at least answering some of my questions, but remained much more of her to herself than anyone would to a new friend. Well, I still didn’t know about her family or home. Stranger still, she suddenly had an interest in me, or maybe a crush, while I was still keeping her at arm’s length, or else I couldn’t her abrupt eagerness from only meeting me twice. Despite this she was amicable and most importantly, willing to forgive me for that accident.
Since that day, I was more and more worn out. At first it was like a small flu that didn’t stop me from working, just a bit less efficient than usual, then dizziness and tiredness set in to hamper my productivity. I fainted a few times and took a few leaves for those. It intensified until I had to resign from work, since I might die if I hadn’t stopped. My life was drained away bit by bit every night, waking up every morning worse off, and I was not sure if I got any sickness or it was related with Rosa. But every night I dreamed of her- not that I was attracted to her, but she was coming here in the dreams from outside the window, biting me and sucking my blood from the neck. It went to the point when my senses took the dream to be real- they were too blurred at that point to be any clearer, and that meant I was very ill.
Soon I was going to hospital with the help of Sean to find a cure for the sickness. But in the night before I was going to be hospitalized, I was wide awake and saw her leaping in for one last time. This time, she approached me without making a pain in my neck, but I felt I was lifted up from the bed and out from the window. She was certainly too weak to lift me, but now she had superhuman strength from nowhere. I was no sharp-minded, but I was sure I was dying when my hallucinations went to this length.
In this dream I was penetrating forests, shifting along freeways, leaping through states or I would had myself believed, and I ended up in a big hall- I couldn’t see clearly. When I was wider awake, I found myself sitting on a bench and Rosa besides me.
“You… You… what do you want to do to me?” Without any strength I tried to scream, but then there was no answer. Or the answer was her face, still nondescript, but now with bright eyes shining as the eclipsed moon, and to my disbelief, a pair of pointy ears. Her face… scarring me made my sickness go away, but something worse was upon me. Or my neck.
It was the same pinch in the neck again, then my vitality was drawn from all my parts… through vessels and veins… flowing out from my body into her… What was different now was that… when she had drawn… only bit by bit… everything… was sucked… away… now… cold…
Now… blood… entered… my vein… but it… was not mine… Whose could it be?
It was hers, of course… as more and more of her life was given to me, my body felt intense pain, my cells reacting as they should from the blood invasion. But mine human cells was inferior to her vicious blood, so more and more of my cells was now destroyed… no, transformed… no, enhanced into better cells in her likeness.
It started from the veins and vessels, then as the capillaries go, more and more parts of my body was rewritten, maybe from my DNA. Then real physical changes started appearing. My body hairs retracted into my body as my skin became paler and more virgin-like, as if bathed in pure blood. My frame loosened into something matching Rosa’s with shorter and finer limbs, but now more reinforced than I had been. Smaller thighs and slimmer waist was lighter and more suiting for what I would become, and a decent bust will certainly help luring. With a bit of moaning in my new high voice, Night-like hair shot out from the old blonde hair and reaching as long as hers.
The new form was complete with the flower on my head and my new lingerie like outfit. Now, Rosa looked at me again with her eyes, now knowing our purpose here with the telepathy. I was to pretend to be her friend receiving her here, and we would then prey for more in the local high. Those were what we do as vampire girls.
We left the hall and transported ourselves back to “my” new home, now refurnished, and planned forward to our next prey… The original guy had a friend called Sean, and that would be a good staring point for us.
Sean opened his sick friend’s door and entered the house to retrieve him, only to find a setting vastly more girly than his friend’s. “Hello? Anyone here? Strange, he had no girl, just himself living here. It was the right door number. Where’s him? I got to call Sam and search for our missing ones.” Sam’s number led to some girl also called Sam, not his friend, and that Sam was in that runaway hit idol group Sean had seen on the web. “No, fuck, fuck!” He cursed as 2 girls appeared behind him, one brunette and one deep blue-haired.
She sat on the top of a tree, patiently watching a suburb descending into slumber and lighting going out. She had always preferred darkness over light. Darkness is solemn and mystical, and if you see into it, it provides great depth where light cannot imitate. Darkness is a beauty unto itself, but not remotely light. Light may be radiant, but imperious and violent. She could not stay too long under light or it would erode her body, thinning her life until she was too weak.
She did not see why men would prefer having lights on in the night when it was rightful and bodily needed to rest, unlike her being more vibrant, though waning recently. In front of this house she faced, a white car pulled in and a tired man exited from the garage. He was optimal and she knew what he was good for.
“Wham!” I braked when my car hit something. I was freaking sure there was nothing in my view, not a pile of trash, not cats or dogs or birds or anything, just paved road and nothing else. Then how could something appeared or ran in without me seeing?
No matter what, I needed to go out to see what’s got hit… Damn, it’s a girl! Someone probably going to high or middle, but me hitting her into fainting and lying here. I wonder how much I would need to pay her family for medical expenses. At least my car was barely scratched so I could save a bit on repair.
For the girl in question, She was just brunette and long-haired, nothing notable about her looks except being a bit pale. The dress was crimson and lined, she wore a white shirt under that, nothing quite unusual. Good thing she didn’t seemed injured or bleeding, or I might get into a lawsuit with her parents. Her frailness got me into trouble, but there was no time for me to moan. Some people were already filming the whole thing on phone, so to clear my name I called the cops to tell them of the found.
After dropping her in the nearest substation I hurried back to my car and returned on my route to work. The cops would know what to do with her, sending her to the nearest hospital and finding her parents, I comforted myself. I was almost late when I arrived at the bicycle company, but being one of the partners I could give myself some leeway in well, a lot of things. Not that I wanted to be lazy, but accidents always happen.
I almost forgot her at the end of my day, being overwhelmed by business and design, until I arrived at my car for the trip back home. Maybe I could call the substation for some of my questions about her.
The sheriff told me that she was fine in the hospital, but there’s a problem: they had no idea where she’s from, and even in that state it was almost useless to talk with her, mostly in coma or too weak to talk. So, there was almost nothing everyone could know about her at this point. If I had no idea and I couldn’t help her in any way, why not just forgot about her and focus more on my own life?
Some of the nights I dropped my work to grab a few beer with a few of my pals, that’s a good way to keep up with all the stress. Beside us was some other guy with pints of beer waiting for someone else. I remembered him used to drink with a few others, but today no one showed up, only him, and he was impatiently calling someone. “What’s up with him?” I asked Sean who knew a lot of others drinking here. “His drinking pals disappeared one by one, and he is trying to investigate with the only one of them left. Maybe he is out be luck.” Soon he was frustrated and left the bar. “Let’s hope he can have some no-so-bad news,” I wished.
“By the way, speaking of meeting people, weeks ago at the morning I hit someone.” To this Sean affectionately said, “Who did you hit? How this went?” “She was a middle or high school girl that’s quite forgettable. I almost forget her face except she’s brunette.” “A school girl, it’s a big deal. How did you deal with her?” “Sent her to the cops. Either she’s still in hospital or she’s back to her dorm or home or something.”
Sean wasn’t without idea, so he suggested me to find her and know her state. That way, I could also reconcile with her family if she had one. This sounded good on paper, but hard to do when her identity was still a question for me. I tried to call the cops, but they still had no hints of her identity. Actually, they claimed, she refused to talk with any of the cops after she’d recovered.
Worse, she left when someone claiming to be her boyfriend took her out. In those cases the hospital won’t trust the guy, but no one understood the decision. It’s doubtful if he’s even her boyfriend or not, since the next day someone bearing a likeness of him was found dead in the woods by hikers. No indication of causes of death, just a great mystery. Whoever the murderer was, it was not her, the weak defenseless girl.
Luck came to me on another morning, when I saw her walking to school. At first I didn’t recognize her, her face being that forgettable, and not until she called to me. “You… You… are you… the one… who hit me?” While she could barely speak, I remembered. She was the exact same girl, from the hair to the pale skin, to the ruby dress. I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating from hour of night work or something, but she was definitely here. Strangely for the suburb, she wasn’t traveling on on a car or living in a dorm, so there was a chance of she running in some problem sooner or later, given she was this frail and pale.
“Yes, it was me, but it’s an accident. Are you better now?” She nodded even though she was barely healthier than in the accident. “Don’t seem to be so.” I knew that’s not a compliment, but seeing her being like this, I could help myself. “Do you want to have a ride?” She nodded again, this time a bit harder.
En route I tried to interact with her but she was still quite unresponsive. If she still treated me as a stranger, she won’t be on my car. So she had to be tired in the morning. “You OK?” “Fine,” she only said. So far, of anything I asked, I knew she was called Rosa, and she, being a recent exchange student, lived with a friend she knew online. “Why not take your host’s car and instead walk on feet?” No answer. “Where do you come from?” She said “Europe,” without giving any country. Many other stuff I asked, and no reply. Not sure if she didn’t what to reply or she’s still too tired.
“Here you are, the high school you’re going.” “Thank you,” she left the car and moved towards the compound, almost fainting in the short walk. “Poor girl,” I thought.
Maybe Rosa took my advice and went to the school with her friend, but after that I hadn’t seen her for some time. I didn’t expect to know a lot of her by these 2 encounters, but whenever I remembered her, she was shrouded in secrecy. Her look was plain, but the face seemed distant. Being silent also helped the mystery without letting me know more of her.
If she hadn’t came one night, I would forget her. When I opened the door, I could see her standing there, in the same crimson dress as before. Her appearance was surprising to me- I just hit her once and drove her the other time, and no more. “Sorry for being awkward, but I need to thank you. All those time here I’ve been walking to school. Usually I’m very tired at the morning, so I often faint in the middle of the way. At least I know that now,” she was much more fluent now, far from when I first met her. “Thank you for coming, but it’s me who need to visit you and say sorry.”
I wanted to visit her friend to know more about her, but in the end she stayed at my home. When I asked her about her friend, she said, “Do you think she want to know you?” To dodge me. She was much attentive then at first, at least answering some of my questions, but remained much more of her to herself than anyone would to a new friend. Well, I still didn’t know about her family or home. Stranger still, she suddenly had an interest in me, or maybe a crush, while I was still keeping her at arm’s length, or else I couldn’t her abrupt eagerness from only meeting me twice. Despite this she was amicable and most importantly, willing to forgive me for that accident.
Since that day, I was more and more worn out. At first it was like a small flu that didn’t stop me from working, just a bit less efficient than usual, then dizziness and tiredness set in to hamper my productivity. I fainted a few times and took a few leaves for those. It intensified until I had to resign from work, since I might die if I hadn’t stopped. My life was drained away bit by bit every night, waking up every morning worse off, and I was not sure if I got any sickness or it was related with Rosa. But every night I dreamed of her- not that I was attracted to her, but she was coming here in the dreams from outside the window, biting me and sucking my blood from the neck. It went to the point when my senses took the dream to be real- they were too blurred at that point to be any clearer, and that meant I was very ill.
Soon I was going to hospital with the help of Sean to find a cure for the sickness. But in the night before I was going to be hospitalized, I was wide awake and saw her leaping in for one last time. This time, she approached me without making a pain in my neck, but I felt I was lifted up from the bed and out from the window. She was certainly too weak to lift me, but now she had superhuman strength from nowhere. I was no sharp-minded, but I was sure I was dying when my hallucinations went to this length.
In this dream I was penetrating forests, shifting along freeways, leaping through states or I would had myself believed, and I ended up in a big hall- I couldn’t see clearly. When I was wider awake, I found myself sitting on a bench and Rosa besides me.
“You… You… what do you want to do to me?” Without any strength I tried to scream, but then there was no answer. Or the answer was her face, still nondescript, but now with bright eyes shining as the eclipsed moon, and to my disbelief, a pair of pointy ears. Her face… scarring me made my sickness go away, but something worse was upon me. Or my neck.
It was the same pinch in the neck again, then my vitality was drawn from all my parts… through vessels and veins… flowing out from my body into her… What was different now was that… when she had drawn… only bit by bit… everything… was sucked… away… now… cold…
Now… blood… entered… my vein… but it… was not mine… Whose could it be?
It was hers, of course… as more and more of her life was given to me, my body felt intense pain, my cells reacting as they should from the blood invasion. But mine human cells was inferior to her vicious blood, so more and more of my cells was now destroyed… no, transformed… no, enhanced into better cells in her likeness.
It started from the veins and vessels, then as the capillaries go, more and more parts of my body was rewritten, maybe from my DNA. Then real physical changes started appearing. My body hairs retracted into my body as my skin became paler and more virgin-like, as if bathed in pure blood. My frame loosened into something matching Rosa’s with shorter and finer limbs, but now more reinforced than I had been. Smaller thighs and slimmer waist was lighter and more suiting for what I would become, and a decent bust will certainly help luring. With a bit of moaning in my new high voice, Night-like hair shot out from the old blonde hair and reaching as long as hers.
The new form was complete with the flower on my head and my new lingerie like outfit. Now, Rosa looked at me again with her eyes, now knowing our purpose here with the telepathy. I was to pretend to be her friend receiving her here, and we would then prey for more in the local high. Those were what we do as vampire girls.
We left the hall and transported ourselves back to “my” new home, now refurnished, and planned forward to our next prey… The original guy had a friend called Sean, and that would be a good staring point for us.
Sean opened his sick friend’s door and entered the house to retrieve him, only to find a setting vastly more girly than his friend’s. “Hello? Anyone here? Strange, he had no girl, just himself living here. It was the right door number. Where’s him? I got to call Sam and search for our missing ones.” Sam’s number led to some girl also called Sam, not his friend, and that Sam was in that runaway hit idol group Sean had seen on the web. “No, fuck, fuck!” He cursed as 2 girls appeared behind him, one brunette and one deep blue-haired.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
Saturday, July 29, 2017
Tuesday, July 25, 2017
Sunday, July 23, 2017
Saturday, July 22, 2017
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Monday, July 10, 2017
Saturday, July 8, 2017
Thursday, July 6, 2017
Monday, July 3, 2017
A Hawaiian Vacation
July 4
We arrived at Honolulu today on independence day and there would be fireworks tonight. It would be the first time my 2 girls saw fireworks that big and they would be entertained as much as thrilled, very unforgettable for them.
Arriving at the airport I hired a local guide by the name of Carol. She was a hippie fashioning herself in a cool way, but still she claimed to be an experienced guide and had visited many spots here. I had no way to be sure, but guide or not, I needed to relax.
At least she was be to find a good 1959 Cadillac Eldorado for us. This way, I could drive around the islands like what my wife suggested, and know more about the local sights while Carol introduced the scenery en route.
Not much was done today save for driving around Oahu. settling in the hotel room, not one of the best, but good enough for our trip here. After some rest, we went out to see the fireworks, and my girls were at awe at how spectacular the performance was. We had a magnificent start for our days here, and it was going to be a pleasurable vacation for my family and myself. I hoped everything would be great for my family and I would get some quality time-off from my work.
July 5
I woke up and found myself an inch shorter, and I was now 6’2” instead of 6’3” originally. I was not sure how I could shrink, but then, nothing else changed on my appearance and no one in my family noticed. I was reasonably startled, but then, I should find a doctor when the vacation was over.
For today, we went to the Waikiki where my girls played with the pristine seawater and we, the couple, lie on beach chairs, feeling the soft and refreshing sea breeze and listening to the waves. A clean break from the months of toil in the plant, when long build-up of stress met some relaxation. I threw any thoughts of me shrinking away and embraced the sunshine.
July 6
I shrank another 2 inches, and I barely reached 6’. My frame was less muscular, and somehow my chest and butt was starting to inflate. My wife woke up and noticed my hairs growing to the shoulders, and was quite surprised. She didn’t knew what was happening, but then neither did I and I couldn’t explain very well. How could I have seen it coming? In spite of that, since the changes were now visible to someone careful enough to observe, we were starting to be concerned about my own changes. That spoiled a bit of our vacation, but still our girls didn’t notice those changes.
Anyway we went to some interesting spots, trying to forget the situation I was in. Though trying hard to escape the fact, we eventually met a Kahuna. Carol explained that he was a witch doctor in the local culture, and the knowledgable in the field of magic and supernatural, especially those occurring here.
I thought, “he could have pulled me out of all those changes and returned me to my former self, so why not asked him for help,” and I inquired him about my future. After some deep thoughts and calculations on his side, he then said outright, “You may be seeing the most profound changes in your future, namely on your body.”
I knew partly what he meant, but then, not fully. I asked where the changes were heading or if there were any ways to stop and revert them, but the Kahuna had no idea. He said he had never seen something like this, and mine was the first case in his or his ancestors’ life to see something like this happening on myself. He was not of any help, but at least, after a few days, I should visit him and deal with the results.
July 7
It was worse today: 3 inches more and now it was 5’9”. The skin was a lot smoother and the clothes I had bought no longer fit well. They were all hanging on my body or sliding for being to loose. The hair now reached below my forming breasts and I needed my wife to tie it into some style she’d seen somewhere in a magazine- I was not into those styles, and the hair made me a queer to others.
Every part of my body were much slimmer now, my bust was sprawling out of control, and I appeared closed enough to a woman. Now even my girls had noticed my changes, and in fact my girls thought they’d lost their father, yelling at me as if I was some stranger intruding into their family. Quite some people were looking at us and thinking that we were lesbians, giving us a weird face or simply a stare.
I knew I should stay indoors, but we had to buy some women’s clothes for myself to, since my old clothes no longer fitted. A clinic visit and the doctor claimed everything was fine. He actually thought I was always a woman and doubted if I had fake memories of being a man. I had to find the Kahuna tomorrow. Today we were in no mood for any visits and we mostly stayed at the hotel, worrying the future of us. I really hoped things would be better later on.
July 8
I was down to 5’5”, and now I was completely a woman: I was speaking with a high-pitched voice and my groin was completely feminine, without a sign of anything masculinity existing anywhere. While the damage was done, I would be stabilising.
My mind had also changed: I was no longer attracted to my wife, since I was now a woman, and all those desires at “my” wife now seemed disgusting. That was certainly the beginnings for a divorce, and we had a hard time deciding how the family would break up and what should the cover-up be. Finally, we had decided that the two girls would follow her, and she would claim that my old self was killed in an accident, the details she would think of later when needed.
I would be doing the rest on my own, setting up my new identity- and that was the least of my worries. Since the old me was gone, I need to find a work from nought and things would be rather harsh for me, Though that would be for later when we got back.
My ex-wife, now my close friend, tried lying to the girls on what happened, but that was difficult since they witnessed the changes first-hand. I added in my own, but these didn’t help. In their instincts there were some hidden sense of what really happened, but they weren’t conscious of it. That ended in them crying for their father to be back, saying that someone had taken him and placed a woman in his place.
Certainly, I would visit the Kahuna tomorrow to deal with my state.
July 9
Things did stabilise since the changes were complete. We kept up the lies to Carol, and not really knowing the truth she took it completely, seeing that we’d come here without the husband at all.
The Kahuna was confused when I stated my old identity, and he hardly believed that I was really the one who visited him. In fact, it seemed that he had forgotten my visit 2 days ago, saying that he had no business that day. How could I be cured when the only help saw no problem with me, and forgot the existence of my problems? It seemed that I was beyond help on changing myself back.
July 10
The reality changed completely, and only my ex-wife remembered vaguely anything about my past identity, alongside a new set of memories based on my new identity, more vivid and real than made up. She was as confused as I were when Carol asked my ex-wife, “how was you widowed?” To my surprise, my ex-wife responded as if I wasn’t her husband, and described the death of her husband.
By this stage, no one remembered my old identity and investigate the change, so I would never know why I changed and what entity did the change when the changes never were.
July 11
The last day of the vacation with my old friend and her 2 girls, the first time she was so pleased after the death of her husband in an industrial accident. Oddly, I clearly remembered the life her husband, despite never living his life, but then, maybe I was too gripped by his death. I couldn’t know for sure.
I drove the car back to the airport with my friend and our guide Carol, who was reliable and quirky despite our first impression of her being mediocre. Halfway through the freeway, Carol stopped us to a request of taking my friend’s 2 girls out for the beach. She said, “that was the best sand I had seen in my life.” We allowed her to the girls, and my friend left the car to watch them playing around.
Then I leaned over and said, “I could remember the life of your husband well, and he was a responsible man, focused on both work and family. It is bad for you to lose such a great husband,” my friend smiled, and sipping from the cup of coffee, she said, “this trip is enough to forget the pain of my husband, and we can start again after this trip.”
We thanked Carol and boarded the plane back to San Francisco, where we would take trains back in the interior. When I’m back I will face my class again, and that was quite pressuring even for me.
All art used here are under fair use.
We arrived at Honolulu today on independence day and there would be fireworks tonight. It would be the first time my 2 girls saw fireworks that big and they would be entertained as much as thrilled, very unforgettable for them.
Arriving at the airport I hired a local guide by the name of Carol. She was a hippie fashioning herself in a cool way, but still she claimed to be an experienced guide and had visited many spots here. I had no way to be sure, but guide or not, I needed to relax.
At least she was be to find a good 1959 Cadillac Eldorado for us. This way, I could drive around the islands like what my wife suggested, and know more about the local sights while Carol introduced the scenery en route.
Not much was done today save for driving around Oahu. settling in the hotel room, not one of the best, but good enough for our trip here. After some rest, we went out to see the fireworks, and my girls were at awe at how spectacular the performance was. We had a magnificent start for our days here, and it was going to be a pleasurable vacation for my family and myself. I hoped everything would be great for my family and I would get some quality time-off from my work.
July 5
I woke up and found myself an inch shorter, and I was now 6’2” instead of 6’3” originally. I was not sure how I could shrink, but then, nothing else changed on my appearance and no one in my family noticed. I was reasonably startled, but then, I should find a doctor when the vacation was over.
For today, we went to the Waikiki where my girls played with the pristine seawater and we, the couple, lie on beach chairs, feeling the soft and refreshing sea breeze and listening to the waves. A clean break from the months of toil in the plant, when long build-up of stress met some relaxation. I threw any thoughts of me shrinking away and embraced the sunshine.
July 6
I shrank another 2 inches, and I barely reached 6’. My frame was less muscular, and somehow my chest and butt was starting to inflate. My wife woke up and noticed my hairs growing to the shoulders, and was quite surprised. She didn’t knew what was happening, but then neither did I and I couldn’t explain very well. How could I have seen it coming? In spite of that, since the changes were now visible to someone careful enough to observe, we were starting to be concerned about my own changes. That spoiled a bit of our vacation, but still our girls didn’t notice those changes.
Anyway we went to some interesting spots, trying to forget the situation I was in. Though trying hard to escape the fact, we eventually met a Kahuna. Carol explained that he was a witch doctor in the local culture, and the knowledgable in the field of magic and supernatural, especially those occurring here.
I thought, “he could have pulled me out of all those changes and returned me to my former self, so why not asked him for help,” and I inquired him about my future. After some deep thoughts and calculations on his side, he then said outright, “You may be seeing the most profound changes in your future, namely on your body.”
I knew partly what he meant, but then, not fully. I asked where the changes were heading or if there were any ways to stop and revert them, but the Kahuna had no idea. He said he had never seen something like this, and mine was the first case in his or his ancestors’ life to see something like this happening on myself. He was not of any help, but at least, after a few days, I should visit him and deal with the results.
July 7
It was worse today: 3 inches more and now it was 5’9”. The skin was a lot smoother and the clothes I had bought no longer fit well. They were all hanging on my body or sliding for being to loose. The hair now reached below my forming breasts and I needed my wife to tie it into some style she’d seen somewhere in a magazine- I was not into those styles, and the hair made me a queer to others.
Every part of my body were much slimmer now, my bust was sprawling out of control, and I appeared closed enough to a woman. Now even my girls had noticed my changes, and in fact my girls thought they’d lost their father, yelling at me as if I was some stranger intruding into their family. Quite some people were looking at us and thinking that we were lesbians, giving us a weird face or simply a stare.
I knew I should stay indoors, but we had to buy some women’s clothes for myself to, since my old clothes no longer fitted. A clinic visit and the doctor claimed everything was fine. He actually thought I was always a woman and doubted if I had fake memories of being a man. I had to find the Kahuna tomorrow. Today we were in no mood for any visits and we mostly stayed at the hotel, worrying the future of us. I really hoped things would be better later on.
July 8
I was down to 5’5”, and now I was completely a woman: I was speaking with a high-pitched voice and my groin was completely feminine, without a sign of anything masculinity existing anywhere. While the damage was done, I would be stabilising.
My mind had also changed: I was no longer attracted to my wife, since I was now a woman, and all those desires at “my” wife now seemed disgusting. That was certainly the beginnings for a divorce, and we had a hard time deciding how the family would break up and what should the cover-up be. Finally, we had decided that the two girls would follow her, and she would claim that my old self was killed in an accident, the details she would think of later when needed.
I would be doing the rest on my own, setting up my new identity- and that was the least of my worries. Since the old me was gone, I need to find a work from nought and things would be rather harsh for me, Though that would be for later when we got back.
My ex-wife, now my close friend, tried lying to the girls on what happened, but that was difficult since they witnessed the changes first-hand. I added in my own, but these didn’t help. In their instincts there were some hidden sense of what really happened, but they weren’t conscious of it. That ended in them crying for their father to be back, saying that someone had taken him and placed a woman in his place.
Certainly, I would visit the Kahuna tomorrow to deal with my state.
July 9
Things did stabilise since the changes were complete. We kept up the lies to Carol, and not really knowing the truth she took it completely, seeing that we’d come here without the husband at all.
The Kahuna was confused when I stated my old identity, and he hardly believed that I was really the one who visited him. In fact, it seemed that he had forgotten my visit 2 days ago, saying that he had no business that day. How could I be cured when the only help saw no problem with me, and forgot the existence of my problems? It seemed that I was beyond help on changing myself back.
July 10
The reality changed completely, and only my ex-wife remembered vaguely anything about my past identity, alongside a new set of memories based on my new identity, more vivid and real than made up. She was as confused as I were when Carol asked my ex-wife, “how was you widowed?” To my surprise, my ex-wife responded as if I wasn’t her husband, and described the death of her husband.
By this stage, no one remembered my old identity and investigate the change, so I would never know why I changed and what entity did the change when the changes never were.
July 11
The last day of the vacation with my old friend and her 2 girls, the first time she was so pleased after the death of her husband in an industrial accident. Oddly, I clearly remembered the life her husband, despite never living his life, but then, maybe I was too gripped by his death. I couldn’t know for sure.
I drove the car back to the airport with my friend and our guide Carol, who was reliable and quirky despite our first impression of her being mediocre. Halfway through the freeway, Carol stopped us to a request of taking my friend’s 2 girls out for the beach. She said, “that was the best sand I had seen in my life.” We allowed her to the girls, and my friend left the car to watch them playing around.
Then I leaned over and said, “I could remember the life of your husband well, and he was a responsible man, focused on both work and family. It is bad for you to lose such a great husband,” my friend smiled, and sipping from the cup of coffee, she said, “this trip is enough to forget the pain of my husband, and we can start again after this trip.”
We thanked Carol and boarded the plane back to San Francisco, where we would take trains back in the interior. When I’m back I will face my class again, and that was quite pressuring even for me.
All art used here are under fair use.
Sunday, July 2, 2017
Friday, June 30, 2017
A Tale of 2 Megumins
An avid weeaboo, Josh knew many anime girls of various personalities and powers, but his true love was Katou Megumi of Saenai Heroine no Sodatekata.
Among all those queers, follies, the overpowered and the overrated, Megumi is the most modest of all, possessing little attractiveness compared to anyone else, yet she had won the heart of Josh by simply being mundane, and exemplary at the same time:
While there are lolis and grown-ups with oversized breasts or minimal breasts, in Josh’s eyes, only Megumin (as many affectionately call her) embodies the best size; her body shape, mature but not entirely, is also what made Kashima popular in comparison with her child-like face; Megumin had only plain black hair and amber eyes, not any other colors that blinded Josh.
The icing on it all is certainly the famous but simple outfit (you can see in the preview picture), the one Megumin was seen on the street, that made Josh attracted to her.
He surrounded himself with Megumin posters, figures of Megumin, and the official dakimakura, besides other anime collectibles that made his room seem close to Melonpan, the famous Swiss otaku, but Josh treated his collection in a saner way, only imagining Megumin to be his girlfriend and lived with her. In his mind he never wanted to disappoint Megumin for she was his love and she was his life.
When the Megumin chatting app was out, many rushed to download it, and Josh was no exception to chase the chance of dating her. In the app there was a 3D model of Megumin which you can chat with. While others ditched the app after some time and out of their fading eagerness, Josh kept on playing to interact with his love.
Megumin was someone he wanted to be real: Not just cosplay level real, but a real person with the identical personality and mind. Something many had dreamt, but no one had realized for it being impossible to break the 4th wall. Only if she could travel to this world or I could get there, Josh fantasised.
As he fantasied of Katou Megumi being real at night, a notification from his phone broke his flow of thought.
“Messenge: do you want me be real?”
It was from Katou_Megumi, someone who he had never heard of expect being of the same name. While those messages are usually dubious and unreal, overwhelmed with love, Josh picked up his phone and typed, “How?”
“Do you have a boy friend?”
Josh was no gay, so she must meant a normal male friend, Josh thought. And at this time he pictured his soulmate, Bran, who had been watching anime with him since 14 or 15.
“Yes?”
“Bring him to me so I can know him”
Josh noted, “Megumin couldn’t be like that, she is too soft to be eager. It must be someone playing on me… Bran?” He called Bran, who worked in the gas station often in night shifts, so there was a good chance he was up, and he knew of his devotion of Megumin. Those might be ways Bran used to spend the night without being bored.
“Hey Bran, did you send that Katou_Megumi message?”
“What Katou Megumi message?”
“That one, ‘do you want me be real?’”
“No chance, I’ll come later and let you check my phone.”
The reply was absurd to him, and there were already apps to fake message senders. Josh didn’t know if it was Bran, or some other people, but he wished in his heart that Megumin could be real.
The next day Bran went over and gave Josh his phone. “You say I sent those stuff? I don’t know how to do that.” Bran wanted to clear his name. As Josh inspected the phone, he found all messages being sent normally without the 2 mysterious ones, and no apps that remotely modify messages to appear to be sent elsewhere. There were just normal apps and games. “Bran, it wasn’t you? Then who was it...”
Another notification hit Josh’s phone, and the 2 friends looked at the phone…
The 2 previously misunderstood friends hurdled to see what was wrong with the phone when Bran was not the culprit behind the messages. Josh unlocked the phone to reveal a few new messages:
“Your friend is here”
“Let us start”
“Start what?” Bran was dumbfounded looking at the messages. Josh was starting to understand the situation he was in, and urged Bran to move away from the phone. The chat app opened abruptly, and a few abnormal dialogs popped up:
“You want me to be real”
“So I will take away your dearest friend”
“And replace him”
Josh suspected that the one in the app was no longer Megumin, but some intruder using her identity. But realization aside, the phone flew out of Josh’s hand and towards Bran, knocking him on the head and onto the ground. Without a pause the phone emitted a bright ray to cover the unfortunate guy, until it appeared to Josh that Bran was a shape of light, the skin replaced by white radiance. Now terrified, Josh leaped to Bran’s shape, he wasn’t sure if he had a body by then, and tried to snatch the phone; but a force repelled him and he fell back on the ground, immobilized and left there to witness what happened next…
The shape started to morph, becoming shorter and most proportionally feminine by every passing second, and he could saw slimmer limbs replacing the old ones. A good pair of breasts was inflated as well as the perfect shape Josh had envisioned; and the hair grew until the hairstyle matched Megumin’s. And to add more insult to a frustrated Josh, who was already destroying everything Megumin in his room, the simple outfit was forming with the characteristic beret hat now visible as an outline.
The transformation was complete, as well as Josh’s new bitter distaste with Megumin and the ruin of his room. Posters were torn into pieces, while the dakimakura cover was removed from the pillow and stamped upon. Figures were scattered on the ground, dismembered, in contrast to the body of Katou Megumi on the ground, unharmed, unscratched, and completely real as an Asian high school girl. Everything on the body was not unlike the best cosplays, save that there was an authentic touch to them.
Josh picked up the phone, and to his dismay, the chat app had disappeared.
Without any clue to do with the body of “Megumin”, he decided to do a bold thing: he could enter the back alley of the block he was in and dump her there without many knowing. To his luck, no one noticed and the body was quickly disposed of.
However, With the incident, Josh no longer saw Megumin as his true love and instead as terrifying, since she took his good pal away. From then he shunned all his collections of Megumin, destroyed ones dumped and others sold. While Josh remained interested in anime, Megumin was to him a black history of some kind.
He was reminded of that when he got in touch of a hit called Konosuba, featuring the stupid heroine Aqua and the chuuni magician, the name was of course, Megumin. But Josh knew that, Megumin was another character from Katou Megumi since Megumin (the one from Konosuba from now on) was a chuuni magician yelling “explosion!” and practising explosive magic every day. She was not the everygirl that was Katou Megumi. This way, Josh would learn no to disdain her.
Megumin was much different from from the old Katou Megumi, being a younger magician in an epic chuuni garb, characteristic of her clan. With or without the hat, or the chuuni eyepaych, Josh was sure her greatest attraction was her insanity in casting explosion magic around. The sight was stupid but really entertaining, much like the rest of Konosuba. That set her apart from Katou Megumi, and by Megumin Josh could finally let his memories of Katou Megumi go.
It was the time of the year that a great anime convention came by, and Josh went there. There was a lot to see there, and many cosplayers were around as with any other anime con, but one of them caught Josh’s attention.
She was a Megumin cosplayer, a rather good one with all the costume’s details being true to the real Megumin, and a real Asian. But then, Josh noticed, the breasts were a bit too big, and her age seemed to be about high school.
As Josh came close, the cosplayer noticed him, and called out softly, “Josh”, in a voice Josh was familiar, but he could not pinpoint why. The cosplayer slowly walked near Josh, and while he looked more closely, he seemed to have remembered something.
“Megumin… The voice, isn’t it Katou Megumi’s? That sounded close enough to a dub, if she was speaking good English.
Other than the voice, while the cosplayer hid it under the eyepatch and the red contact lens on the other eye, her eyes were like Megumi’s. And though the hairstyle was now shaped in Megumin’s fashion, the hair length seemed to be like Megumi’s.
If she had Megumi’s voice and looks, then how was it possible?
Josh knew he himself brought her to life with that incident. While the cosplayer called out to him, “Josh, remember me?”, Josh wanted to leave the place and not to see her again. Not that she could stalk her, but he wanted a distance as far as possible.
Running out, Josh was sure that if the cosplayer- the real Megumi- had left the convention she have little chance of returning, for his apartment was hours away. He was right, and as he looked back, the cosplayer turned back into the hall the convention was in.
To escape her, he had to leave the convention, but as Josh thought, if she had known him, she would have found him out sooner or later, and he couldn’t escape for long. He didn’t know if he should face his fear and find out the cosplayer, or went as far as possible. He wanted the latter of course, but then, it was almost impossible.
So, where should he go?
Among all those queers, follies, the overpowered and the overrated, Megumi is the most modest of all, possessing little attractiveness compared to anyone else, yet she had won the heart of Josh by simply being mundane, and exemplary at the same time:
While there are lolis and grown-ups with oversized breasts or minimal breasts, in Josh’s eyes, only Megumin (as many affectionately call her) embodies the best size; her body shape, mature but not entirely, is also what made Kashima popular in comparison with her child-like face; Megumin had only plain black hair and amber eyes, not any other colors that blinded Josh.
The icing on it all is certainly the famous but simple outfit (you can see in the preview picture), the one Megumin was seen on the street, that made Josh attracted to her.
He surrounded himself with Megumin posters, figures of Megumin, and the official dakimakura, besides other anime collectibles that made his room seem close to Melonpan, the famous Swiss otaku, but Josh treated his collection in a saner way, only imagining Megumin to be his girlfriend and lived with her. In his mind he never wanted to disappoint Megumin for she was his love and she was his life.
When the Megumin chatting app was out, many rushed to download it, and Josh was no exception to chase the chance of dating her. In the app there was a 3D model of Megumin which you can chat with. While others ditched the app after some time and out of their fading eagerness, Josh kept on playing to interact with his love.
Megumin was someone he wanted to be real: Not just cosplay level real, but a real person with the identical personality and mind. Something many had dreamt, but no one had realized for it being impossible to break the 4th wall. Only if she could travel to this world or I could get there, Josh fantasised.
As he fantasied of Katou Megumi being real at night, a notification from his phone broke his flow of thought.
“Messenge: do you want me be real?”
It was from Katou_Megumi, someone who he had never heard of expect being of the same name. While those messages are usually dubious and unreal, overwhelmed with love, Josh picked up his phone and typed, “How?”
“Do you have a boy friend?”
Josh was no gay, so she must meant a normal male friend, Josh thought. And at this time he pictured his soulmate, Bran, who had been watching anime with him since 14 or 15.
“Yes?”
“Bring him to me so I can know him”
Josh noted, “Megumin couldn’t be like that, she is too soft to be eager. It must be someone playing on me… Bran?” He called Bran, who worked in the gas station often in night shifts, so there was a good chance he was up, and he knew of his devotion of Megumin. Those might be ways Bran used to spend the night without being bored.
“Hey Bran, did you send that Katou_Megumi message?”
“What Katou Megumi message?”
“That one, ‘do you want me be real?’”
“No chance, I’ll come later and let you check my phone.”
The reply was absurd to him, and there were already apps to fake message senders. Josh didn’t know if it was Bran, or some other people, but he wished in his heart that Megumin could be real.
The next day Bran went over and gave Josh his phone. “You say I sent those stuff? I don’t know how to do that.” Bran wanted to clear his name. As Josh inspected the phone, he found all messages being sent normally without the 2 mysterious ones, and no apps that remotely modify messages to appear to be sent elsewhere. There were just normal apps and games. “Bran, it wasn’t you? Then who was it...”
Another notification hit Josh’s phone, and the 2 friends looked at the phone…
The 2 previously misunderstood friends hurdled to see what was wrong with the phone when Bran was not the culprit behind the messages. Josh unlocked the phone to reveal a few new messages:
“Your friend is here”
“Let us start”
“Start what?” Bran was dumbfounded looking at the messages. Josh was starting to understand the situation he was in, and urged Bran to move away from the phone. The chat app opened abruptly, and a few abnormal dialogs popped up:
“You want me to be real”
“So I will take away your dearest friend”
“And replace him”
Josh suspected that the one in the app was no longer Megumin, but some intruder using her identity. But realization aside, the phone flew out of Josh’s hand and towards Bran, knocking him on the head and onto the ground. Without a pause the phone emitted a bright ray to cover the unfortunate guy, until it appeared to Josh that Bran was a shape of light, the skin replaced by white radiance. Now terrified, Josh leaped to Bran’s shape, he wasn’t sure if he had a body by then, and tried to snatch the phone; but a force repelled him and he fell back on the ground, immobilized and left there to witness what happened next…
The shape started to morph, becoming shorter and most proportionally feminine by every passing second, and he could saw slimmer limbs replacing the old ones. A good pair of breasts was inflated as well as the perfect shape Josh had envisioned; and the hair grew until the hairstyle matched Megumin’s. And to add more insult to a frustrated Josh, who was already destroying everything Megumin in his room, the simple outfit was forming with the characteristic beret hat now visible as an outline.
The transformation was complete, as well as Josh’s new bitter distaste with Megumin and the ruin of his room. Posters were torn into pieces, while the dakimakura cover was removed from the pillow and stamped upon. Figures were scattered on the ground, dismembered, in contrast to the body of Katou Megumi on the ground, unharmed, unscratched, and completely real as an Asian high school girl. Everything on the body was not unlike the best cosplays, save that there was an authentic touch to them.
Josh picked up the phone, and to his dismay, the chat app had disappeared.
Without any clue to do with the body of “Megumin”, he decided to do a bold thing: he could enter the back alley of the block he was in and dump her there without many knowing. To his luck, no one noticed and the body was quickly disposed of.
However, With the incident, Josh no longer saw Megumin as his true love and instead as terrifying, since she took his good pal away. From then he shunned all his collections of Megumin, destroyed ones dumped and others sold. While Josh remained interested in anime, Megumin was to him a black history of some kind.
He was reminded of that when he got in touch of a hit called Konosuba, featuring the stupid heroine Aqua and the chuuni magician, the name was of course, Megumin. But Josh knew that, Megumin was another character from Katou Megumi since Megumin (the one from Konosuba from now on) was a chuuni magician yelling “explosion!” and practising explosive magic every day. She was not the everygirl that was Katou Megumi. This way, Josh would learn no to disdain her.
Megumin was much different from from the old Katou Megumi, being a younger magician in an epic chuuni garb, characteristic of her clan. With or without the hat, or the chuuni eyepaych, Josh was sure her greatest attraction was her insanity in casting explosion magic around. The sight was stupid but really entertaining, much like the rest of Konosuba. That set her apart from Katou Megumi, and by Megumin Josh could finally let his memories of Katou Megumi go.
It was the time of the year that a great anime convention came by, and Josh went there. There was a lot to see there, and many cosplayers were around as with any other anime con, but one of them caught Josh’s attention.
She was a Megumin cosplayer, a rather good one with all the costume’s details being true to the real Megumin, and a real Asian. But then, Josh noticed, the breasts were a bit too big, and her age seemed to be about high school.
As Josh came close, the cosplayer noticed him, and called out softly, “Josh”, in a voice Josh was familiar, but he could not pinpoint why. The cosplayer slowly walked near Josh, and while he looked more closely, he seemed to have remembered something.
“Megumin… The voice, isn’t it Katou Megumi’s? That sounded close enough to a dub, if she was speaking good English.
Other than the voice, while the cosplayer hid it under the eyepatch and the red contact lens on the other eye, her eyes were like Megumi’s. And though the hairstyle was now shaped in Megumin’s fashion, the hair length seemed to be like Megumi’s.
If she had Megumi’s voice and looks, then how was it possible?
Josh knew he himself brought her to life with that incident. While the cosplayer called out to him, “Josh, remember me?”, Josh wanted to leave the place and not to see her again. Not that she could stalk her, but he wanted a distance as far as possible.
Running out, Josh was sure that if the cosplayer- the real Megumi- had left the convention she have little chance of returning, for his apartment was hours away. He was right, and as he looked back, the cosplayer turned back into the hall the convention was in.
To escape her, he had to leave the convention, but as Josh thought, if she had known him, she would have found him out sooner or later, and he couldn’t escape for long. He didn’t know if he should face his fear and find out the cosplayer, or went as far as possible. He wanted the latter of course, but then, it was almost impossible.
So, where should he go?
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
The Drug of Growth
In the living room Becky’s father Tom took out a drug brought from a bioengineering company he worked in. It had no labels except for a plain one with “Age Progression Drug” printed on it. Otherwise, the bottle was no different from the average medication, which he was taking home regularly.
Becky noticed the bottle and asked Tom, “Age Pro-gre-shun Drug?” “It’s progression, my girl,” Tom replied. Becky was only 3 and too young to comprehend complex words like “progression”, and mistakes like that were understandable.
“What’s that? Is it candy?” Despite the apparent “Drug” label and its non-resemblance to any kind of sweets Becky had ever seen, it was close enough to children vitamin pill Tom often gave her as some kind of “candy”. Lies are bad, but for her to swallow the vitamin they were necessary. The pink color of the pills further reinforced that image Becky had in mind.
Tom picked up the bottle and sank into deep thought. “Each pill results in age progression of 1 year and rapid acceleration of mental age growth*. To reverse the effect try our Age Regression Drug. Effectiveness not guaranteed and side-effects vary from none to disability and death. Consider carefully before use.” Tom read the small text on the side of the bottle, and in his mind his wife’s want and his reason combated.
His wife Joan mothered Becky at the ripe age of 44, and through in vitro fertilization after one and a half decades of attempt. Child-bearing at this old age meant the loss of 15 years of precious growth in Becky, and when the idea hit her she was uncomfortable. She thought, “could we warp the fabrics of time for us to have the appropriate age?”
It was either reinvigorating Joan or skipping Becky’s childhood, but neither time warping or changing someone’s age were a thing of fiction- until Tom’s company initiated a new research in human growth and regression. Now that the research was in its human testing phase, he informed Joan of the groundbreaking discovery, in which Joan saw the only hope.
There was a small surplus of one of the drug since one of the subjects died of uncontrollable ageing and his portion was spared. Being in the right position as the head of testing process, Tom secretly embezzled the portion and placed it in a prototype bottle given to him by a friend in the marketing team.
Though aware of the project, Tom was not truly clear of the drug’s potency as it was kept secret to the testers, so he had to refer to the bottle for any effect. And he counted, 1, 2, 3, a total of 14 pills, enough to age Becky from 3 to 17. That would close the gap just right if Joan ever used that, he reminded himself.
The idea would be his wife’s pleasure, but to himself, it was his worst decision: first he went against his conscience to loot from his company which had deep trust in him, and then he was about to erase his dear girl’s childhood…
Joan came in and took the bottle away. I could had stopped it at the last moment, Tom regretted.
Becky stood in the bathroom naked, only facing a ready Joan. “Come on, you will have those candies. Now count them and eat them one by one.” Without knowledge Becky obliged. By the time she finished all that was in the bottle, the one standing in front of Joan was no longer an infant, but a girl at her high school age. Long hair of a nightly blue color had grown, tied by her mother into an outdated hairstyle.
Joan went out to pick the teenage clothes she had prepared beforehand, but she couldn’t find her husband. He had left.
Tom left in the grief of his baby girl’s loss to age- something he made real firsthand by bringing the drug to a willing Joan. With beer he was revelling in the temporary relief of drunkenness and in forgetting that his girl was no longer there. He decided to stay away from home for some time, or even leaving Joan with a divorce, to start a new life. But for tonight he needed a bed and breakfast.
The first thing to do for the now grown up Becky was to enrol in the local high school, of course, even though her mind was far less than ready. School were almost incomprehensible at first, but by the end of the day she got the idea of most of the subjects. On top of that, new friends were made, something she was eager to do as a newcomer to both the environment and age, though everyone treated her as mentally stunned as it was wont.
At the end of the day, with the new sketch book and crayon, Becky drew the scene of her first day in school, something she was glad of meeting so much new friends and having so much fun!
Tom sneaked into the backyard of his house not to be discovered, and he witnessed now adolescent Becky drawing as if she was still stuck at 3. Tom remembered the small note after the asterisk:
*Mental growth rates vary across users and aspects of mentality. Additional information including (but not limited to) personality, memories and knowledge.
All art used here are under fair use.
Becky noticed the bottle and asked Tom, “Age Pro-gre-shun Drug?” “It’s progression, my girl,” Tom replied. Becky was only 3 and too young to comprehend complex words like “progression”, and mistakes like that were understandable.
“What’s that? Is it candy?” Despite the apparent “Drug” label and its non-resemblance to any kind of sweets Becky had ever seen, it was close enough to children vitamin pill Tom often gave her as some kind of “candy”. Lies are bad, but for her to swallow the vitamin they were necessary. The pink color of the pills further reinforced that image Becky had in mind.
Tom picked up the bottle and sank into deep thought. “Each pill results in age progression of 1 year and rapid acceleration of mental age growth*. To reverse the effect try our Age Regression Drug. Effectiveness not guaranteed and side-effects vary from none to disability and death. Consider carefully before use.” Tom read the small text on the side of the bottle, and in his mind his wife’s want and his reason combated.
His wife Joan mothered Becky at the ripe age of 44, and through in vitro fertilization after one and a half decades of attempt. Child-bearing at this old age meant the loss of 15 years of precious growth in Becky, and when the idea hit her she was uncomfortable. She thought, “could we warp the fabrics of time for us to have the appropriate age?”
It was either reinvigorating Joan or skipping Becky’s childhood, but neither time warping or changing someone’s age were a thing of fiction- until Tom’s company initiated a new research in human growth and regression. Now that the research was in its human testing phase, he informed Joan of the groundbreaking discovery, in which Joan saw the only hope.
There was a small surplus of one of the drug since one of the subjects died of uncontrollable ageing and his portion was spared. Being in the right position as the head of testing process, Tom secretly embezzled the portion and placed it in a prototype bottle given to him by a friend in the marketing team.
Though aware of the project, Tom was not truly clear of the drug’s potency as it was kept secret to the testers, so he had to refer to the bottle for any effect. And he counted, 1, 2, 3, a total of 14 pills, enough to age Becky from 3 to 17. That would close the gap just right if Joan ever used that, he reminded himself.
The idea would be his wife’s pleasure, but to himself, it was his worst decision: first he went against his conscience to loot from his company which had deep trust in him, and then he was about to erase his dear girl’s childhood…
Joan came in and took the bottle away. I could had stopped it at the last moment, Tom regretted.
Becky stood in the bathroom naked, only facing a ready Joan. “Come on, you will have those candies. Now count them and eat them one by one.” Without knowledge Becky obliged. By the time she finished all that was in the bottle, the one standing in front of Joan was no longer an infant, but a girl at her high school age. Long hair of a nightly blue color had grown, tied by her mother into an outdated hairstyle.
Joan went out to pick the teenage clothes she had prepared beforehand, but she couldn’t find her husband. He had left.
Tom left in the grief of his baby girl’s loss to age- something he made real firsthand by bringing the drug to a willing Joan. With beer he was revelling in the temporary relief of drunkenness and in forgetting that his girl was no longer there. He decided to stay away from home for some time, or even leaving Joan with a divorce, to start a new life. But for tonight he needed a bed and breakfast.
The first thing to do for the now grown up Becky was to enrol in the local high school, of course, even though her mind was far less than ready. School were almost incomprehensible at first, but by the end of the day she got the idea of most of the subjects. On top of that, new friends were made, something she was eager to do as a newcomer to both the environment and age, though everyone treated her as mentally stunned as it was wont.
At the end of the day, with the new sketch book and crayon, Becky drew the scene of her first day in school, something she was glad of meeting so much new friends and having so much fun!
Tom sneaked into the backyard of his house not to be discovered, and he witnessed now adolescent Becky drawing as if she was still stuck at 3. Tom remembered the small note after the asterisk:
*Mental growth rates vary across users and aspects of mentality. Additional information including (but not limited to) personality, memories and knowledge.
All art used here are under fair use.
Monday, June 26, 2017
It Came from the Vending Machine?
All art used here are under fair use.
Friday, June 23, 2017
The Bimbofying Effect
A limousine pulled up outside of a dark and desolate alley in the
vibrant night life of the city. Opening the door was a dark silhouette
which blended into the crowd, such that, if someone looked from the top
of a block here, no matter how good he could be at recognising faces, he
could only see a shadow. You could not know who he was, even when you
faced him, and as far as you could describe, the description was either
contradictory or non-existent.
At a window overlooking the street I observed the movement of the silhouette through the camera of a fly-sized drone, and no matter how hard I had tried, I couldn’t pin down his or her face. Such silhouette was witnessed to be associated with a few disappearances in which he (let me stick with that) pulled someone into the alley or any covered space, and the victims disappeared, only for the limousine to be driven away later without the silhouette returning. There was no pattern of the victims, except that they were all male. They ranged from small children to seniors, and were of all races and social status. In fact, the more cases we had, the more the pattern resembled the general demographic make-up of America- so, almost no pattern at all. Even picking people at random would show some sharp patterns after many attempts.
One thing was sure: the alley was optimal for the next case and about 70% of the cases occurred this side of the city.
Now that the silhouette was out, looking for his next victim. As I focused back onto the screen, the silhouette has already pulled another white male of about 35 years of age, wearing a pair of broad glasses and of the “geek” type. With inhuman strength he dragged the new victim in the opposite direction of the crowd’s movement, all while attracting little attention. But no matter how hard he tried, they did bump into some people and then they didn’t apologise, hurrying again.
It was by those bumps the crowd realised that another kidnapping was happening and dispersed quickly. Some guys of bravado moved to follow the two, but upon arriving to the alley they vaporised into thin air, and there was no one inside. Some of the trackers entered the alley, and after some time they left in frustration. I could guess that they could found nothing but garbage and graffiti, and there was no sign of them even leaving- something I confirmed by flying the drone inside and observed the alley.
Without any clue of their whereabouts it was logical to park my drone on one of the mirrors of the limousine, so that I could look inside when the car was driven away. It was always the case for the limousine to be driven away as I said, but we had no clue of the driver. There was no one on the seats as far as I could see, which was more confusing: the limousine was driven away usually without anyone observed entering, in witness’ accounts, camera footage and photos. Some waiting would help.
It really helped when a young woman manifested on the back seat in a sudden. The woman, not older than 30, had short, curly blue hair- very unusual unless for dyeing, while her hair looked natural- and wore only a simple white dress, seemed to be put on in a hurry. The most visible part of her was her breasts, unnaturally big, seemingly enlarged by surgery or other means.
We was not able to be sure of the woman’s identity, since there was no social security registration with an identical face, nor from any database we had. By manifesting, I could have meant from a comic, or from someone’s imagination.
As for the disappeared geek, there was no sign of him, as if he had faded away from this world, while the woman appeared to replace him in this world. This was wild speculation, however, and as far as he was lost, this case couldn’t be closed.
As soon as the woman appeared the limousine started moving, and literally no one was driving: the driver’s seat was unoccupied, but the steering wheel was being controlled by some invisible hand. The limousine wasn’t self-driving, either.
At last, the limousine got moving. Its destination must had some clues for our investigation, or even for breaking the case.
You could know the limousine’s moving by judging the scenery around. When the scenery stopped moving in the camera, the limousine was actually parked. If it was not the case the sun would not rise tomorrow. So after some time, I knew when the limousine parked in a sudden, they had arrived at their destination.
The door was jerked open without anyone visible outside, and the woman was pulled out forcefully. I flew the drone up to keep track of her, and that revealed a crucial location: she entered a club with a large Neon sign named “Bimbo”. It had to be the place, I said to myself. From the web, “bimbo” describes a woman attractive but stupid, and the woman on the car at least matched the attractive one. Whatever was done inside should be key to the investigation.
I reported all of my observations to my superordinates, and though confused as ever, they agreed to send agents to shut down the club and investigate. No matter what really happened, normal or abnormal, it will clear up any questions everyone have, and for me, I finally could take a break from this complication of the mystery.
I'm writing this story from a news I've seen a few weeks ago about the club "Bimbo". the news coverage went as far as until the cops and FBI locked the club up for investigation, and then there's nothing else that the news has covered except for the cops' announcement.
They claimed that there was abduction of young girls and illegal activities going on inside and the club has been closed, but that statement was too brief to answer my questions. Somehow, the kidnapping of males has never quite been explained, and on the Web there was already some doubts of a possible cover-up. Here is what some forum investigators have unraveled:
-The kidnapper (I think he is the silhouette) has taken the males and the girls into the club
-The males are for services and the girls are for sex
-The cops and FBI denied the relevance of male disappearances to the club since they have some connections with the club
This will be some kind of serious scandal, but I have instead come up with my own theories which I had put down into prose. I haven't give out my conclusions but that would be easy for you to guess. No one really knows what exactly happened inside, not the cops, not the forum members, not me. But what happened doesn't matter, since everyone twists the truth into their perceptions and interpretations.
I know all of you want to go on reading, but I've hit my block and put the best of my knowledge in it, so it's up to you to imagine what really happened.
At a window overlooking the street I observed the movement of the silhouette through the camera of a fly-sized drone, and no matter how hard I had tried, I couldn’t pin down his or her face. Such silhouette was witnessed to be associated with a few disappearances in which he (let me stick with that) pulled someone into the alley or any covered space, and the victims disappeared, only for the limousine to be driven away later without the silhouette returning. There was no pattern of the victims, except that they were all male. They ranged from small children to seniors, and were of all races and social status. In fact, the more cases we had, the more the pattern resembled the general demographic make-up of America- so, almost no pattern at all. Even picking people at random would show some sharp patterns after many attempts.
One thing was sure: the alley was optimal for the next case and about 70% of the cases occurred this side of the city.
Now that the silhouette was out, looking for his next victim. As I focused back onto the screen, the silhouette has already pulled another white male of about 35 years of age, wearing a pair of broad glasses and of the “geek” type. With inhuman strength he dragged the new victim in the opposite direction of the crowd’s movement, all while attracting little attention. But no matter how hard he tried, they did bump into some people and then they didn’t apologise, hurrying again.
It was by those bumps the crowd realised that another kidnapping was happening and dispersed quickly. Some guys of bravado moved to follow the two, but upon arriving to the alley they vaporised into thin air, and there was no one inside. Some of the trackers entered the alley, and after some time they left in frustration. I could guess that they could found nothing but garbage and graffiti, and there was no sign of them even leaving- something I confirmed by flying the drone inside and observed the alley.
Without any clue of their whereabouts it was logical to park my drone on one of the mirrors of the limousine, so that I could look inside when the car was driven away. It was always the case for the limousine to be driven away as I said, but we had no clue of the driver. There was no one on the seats as far as I could see, which was more confusing: the limousine was driven away usually without anyone observed entering, in witness’ accounts, camera footage and photos. Some waiting would help.
It really helped when a young woman manifested on the back seat in a sudden. The woman, not older than 30, had short, curly blue hair- very unusual unless for dyeing, while her hair looked natural- and wore only a simple white dress, seemed to be put on in a hurry. The most visible part of her was her breasts, unnaturally big, seemingly enlarged by surgery or other means.
We was not able to be sure of the woman’s identity, since there was no social security registration with an identical face, nor from any database we had. By manifesting, I could have meant from a comic, or from someone’s imagination.
As for the disappeared geek, there was no sign of him, as if he had faded away from this world, while the woman appeared to replace him in this world. This was wild speculation, however, and as far as he was lost, this case couldn’t be closed.
As soon as the woman appeared the limousine started moving, and literally no one was driving: the driver’s seat was unoccupied, but the steering wheel was being controlled by some invisible hand. The limousine wasn’t self-driving, either.
At last, the limousine got moving. Its destination must had some clues for our investigation, or even for breaking the case.
You could know the limousine’s moving by judging the scenery around. When the scenery stopped moving in the camera, the limousine was actually parked. If it was not the case the sun would not rise tomorrow. So after some time, I knew when the limousine parked in a sudden, they had arrived at their destination.
The door was jerked open without anyone visible outside, and the woman was pulled out forcefully. I flew the drone up to keep track of her, and that revealed a crucial location: she entered a club with a large Neon sign named “Bimbo”. It had to be the place, I said to myself. From the web, “bimbo” describes a woman attractive but stupid, and the woman on the car at least matched the attractive one. Whatever was done inside should be key to the investigation.
I reported all of my observations to my superordinates, and though confused as ever, they agreed to send agents to shut down the club and investigate. No matter what really happened, normal or abnormal, it will clear up any questions everyone have, and for me, I finally could take a break from this complication of the mystery.
I'm writing this story from a news I've seen a few weeks ago about the club "Bimbo". the news coverage went as far as until the cops and FBI locked the club up for investigation, and then there's nothing else that the news has covered except for the cops' announcement.
They claimed that there was abduction of young girls and illegal activities going on inside and the club has been closed, but that statement was too brief to answer my questions. Somehow, the kidnapping of males has never quite been explained, and on the Web there was already some doubts of a possible cover-up. Here is what some forum investigators have unraveled:
-The kidnapper (I think he is the silhouette) has taken the males and the girls into the club
-The males are for services and the girls are for sex
-The cops and FBI denied the relevance of male disappearances to the club since they have some connections with the club
This will be some kind of serious scandal, but I have instead come up with my own theories which I had put down into prose. I haven't give out my conclusions but that would be easy for you to guess. No one really knows what exactly happened inside, not the cops, not the forum members, not me. But what happened doesn't matter, since everyone twists the truth into their perceptions and interpretations.
I know all of you want to go on reading, but I've hit my block and put the best of my knowledge in it, so it's up to you to imagine what really happened.
Friday, June 16, 2017
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Ice Cream of Change
Ice cream was my favorite. Only two kind of people love ice cream: little girls being handed one by parents or whosoever, and fat guys sitting in front of the TV watching reruns. To be honest, I’m the latter. While film goers prefer popcorn and some prefer bags of air (with some potato chips), I gulped loads of ice cream down my throat. In my fridge I always had 2 or 3 flavor, often 4 or 5. Every time I’m in Walmart or anywhere I would buy some ice cream.
I didn’t go out too often since I prefer staying at home outside of work, but sometimes I went to the nearby Six Flags with my 3rd grade boy. Once while walking pass the line of concession stands, my son pointed to a new ice cream stand, located where a bush had been last time we visited. It was not weird for stands to be added or removed, but my son was pulling me to the stand as if there was some attraction compelling him.
“You want ice creams? It takes you a lot of money here, you can have much more at home, and a lot of flavors!” But my son won’t stop pulling me. The attraction might exist, since we saw many other parents buying ice cream scoops for their children, while the candy shop opposite had lost most of their customers. Something might be weird, but still, I was being begged eagerly.
My son instinctively pointed to cookies n’ cream, his favorite and the only flavor he would eat. Defeated, I ordered what he want for him, and a chocolate flavored one for myself.
For some reason, the chocolate ice cream was more deeply flavored than what it seemed. The chocolate was not the one I usually had at home, but one that was crafted by one of the master chocolatiers, and seeped deep into my taste bud. It certainly was worth the popularity it had, and after that visit we would fetch some ice cream there.
Due to my frequent return I came to know the one selling ice creams. A woman in her late 30s, she usually tied her cream-colored hair into a short tail, and wore her own apron on top of the shirt. In fact, she rented an apartment the floor below, something I didn’t realize until meeting her. This meant that we meet quite often not in Six Flags, but much nearer to home.
From her I knew that her ice cream was homemade- I wondered how she could managed the time, but then, every night, while I was comfortably seated, she was working on new flavors restlessly, and this answered the chocolate ice cream’s taste, since she told me she ordered Belgian chocolate in bulk. We became good neighbors and exchanged often.
In return, I shared moments of my daily life, how I went to work and then sat in front of the TV for the rest of the day and night. “That’s not good enough,” she went on to encourage me to change, like when she quit her job to pursue her dream and set up the ice cream stand she had.
She wanted change for me, but not myself. I just wanted more TV time and scoops of ice cream, and she was not listened to at best, if not denied up front. That way, I continued my routine life, and licked from my spoon every night at 2, while my son was sleeping and the TV was on playing a DVD.
One day, she called me to her place, just to discuss her future since she claimed to be moving away to open a new shop on the West Coast. Seated, she ported a cone of mint chocolate ice cream, and which was said to contain some “special ingredients”. I didn’t know what special ingredients it had, but that “This is for me?” “Yes, please enjoy it and treat it as some kind of parting gift.”
Upon tasting the ice cream with the spoon the woman gave him, the world around the fat guy started spinning. Strangely a mint-colored background, embroidered with chocolate stripes, formed. He thought it was some kind of psychedelic, since he was dazed by the flashy surroundings and the sickness it caused spread to his whole body, and even stranger, he could actually notice the surrounding getting larger, and himself shortening to a mere 4’4”.
Meanwhile, his fat belly disappeared, the fat being moved under the skin to all parts of his body, some to his chest and hips which were a bit thickened. While the shoulders collapsed, the proportions become more of a little girl than a fat guy, and so was the limbs and hands, being more refined and lengthy. Most of the body hair fell off, except those on the head, turning dark beige and growing rapidly, eventually tied into a twintail by an unseen force. The skin took on a lighter color, as smooth as a child. While the head became rounder, the eyes was larger and had amber color instead of the old blue, and the nose and mouth much smaller than before. The T-shift and shorts gave way for a cute chocolate and mint-colored dress, decorated with lushy green bows; new leather shoes and long mint socks replaced the worn sneakers. Finally, at the most intimate part, what had made the transformed one a man was no more, replaced by something appropriate for a little girl.
“Mama makes the best ice cream,” I said. Mama told me something I didn’t understand, “my girl, you are going to lead a new life from now on.”
All art used here are under fair use.
I didn’t go out too often since I prefer staying at home outside of work, but sometimes I went to the nearby Six Flags with my 3rd grade boy. Once while walking pass the line of concession stands, my son pointed to a new ice cream stand, located where a bush had been last time we visited. It was not weird for stands to be added or removed, but my son was pulling me to the stand as if there was some attraction compelling him.
“You want ice creams? It takes you a lot of money here, you can have much more at home, and a lot of flavors!” But my son won’t stop pulling me. The attraction might exist, since we saw many other parents buying ice cream scoops for their children, while the candy shop opposite had lost most of their customers. Something might be weird, but still, I was being begged eagerly.
My son instinctively pointed to cookies n’ cream, his favorite and the only flavor he would eat. Defeated, I ordered what he want for him, and a chocolate flavored one for myself.
For some reason, the chocolate ice cream was more deeply flavored than what it seemed. The chocolate was not the one I usually had at home, but one that was crafted by one of the master chocolatiers, and seeped deep into my taste bud. It certainly was worth the popularity it had, and after that visit we would fetch some ice cream there.
Due to my frequent return I came to know the one selling ice creams. A woman in her late 30s, she usually tied her cream-colored hair into a short tail, and wore her own apron on top of the shirt. In fact, she rented an apartment the floor below, something I didn’t realize until meeting her. This meant that we meet quite often not in Six Flags, but much nearer to home.
From her I knew that her ice cream was homemade- I wondered how she could managed the time, but then, every night, while I was comfortably seated, she was working on new flavors restlessly, and this answered the chocolate ice cream’s taste, since she told me she ordered Belgian chocolate in bulk. We became good neighbors and exchanged often.
In return, I shared moments of my daily life, how I went to work and then sat in front of the TV for the rest of the day and night. “That’s not good enough,” she went on to encourage me to change, like when she quit her job to pursue her dream and set up the ice cream stand she had.
She wanted change for me, but not myself. I just wanted more TV time and scoops of ice cream, and she was not listened to at best, if not denied up front. That way, I continued my routine life, and licked from my spoon every night at 2, while my son was sleeping and the TV was on playing a DVD.
One day, she called me to her place, just to discuss her future since she claimed to be moving away to open a new shop on the West Coast. Seated, she ported a cone of mint chocolate ice cream, and which was said to contain some “special ingredients”. I didn’t know what special ingredients it had, but that “This is for me?” “Yes, please enjoy it and treat it as some kind of parting gift.”
Upon tasting the ice cream with the spoon the woman gave him, the world around the fat guy started spinning. Strangely a mint-colored background, embroidered with chocolate stripes, formed. He thought it was some kind of psychedelic, since he was dazed by the flashy surroundings and the sickness it caused spread to his whole body, and even stranger, he could actually notice the surrounding getting larger, and himself shortening to a mere 4’4”.
Meanwhile, his fat belly disappeared, the fat being moved under the skin to all parts of his body, some to his chest and hips which were a bit thickened. While the shoulders collapsed, the proportions become more of a little girl than a fat guy, and so was the limbs and hands, being more refined and lengthy. Most of the body hair fell off, except those on the head, turning dark beige and growing rapidly, eventually tied into a twintail by an unseen force. The skin took on a lighter color, as smooth as a child. While the head became rounder, the eyes was larger and had amber color instead of the old blue, and the nose and mouth much smaller than before. The T-shift and shorts gave way for a cute chocolate and mint-colored dress, decorated with lushy green bows; new leather shoes and long mint socks replaced the worn sneakers. Finally, at the most intimate part, what had made the transformed one a man was no more, replaced by something appropriate for a little girl.
“Mama makes the best ice cream,” I said. Mama told me something I didn’t understand, “my girl, you are going to lead a new life from now on.”
All art used here are under fair use.
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
TG Milk
I took a day-off to investigate. I drove to where the farm selling that milk was located 100 miles away from my house. The farmhouse was not unlike any other one, and it really suited the image of a farm to us city folks: rustic but decently maintained. Everything appeared to be normal, with some cows out in the pasture and some in the barn. There was only one thing that seemed off: the farm was populated only by a short-haired brunette in her mid-20s, who was sweeping the barn. The part of her which immediately caught my attention was the largest bust I’ve ever seen: about 41”, bigger than the biggest of all celebrities and even more than humanly and naturally possible. Maybe getting fresh milk every day really gives you an advantage, not just in height.
If I didn’t shouted out first, she would barely noticed me. “Hello?”
She looked up and replied hastily, "What's the matter and who’re you?"
"I'm investigating this farm for a news site, and I'm interested at the milk your cows produce."
"More of you media guys. Since I've found this pasture's special properties I've been getting lots of attention. Come in," so it seemed that the properties were due to the land; if you move the cows away it will soon produce normal milk. This fueled my interest and might prove the authenticity, and I passed through the gate to meet her. Now she left her broom behind and was tending the cows and extracting some milk as professional as she could. Not that girls can’t do that, but her age seemed too young to have such expertise. Besides, by no means could a farm be owned all by herself, without it being a part of inheritance passed to her after her parents’ early death. I might be prejudiced in these however, but I still thought I should inquire.
"You are so professional at such a young age. Did your parents train you since your childhood? Or did your parents left you at an early age..." things just couldn't fit together as a coherent account of her past, so there must be some missing piece I couldn't have imagined. Or what? But then she countered, "Don't trust my appearance, I've been raising cows for over 40 years." 40 years? That was probably longer than her life. How could she appeared to be in her 20s? Or maybe she started her career since she was a baby, I couldn’t have guessed it. How could she have achieved this impressive feat?
"I don’t know you appeared younger than you are." “Yeah, I’m actually older than I appear, and this was all due to the milk produced here...” It was a year before I visited the farm, and the land where it stood had always been used for sheep since the first settlers and even among Indians, until that point. No one knew why, except from some tales passed down from the Indians to ranchers and pastors: Some tribe new to the area once tried to raise cattle here and consume their meat, and soon they found out all of their men have become women completely. They dispersed and nearby tribes came to know this pasture as a sacred site of their own goddess of fertility, that if one ate or drank what was produced on the site, he would become fertile in the form of a woman. The native tribes did warn the settlers and these lore stuck as some local legend. Even though the advent of modern biology proved that biological sex was determined by unalterable DNA and not magic, local farmers still believed in the tales and only raised sheep for wool there.
Not Matt, who moved in with his wife from the nearby state after buying some land on the alleged sacred site. He might have listened to a few tales of supernatural, but being rational he shook them off as mere fantasy and imagination. So was this tale of gender-swapping, impossible even for modern technology. He planned to move his dairy farm there and informed his neighbors of his decision, and their only responses were a precautious “No”. Determined to ignore a superstitious folk, he ignored them and went on with the venture.
He spent money on some farm buildings, moved some Frisian milk cows and equipment into the farm, and raised them for sometime. Before selling any of the milk produced here he was to taste it to judge the quality of the land. One morning he poured a cup of fresh milk and drank it himself. It was the smoothest milk he had ever drunk, as smooth as silk if you have eaten them, and replete with the strongest of aroma. It reminded him of breast milk, or the image of a mother feeding her babies, but he simply could be remembering those baseless tales. Like a baby to breast milk he carved for more and extracted liters for himself.
Soon his body was warmed all over, and he took it as a sign of cold. But then his body started to nudge and he ran to the mirror to check himself. To his horror and denial, he was changing: first his skin was progressively lightened and untanned, with a few scars on his arms and legs disappearing. Then his frame started to shrink, gradually from 6’ to a mere 5’7”, a bit too short for a male. Then his body hairs started to fall off, except for his top and intimate parts and elsewhere becoming shorter and less dense. His shoulders was tightened and the width went to his hips, while his butt was gaining weight. All his muscles was melting into fat and a moderate pair of bust appeared above a flattened and narrower abs. This effect spread to his limbs, shortened, thinned and more delicate than yesterday. He looked into his face, not spared by this wave of feminization: his nose was less protruding and the eyes was becoming bigger, his face shifted to become that of a young woman, and his skull was now more round and smaller. His hair grew a bit, but it failed to reach his shoulders.
“Damn!” He shouted in a voice several pitches higher than his usual one. In his throat his Adam’s apple ceased to exist. “No more?” In a sudden his groin was hit by an unseen force and she fell to the ground by the intense pain. She checked her pants, and found out that her manhood and balls was no longer there. Instead there was only the organ of fertility. With the pain she screamed and lay on the floor. The screech was loud enough to woke the wife up, who could not find in the living room her weathered husband in his 50s, but only a young woman in her 20s.
Matt, or Matty as she would later call herself, tried to explain all the odd effects of the milk, but at most she could only get lukewarm acceptance by the wife. The wife, then considering herself widowed, moved away; and this left Matty with her farm, which now had no value except after shifting to sheep- something she was not familiar with. To salvage the farm she did some research on gender-swapping, and concluded that, judging from the existence of a LGBT community, she could sell some of the milk over the web to them. There were and still are a lot of buyers for this milk, who had also thought gender-swapping by drinking a milk until they tried out her farm’s milk and saw the success of the milk on their bodies. “This is how TG milk come into being. I still don’t know how something as simple as a milk produced in a particular site can change one’s gender, but at least I can sell my milk and sustain myself. Besides, I don’t mind about being a girl, since I can still work here and still strong enough to move thing around. There’s also a benefit, that I can live for a few decade more at better health.”
“So the legend is true after all.” By the way, on the page selling the milk, it was also mentioned that the milk can enlarge someone’s breasts; I looked at Matty’s breasts again, and become convinced that she had been drinking the milk after the incident. What I guessed was right: after a month of drinking the milk every day, her breasts went from 32” to the size I saw that day. In fact she actually seemed to had overdone it, since 41” was actually slightly impractical for the kind of farm work Matty did daily. But then anyone have their choices.
I thanked her for the interview and exited the farm. Driving back to my home, I recounted of my encounter with her, and doubted whether nature could do this to an otherwise normal pasture, or if I was in a deep dream. Of course, I was dreaming it up all the way, but so were those who had gained new lives after drinking this TG milk, and those who continue to pass these tale of the sacred site down to the next generation.
Sunday, March 26, 2017
First Post
Seiran's here.
I'm starting this blog out of the fear that my stuff on DeviantArt will be taken down, just like many others' accounts and works. Most of them are NSFW (and even more SFW) captions and stories with "stolen" fanart at the mercy of the staff there. In cae my account is banned there, at least I have this blog for all of you to read my new and older works- getting my TG ideas out and showcasing these anime pictures are my main motivation to write. If the account's up, well, it's fine, then I'll also upload new works on both sites, here and DeviantArt.
This blog has everything on the DeviantArt account, plus some of the deleted captions and stories as far as I have a copy of it on my laptop. So far I have 2 series, the 1st one from 4/2017 to 10/2017, and the 2nd from 6/2018 up to now (almost uninterruptedly). I stopped writing between the 2 series because, well, life's a b*tch, but also of some personal reasons.
I'll get the 1st series up first. Here you are.
I'm starting this blog out of the fear that my stuff on DeviantArt will be taken down, just like many others' accounts and works. Most of them are NSFW (and even more SFW) captions and stories with "stolen" fanart at the mercy of the staff there. In cae my account is banned there, at least I have this blog for all of you to read my new and older works- getting my TG ideas out and showcasing these anime pictures are my main motivation to write. If the account's up, well, it's fine, then I'll also upload new works on both sites, here and DeviantArt.
This blog has everything on the DeviantArt account, plus some of the deleted captions and stories as far as I have a copy of it on my laptop. So far I have 2 series, the 1st one from 4/2017 to 10/2017, and the 2nd from 6/2018 up to now (almost uninterruptedly). I stopped writing between the 2 series because, well, life's a b*tch, but also of some personal reasons.
I'll get the 1st series up first. Here you are.
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