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Bone Deep

Written by Leo_Todrius

Commissioned by Zefurr

Some said that progress waited for no one, but those that said it had never met the Foundation for Archaeological Preservation. It had started as a modest movement in Europe before gaining support in the Americas, Eurasia and finally became a partner with the United Nations. The day that the contractor for Tower Estates had gotten the letter from FAP, it had been an abrupt and complete end to his project... but it was just the beginning for Stephen Foster and his team.

The construction site had been transformed into a dig site with trailers set up at the periphery and equipment brought in. Layer after layer of dirt was drawn back as the entire area was mapped out and studied with every piece of technology the FAP could afford. Days had turned into weeks and weeks had turned into almost two years. It was meticulous, tedious work but it had paid off in spades. The fossil record from four hundred thousand years ago was sparse, but Professor Foster's team had made great strides at filling it in.

They had discovered scrapers, spear tips, even evidence of knotted and woven nets and baskets. There were bits of what might have been a flute and pendants, everything needed to help fill in a picture of the neanderthal way of life, but the most interesting finds came from the collection of bones they had discovered; seven neanderthal skeletons in various states of completion, and a strange layer of particalized minerals that the research team was having a hard time identifying. It was the find of a lifetime, but Professor Foster's work was drawing to a close.

Stephen stood in the archaeology trailer, tidying up his papers. It felt a bit strange after so long, but his home away from home wasn't going to be his home any longer. He was going to miss the bitter coffee, the chilly mornings and the scorching afternoons... but it had been a phenomenal dig. It was the jewel of his career and it was far from over. It was time to head back to civilization and start analyzing everything he had discovered.

The professor lowered himself into his chair, exhaling a bit as his back adjusted. Maybe there were a few parts of civilization he wouldn't mind returning to. There was a moment of stillness in the trailer as the professor rested, a quiet and peace. With the main lights off and the sunlight pouring in through the windows, the dormant monitor of the computer acted like a perfect mirror. It reflected the professor's stoic face, his short buzzed hair and his rich earthy brown skin tone. He had on round glasses that framed his face well and hid the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

Stephen had lived a life of academic pursuit, intent on pushing himself as far as he could go. He had broken through barriers, defied any obstacle that had held him back and created a legacy for himself. He had discovered things few others could dream of and it was more than just luck of the draw. He had an intuition about these things, and this job had been no exception. Stephen was proud. He was also a bit tired. Maybe the return to his university was just what he needed to shake things up. No doubt it would be a welcome change for his son. Stephen turned and looked at the picture of his desk, the face of a teenager looking back. Stephen miled a bit, thinking of August, looking at his handsome face. They shared the same eyes, the same tenacity, but his son was such a unique person over all. It would be good to be able to spend more time with him.

The professor's thoughts were interrupted as the door to the trailer opened and a flood of sunlight poured in, forcing him to blink a few times to adjust. His assistant stepped in, carrying one of the foundation's most advanced stasis cases in her hands as if the fate of the world rested between her fingertips. She grinned ear to ear despite the smudges on her cheeks as she set it down on the table. Stephen reached up to adjust his glasses, looking up at her, a childlike glee playing across his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked. His assistant nodded.

"Catalogue Item 37A, the first skull discovered at the site... Four hundred and thirty thousand years old... An example of neanderthal man the likes of which the world has never been able to study." she whispered.

"And we're the first, Kelly." Stephen said softly, "I feel a little guilty that you have to mop up while I start the next phase." he apologized. His assistant, however, laughed.

"Well, I have to admit I am a bit envious... but enjoy it, Professor. You've worked hard for this... and I'm sure August can't wait to see you." she smiled. Stephen looked back at the photo on his desk, hoping that his son wouldn't be mad that he was gone for so long.

****

A gentle pulsing light came from the game console, waxing and waning, as if calling out to its player that had so abruptly paused mid-battle and fled the living room. After all, they had been nearly inseparable for months. The living room looked like an undisturbed crime scene. There were clothes laying about, stacks of dirty dishes, and a pyramid of haphazardly stacked electronic devices in one easy to reach pile. It was the epitome of a man cave, although August was doing his best to reverse the damage of treating his home like a bachelor's pad for almost a year.

The reminder had come out of the blue, set some time in the ancient past. The smart speaker had announced the return of August's father and brought with it half buried memories. Today was the day he came back, today was the day he'd try to put life back to normal... and August had to unlearn months of his bad habits. He'd started in the kitchen, perhaps the most challenging of all. He'd filled four garbage bags with the evidence of house parties past and gotten them out of the back. The dishwasher was churning away while the right side of the sink soaked the hardest hit implements.

From there August had started collecting clothes from the bathroom, bedroom, hallway and dining room. It was a small wonder he hadn't run out of things to wear, but reusing them had bought him time. The washing machine lurched to life, filling with water as August headed to the bathroom. He was a blur, moving back and forth. More garbage was extracted, the toilet brush brandished, a thumping filling his chest as his heart raced. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that his father was a gentle man, at least to a point... but he doubted he'd understand his son letting loose and living wild.

August sped out of the bathroom, heading for the living, passing family portraits. They showed him growing up, year by year until his mother had passed away. From there the pictures had larger gaps, more time in between. He'd always kept his hair buzzed short and neat, though it had grown out a bit in the last few months and he sported new diamond studs that sparkled crisply against his earthy toned skin. The eighteen year old all but dove into the detritus around the television. He banished the clothing to the garage, carried more of the dishes to the kitchen and then moved back to sort the pillows.

A quick check under the couch proffered some magazines he would have preferred his father never see. He grabbed his tablet and laptop and returned them to his room, spiriting them away to places unseen and unknown. After all that work, August paused for a moment, panting. He held his mouth just a bit open to make it easier to catch air, the sunlight playing off the stubble that covered his chin and cheeks. He knew he looked a bit ungroomed, but that was the least of his problems. He had to get the house back in shape before his father came home... home, after all those months, after all that time apart. August let out a long sigh. He didn't even know where to begin.

****

With a flick of the switch, life returned to the University's research lab. Cool toned lights snapped on in the ceiling and an entire wall of sample cases hummed, waiting for their specimens. The tables chirped as their scanners came online, ready to document every minute detail of each artifact. Even the screen that had replaced the antiquated blackboard warmed up, a circle spinning before the digital assistant program loaded. Digital sticky notes appeared around the edges, each of them seeming woefully out of date after the project itself had launched. After spending so much time in the field, the University felt like a luxury. It was perfectly climate controlled, well equipped and truly felt like a home away from home for Stephen.

"Good morning Professor." The digital assistant announced.

"Good morning Duke." Stephen said, carrying the case over to set it up on one of the tables. It took some maneuvering to get it positioned just right but as he did, the side walls of the stasis case turned from opaque to a transparent blue, revealing the skull inside. The professor was almost startled by its beauty, how pristine and complete it was, how close to human and yet so far away. He swallowed a bit, "Duke, enter item; Thirty-Seven Alpha."

"Item entered." The assistant replied.

"Prepare full scan, 3D mapping and documentation." Stephen instructed.

"Process will take approximately six hours. Do you wish to begin now?" Duke asked. Stephen hesitated for a moment, looking at the skull. It all seemed so... sterile, so scientific. After spending so long in the dust, in the muck, waist deep in history... This was humanity's ancestor, its distant past, and he had a hand in it. Stephen shook his head and moved over to put on some gloves.

"Set the process to start in ten minutes." Stephen said.

"Affirmative." Duke replied. The professor pulled on a set of gloves, making sure they were on tight before he moved back to the exam table. His fingers swept across the controls, turning off the stasis field. The blue glow faded from the box before the professor opened it. He stood to one side, looking at the hollow eye sockets of the skull. It seemed so familiar and yet so alien. The sockets were larger than modern humans, the brow bone exaggerated, the back of the skull extended, the jaw bone a bit more defined.

Despite his better judgement, Stephen reached into the case. It was an impulse, a mad bit of hubris. He had to touch this relic of history, to feel it, to be a part of it. His hand moved as light as a feather, approaching the bleached bones that had waited hundreds of thousands of years to be unearthed. The professor's heart fluttered, his breath hesitated. His finger came closer and closer to the past. As it did, thousands of tiny particles that dusted the surface of the skull began to shift, lifting off of the skull, standing upright. Whether they had been awoken by the electromagnetic field of the sophisticated equipment or merely by the heat of a human, no one could say... but they, too, had been waiting for thousands of years ever since the neanderthals had passed away.

Not seeing or sensing the danger, Stephen brought his finger down to touch the skull. In that moment Stephen felt history, his legacy, his ancestry... and a sharp prick as several tiny filaments perforated his glove and his finger at the same time. Stephen recoiled, stumbling back, afraid that he had damaged his prize. He looked down at the skull, cradling his hand. It was undamaged. He looked back at his finger, seeing the holes in the latex glove. They were tiny, smaller than a needle, but present enough. He looked down at his hand in confusion.

"Duke, begin scan..." Stephen muttered, feeling foolish. The blue stasis field snapped back up around the skull, joined by new sweeping waves of light as the system began to process the artifact.

Duke's screen began to fill with raw data for a moment before it began to organize itself, bringing up a rough shape of the skull along with its chemical composition. In six hours the system would have performed tests that used to take anthropologists weeks to perform. Now all Stephen had to do was wait. The other samples would arrive in time. The lab was up and running. He had done his part for now. The professor peeled off his gloves and threw them away, checking the lab one more time before he grabbed his briefcase and stepped out, locking the door behind him.

****

A warm afternoon breeze blew across the campus, rustling through the tall branches of the cottonwood trees, almost sounding like distant ocean waves. Other sounds carried on the wind as well; conversation, laughter, life being lived. Everything seemed so vibrant to Stephen as he left the building. The sunlight seemed brighter, the wind richer, the sounds louder. He looked around with a bit of wonder, feeling an odd tingling spreading up his arm and across his shoulders. Beads of sweat were starting to form across his forehead, soaking into his dark hair. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust.

From somewhere behind him came the trudging of footsteps. Stephen wheeled around to see several members of the university's football team on a jog. They were big, beefy men that represented their school well. Each of them was at least six feet tall, broad shouldered, their shirts soaked with exertion. Some had buzzed hair, others grew it out longer and most sported some degree of stubble or facial hair. One of the students bowed his head.

"Good afternoon professor Foster." He said as he and his team jogged by.

"Riley..." Stephen all but grunted, watching them go past with an odd carnal fascination. Stephen felt a strange, deep fascination with them. He loved watching how their muscles worked, how their bodies moved. They were fine hunters... Hunters? That wasn't the right word. They were athletes, and Riley was one of his former students.

Stephen tried to shake off the strange feeling with each step he took, but it only got worse. It felt like his brain was rattling around inside his skull, like he wasn't connected to himself or time or reality around him. He felt dizzy and his eyes had a hard time focusing. The sunlight was too bright, the colors too intense, the sounds too loud. The professor looked toward the parking lot but it became a jumble of dull colored metal and overheated asphalt, spinning and swirling, seeming like too much. He couldn't bear it, he had to find somewhere to rest, to find his balance.

It didn't take too many steps to get off the beaten path, heading off the rich white cement, across a strip of well groomed greenery, a ridge of bark dust and then onto grounds less well tended. The bright light was scattered by a canopy of leaves, the sounds were muffled by a wall of bamboo stalks and the colors of the botanical gardens seemed far less severe when bundled together in a natural environment compared to the antiseptic sharpness of the campus proper. Stephen slowed, finding some of the peace and balance he needed, though not entirely.

As the professor looked up and around, he still saw flashes... distortions, images, visions that didn't quite match up. He saw plants that no longer existed, footprints of beasts that were not there, a sky that wasn't quite the right color. It looked strange and alien, but to him, somehow, it looked like home - the way home felt, the way home was meant to be. He had been gone too long, cut off from his roots, from himself... It was an aching need, an emptiness, a disconnection that ran bone deep. He yearned for it, he craved it, he wanted to reach out and touch it.

Once more his vision shifted. There was a cracking boom in the heavens. Stephen spun around, raising his head, watching a flaming, burning ball of light streaking across the sky. The air sizzled as the shooting star fell to Earth and then he felt the thunderous shockwave beneath his feet. Smoke climbed from the horizon, animals scattered, but all around there was a strange black mist falling. It wasn't quite like ash - the smell was metallic. The particles were minuscule, coating everything in a fine powder. It caught in Stephen's hair, his beard, his animal skins - and that realization alone was enough to make the professor double over.

Stephen stumbled forward, his hand reaching out to rest on a rock for support to keep him from going down to his knees. As his hand hit the rock, the vision shattered and everything came into clarity. Stephen's eyes snapped open, seeing the botanical garden for what it was, what it had been since it had been built in the seventies. The gears started turning in his head once more, leading from his visions to the dig site to the skull in his lab. The professor's jaw dropped in shock as it came into focus.

The mineral... It was from the meteorite... It had covered everything in the area, bonding to it. It was all over the samples, it was on the skull he had touched, it had broken through his glove... it had bonded with him. The thoughts came rapid fire, spreading out through Stephen's mind like a raging fire, like the heat of the meteorite itself until the heat reached a boiling point and something had to give.

A strange grinding, crunching sound came from Stephen's hand where it rested against the rock. His skin had been well calloused from working at the dig site, sun worn and wind beat. Stephen turned to watch as his fingers started to push out just a little bit longer, the knuckles swelling a bit. His palm grew longer and wider as a dusting of hair began emerging from the back of his hand.

"What is this..." Stephen murmured before he groaned, feeling a pressure building in his head. It started to fill his brain, squeezing it, wrangling it, surrounding his eyes. He clenched his brow, but the brow clenched back. His head ached and throbbed, but even more than that, it was growing. Stephen could feel his bones thickening, his skull stretching. There were distant, muffled echoes as the bone plates popped and reoriented themselves as new calcium rushed in to fill the gaps. More than anything, he felt the weight and mass as his brow bone began pushing outward, extruding, building up layer after layer as it eclipsed his eye sockets.

More crunching and grinding sounds came from throughout the professor's old body. His knees got thicker and together, his elbows less streamlined. For a moment it became hard to breathe, as if there wasn't enough room for his lungs to expand, but then he realized that was the exact reason he couldn't. His chest had filled with the mass of his expanding lungs and soon everything else had to adjust. His spine ached as it stretched outward, the vertebrae growing wider and thicker, taking up more space. As they grew, they forced the ribs to push apart and expand as well.

Nothing in the professor's academic career had prepared him to understand or comprehend such a rapid metamorphosis in a living mammal. He stood there, barely able to keep upright, but it wasn't just his body that was changing. Whatever fear or confusion or doubt there had been about the change was being replaced. Each breath was fuller than the last, each beat of the heart more powerful. It felt as if a weight he had carried his entire life was being lifted, or rather he was finally strong enough to lift it for himself for the first time.

A strange grin crossed Stephen's face - strange half because he was smiling, and half because his mouth was changing. His teeth were growing, becoming a bit more primitive. His head still swam with the sensation of growing and expanding. His brow bone was a good inch and a half thicker, but the back of his head was pushing outward too. The changes seemed to seep and spread, changing one part, then another, then both simultaneously. There was some cosmic grace keeping the changes from progressing so fast as to destroy Stephen's body, but the professor's wardrobe was not quite as fortunate.

The first sound came from a button popping off of his shirt, hitting the rock before bouncing into the grass. Another followed suit, then a third, but Stephen was changing too fast for even the buttons to keep up with. A louder, sharper tearing sound came as the seam split along his shoulder. Stephen's entire upper body had been trying to grow and was being held in place by his button up shirt - or at least it had been.

More tearing came, fabric splitting down the middle and sleeves nearly bursting. Stephen felt a bit like the incredible ulk as his biceps and triceps grew. His sleeves rode up, showing off his forearms and how oddly hairy they had been. The hair was soft, downy, a dark brownish black quite unlike the rest of his hair. The changes rippled outward and as his collar split open, it revealed more curls of hair peeking out from his thickened, reinforced collar bone.

All of the changes should have been scary, even traumatizing, but Stephen felt almost drunk with the change. He felt strong, powerful, vibrant. Each change was pleasurable, even thrilling, almost blinding him to other, equally strange and wonderful feelings. Stephen was busy looking at his enlarged hand, how much bigger and stronger it was, when he realized just how tight his shoes had been getting. The pressure was intense and his feet ached with such a pent up pressure that it was almost impossible to ignore any longer.

Just looking at them, his dress shoes were straining, trying to confine his feet and keep the guise of civilization. They were the last bastion of culture, of advancement, of the point humans had reached after decades of progress... and with the flexing of his growing, stretching, elongating toes, Stephen broke through his shoe. The leather split in four places as tight black stitching snapped. Dark creamy brown toes slid out forward as his heel grew out in reverse, his foot arching and stretching.

Stephen watched with wonder as his foot grew inch by inch, size by size, dwarfing any foot he'd seen before. He couldn't even guess how big it had gotten, surging past size sixteen, maybe even eighteen. It looked so lonely, the professor knew he couldn't leave it by itself. With one artful stretch of his left foot, the other shoe nearly exploded as his foot broke free into the world. His toes lengthened, his arch expanded, his heel thickened. He kicked the remnants of his shoe out of the way before letting his huge, supple, perfect foot sink down into the grass. He felt the blades between his toes, the kiss of the dirt against the plump bottoms, the rough brush of a piece of bark against his heel. His foot was tough, it could handle it, it could handle him.

The professor reached up, clutching the torn scraps of his shirt in his hand. He balled it together and gave it a tug, ripping it from his torso. His broad, sculpted, muscled back broke free, dappled by the speckles of sunlight that broke through the canopy. He had the shoulders of an athlete, a professional, the shoulders of a version of man that had been built for a rugged life before such things had been eroded away by evolution and society.

Stephen stood in the garden as an example of masculinity. He was taller, broader, stronger and sturdier than any human had been... but the burning heat of change still crackled inside of him. His scalp began to throb and ache and burn, tingling as the follicles went into overdrive. Centimeter by centimeter, then inch by inch, his dark hair began to push outward. His well groomed hair got messy, then wild, eventually settling into tufts and twists that slipped down across his ears and the back of his head.

If the professor had wanted to, the archaeological dig would have been the perfect time to have grown out a beard, but he'd bucked tradition and gone clean shaven the whole time, at least until now. His cheeks budded with stubble, dark black on his umber skin. His chin blossomed with hair of its own, then a new crop of dark hair began to bloom across his upper lip. It pushed out little by little, then more at a time. It was patchy at first but managed to fill in, his cheeks and chin disappearing beneath the forest of hair.

Stephen exhaled slowly across his new teeth before his eyes opened, peering out from beneath the protective shelf of his swollen brow bone. Each turn of his head revealed how much his skull had expanded and he felt the tug and sway of his mane of hair. He pulled his enlarged hand back from the boulder and lowered it to his side before he moved to take a step, stopping at once when he felt the painful sensation of how tight his khaki pants had gotten, digging into his legs.

One glance down revealed an almost comical contrast. The professor had pushed well past seven feet tall, adding on a hundred pounds of new muscle and bone density. His feet were huge, his legs were long, and yet his dockers had tried their best to remain in place. Stephen reached down to alleviate the situation. His fingers barely brushed the button before it burst, the zipper coming apart so fast it broke off the teeth.

With an oddly gleeful grin, Stephen grabbed a hold of his slacks and tugged, tearing them loose before discarding the remnants. His underwear went with it, revealing the rest of his most magnificent body. Feeling the cool kiss of late afternoon air, Stephen's manhood began to rise to the occasion. He'd always been a bit gifted in that area, but as the blood surged into his length, it revealed just how gifted he had become.

At nine inches, Stephen knew he still had what had brought August to life... At eleven inches he realized that his new body came with benefits. As he watched, the towering slab of meat grew broader, fatter and wider. It was strong enough to stand on its own, but it almost felt like a shame not to give it some support. He wrapped his hand around his length and gave it a stroke. That extra touch, that heat and pressure, was all it took to propel his next wave of change.

Stephen threw his head back, his long hair brushing his shoulders, his beard blowing in the breeze as his cock began to push out longer and longer, inch by inch, passing fourteen inches, then sixteen. The flesh toughened, anchoring itself into his groin. New veins formed, new muscles organized themselves. The root of his beast settled in like the trunk of a tree. As it grew, it nurtured everything around it. Stephen's bush got thicker, creeping up his firm, flat stomach... but the biggest growth came from below.

His balls had hung proudly beneath his rod for some time, but as his sword became a club, it seemed his balls didn't want to get lost in the shuffle. They hung lower, the sack filling fuller, rounding out and plumping. They almost gurgled as they surged with the changes sweeping through his body. Stephen was a force to be reckoned with. He was a tower of muscle, a pillar of brute strength, a behemoth of possibilities. He was the type of creature that had not walked the Earth in thousands of years, but here he was, back and alive. The traits of ancient ancestors had been awoken, even enhanced by the strange mineral that had fallen from the sky.

Stephen's face scrunched up, his enlarged eyes clenching tight as he grunted and moaned. His hand thrust back and forth along his python with zeal and need. Sweat broke out across his forehead, his chest, his shoulders. His toes curled against the dirt, he groaned and moaned and then howled as his fat balls offered up everything they had. His shaft throbbed, ached, pulsed and then unleashed his sticky, potent seed. With each spurt of his fat, long cock, it seemed to get thicker, stickier and richer. He was virile, he was a man in his prime - no, he was a caveman in his prime.

The boiling heat in his veins ebbed back into a dull simmer. His body had stopped changing, but there was still a pressure, an urge, a need... a need to be with more of his kind. He had to perpetuate his species, to create new life... just as he had with August, with his son, his offspring... but August didn't know the gifts his father now had. He didn't know the strength, the pride, the virility. His son had to join him, to become the man he was meant to be, to become like his father. Stephen had awoken to his new purpose, although his old name and his old life barely seemed to fit anymore. He wasn't Stephen any more. That name was too pretentious, too complicated. The former professor thought for a moment, perhaps a moment too long before it fell into place.

"Venn... " he muttered to himself with a disproportionate amount of pride. With his new name christened, it was decided. The reborn neanderthal began walking through the garden, bypassing the parking lot. He wouldn't need his car anymore. Wherever he was headed, he had two perfectly magnificent feet to get himself there.

****

It had been a long day of preparation, cleaning and maintenance but the house was starting to look like a home again. August was a bit worried he would be too tired to welcome his dad home properly. His dresser nearly groaned with the mass of all the clothes put away inside, and he'd made a deal with the neighbor to take on the extra bags of garbage so there weren't obvious piles around the property. The dishes were put away aside from one last load, but his dad could forgive him for that. August was putting away the vacuum cleaner when he heard a weird series of thumps coming from the living room.

"Dad, is that you?" August called out, shutting the hallway closet door before he started walking toward the living room. "I ordered some pizza, I hope that's okay. I know you probably ate a bunch of it when you were in the-" August stopped mid sentence as he saw the looming silhouette standing in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun.

Venn looked like an exhibit that had escaped the museum. He was taller, stronger and broader than any human. His hair was wild and matted, nearly working itself into dreads in parts. His beard was bushy and full, hanging down to his Adam's apple. His skull was thicker, longer, and more nuanced... but most of all, he was completely naked. His shaft hung down almost to his knees and his feet were enormous, each toe perfectly sculpted and so plump they almost seemed succulent.

For a moment the two stood in perfect stillness, having surprised each other. Venn looked at how much his son had grown, scanning him up and down. August, however, saw only a monster. His mouth opened to scream, but the neanderthal moved in an instant. August was snared by strong arms, a hand clasping down over his open mouth to muffle the scream as it came out. Tongue met flesh, but it also met the sticky, salty, briny residue of his father's earlier release. The taste was enough to shake August to another level.

"Aug... Son, no scream." Venn muttered, finding the words far harder than the thoughts as he kicked the front door shut to secure their privacy. August made a muffled grunt of confusion, looking upward. Venn took a long breath,"Promise no scream?" he asked. August reluctantly nodded slightly. Venn gave a nod at that before he let his son go. August stepped back a little, turning to look at the beast that had called him son. The shock of it all flooded his system, but he did his best to survey the creature before him. He looked past the brows, the hair, the hulking muscles and saw the eyes, the cheek bones, the glint of the man he had been before.

"Dad?! What happened? What's going on?" August asked, looking at his father. The shock of it all had August's head spinning, but as he looked at his dad he was a bit surprised by just how powerful his father looked. He seemed years younger, more vital than August had ever seen him. His muscles were thick, his bones were strong, he was tall and powerful and... hung. August flushed a little, looking back at his father's face.

"Sam... Sample. Mete... Meteo... Ugh, falling star!" Venn grunted, shaking his head, "Not important. You and me important, us strong... Good hunters." Venn said, smiling, brandishing his thicker teeth. August opened his mouth to protest, but somehow what his father was saying was making sense. It seemed to be the only thing that did as his head spun and swirled, throbbing and aching. His tongue tingled, his skin burned. August felt blood pooling in his groin as his shaft started to harden, but that didn't hold a candle to just how hard his nipples were getting. His heart raced, his chest heaved. August looked back up at his father, but he didn't just see the man that raised him... He saw a strong, capable leader, a mentor, the head of their family... Someone to look up to, to venerate, to celebrate, to worship. August felt pieces of himself, his culture falling away as he looked at how strong his dad was.

Venn looked at August, but already he could see the first signs that August was coming around. His brow bone was starting to swell and his cheeks were darkening with stubble. His scalp was slowly pushing out more hair. August stood there, washed over by it all, not even realizing he had been contaminated. Venn, though, saw his son becoming the man he was meant to be. He took a step forward and reached up, taking his son's cheek in his hand before he leaned down and kissed him.

Their lips met, cautious at first, then heated. Venn's mouth was pried open by Venn's strong tongue which plunged inside, slipping back and forth, in and out, brushing over teeth that were changing by the second. There was a swirl of misplaced rage that August felt about being abandoned for so long in favor of his father's career, but the rage faded away, replaced with the eagerness to be with his father, the relief that he was back, and a deeper understanding that to ensure the survival of their family, hunters often had to go on long quests. It made sense in a way it never had before. Venn grabbed his son's other cheek and held it thee as they kissed. August's tongue became more vital, fighting back, sneaking into Venn's mouth. The two kissed for what seemed like a long moment until August pulled away, stumbling back, panting.

He looked up his father and opened his mouth to protest, but the words didn't come. His mouth felt foreign, filled with teeth that were just a bit too big. His brow bone pushed out more and more, eclipsing his eyes. His hair was sneaking down the back of his neck, adding on centimeter after centimeter. The longer mane hid the swelling of his skull as the cranial bones pushed apart and then thickened, taking up more mass. His neck strengthened to support it, then the changes spread downward.

August watched his son's clothes grow more and more ill fitting, but they weren't the scraps that any hunter should wear. Venn moved forward again and reached, grabbing a hold of August' shirt. Without so much as a hint of difficulty, he tore it apart. The fabric shredded and was cast aside.

"Aug be proud, become big hunter like Venn... Make more hunters." Venn said. August looked up at his father with a bit of uncertainty, but that doubt and confusion faded away as August's stubble began pushing out to a beard. The dark hair filled in across his cheeks, his upper lip, his chin and his throat. It wasn't as long as his father's, but it was a start. His hair dropped down to his shoulders, his ribs ached as they pushed apart, taking up more space. His stomach rumbled and his organs shifted.

"Ungh!" August grunted, doubling over, panting and heaving for breath. His eyes clenched shut for several seconds until, at last, he opened his eyes. He was looking down at his father's feet... but they were unlike any he had ever seen before. They were so big, so long, so wide. They were agile and articulated, not quite human. They seemed to be just a bit different, enough to allow his father to leap from rock to rock. It was just the hint of animal, the missing link between humans and their ancient selves. Such a strong hunter had such a strong foundation, and they were the most beautiful pieces of flesh that August had ever seen.

Venn grunted in surprise as August pounced forward, landing at his feet. August leaned down and nuzzled Venn's right foot, rubbing his bearded cheek on it before he took a big whiff. He could smell his father, the path he had taken to get there, every aspect of the journey. He brought his nose right down against his dad's toes and took a long, deep breath before he held it. He didn't want to forget that moment, to forget that bond. The scent was strong and masculine, like his father.

August was reverent in the way he drew his nose and chin across his father's foot, but he couldn't neglect the other. He switched over and gave it equal sniffing and nuzzling, embracing his father's feet. Venn was taken aback, not having expected that development, but in a strange way it felt like they were finally back together as they should have been. Venn moved over to the couch and sat himself down, spreading out. His shaft rested against his stomach, his feet were up in the air. August all but crawled over to follow them.

Propped up on the heels, August got to indulge himself on the underside. He nuzzled the soles of his father's feet, first the left, then the right. He sniffed each toe, he inhaled the scent, he felt the curve of the arch and the blunt of the heel. They were amazing, they were perfect, and... they seemed to be inspiring his own body as well. August let out another grunt as his own feet ached and throbbed. Bones cracked, cartilage shifted, but all in all it seemed to be a far more fluid experience than Venn had enjoyed.

The complex maelstrom of emotions that August had been harboring for so long seemed to be shedding by the second. Stephen, no, Venn... His father was the apex predator responsible for his life. He owed his father everything; his life, his loyalty, his service. He moved up from Venn's feet, heading to nuzzle his ankle, kiss his knee, and caress his thigh.

Venn watched his son rise up between his legs with a look of intense desire, of need, of supplication. Whatever had separated them before, that was gone now. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, no doubt. Venn knew that they would be closer than any humans had been in generations, and all he had to do was help seal his son's fate. The neanderthal took a hold of his fat, long shaft and tipped it forward, presenting it to his son. The mushroom shaped head was still glistening with the cum that Venn had shed in the park, the same cum that had corrupted August with but a drop caught on a hand.

August reached up and wrapped one hand most of the way around the root of his father's cock, and then he placed another atop it. There was room for at least two more hands and August wished he had them to offer. He started to stroke up and down the length, picking up speed, looking at his father's immense tool. Venn merely crossed his arms behind his head, using them as a pillow and exposing his pits as he let his son embrace him.

August's supple lips leaned forward, brushing the tip, finding the crook of his father's urethra. His tongue was timid at first, but as he tasted that stark, potent musk, he couldn't resist. His head surged forward, his lips spread apart and his hot tongue welcomed his father's rod. August began to bob his head up and down, taking a little more in each time. Venn grunted and moaned, feeling his heart thump and race. His son was so eager, so thirsty, so strong. He had much to learn before he would be the leader, but Venn knew he would teach him. One of his large hands came down, holding the back of August's head, tangling in his longer mane of hair. He began guiding his son's head up and down, letting that fat cock brush the back of his throat.

The last shred of a gag reflex faded away before August began taking his father deeper than he ever imagined possible. He had done his best to please Venn with his tongue and his lips, but now it was up to his throat. It squeezed and tugged, almost as if it was milking Venn for what he had to offer... and it seemed that Venn was ready to be milked. His heavy, full balls began to churn and surge before his thick froth erupted deep inside of August's throat. August slid back, allowing himself to catch his father's seed in his cheeks and on his tongue. He savored the potent spunk before he dove deep again, hilting his father in his throat. Venn howled and threw his head back, blasting his seed as he felt his son guzzle it down. Drop by drop, pint by pint, his son was nourished by what he had to offer.

The last shreds of August's humanity boiled away. His brow finished expanding, his muscles firmed, his stomach toned, his hips widened and his feet swelled. His achingly hard cock descended downward inch by inch by inch, extending out over plump, fat balls. His hair kept growing, pushing pat his shoulder blades down to the small of his back while his thick, bushy black beard brushed his sternum. His eyebrows were thick, his jaw square. He was built for power and strength, stamina and vitality. He was the hunter his father needed at his side, and the perfect one to have sucking on his cock.

August's mind broiled, sizzling away imperfections of his thoughts.He had no need to understand game consoles or smart phones, to operate computers or microwaves. Even his name seemed obtuse and inconvenient. Venn had said it best, Aug... Just distinct enough to be audible apart from a grunt, but fast enough to utter in the heat of the hunt. They were one, they were family, they were the same... and Aug wouldn't have wanted it any other way. He reached to rub his father's fat sack, admiring his balls. Even feeling them was enough to send him over the edge.

Aug's newly minted cock bobbed up and down as he came, ejecting the last few drops of his human cum before his neanderthal seed began to gush forth in thick jets. The living room reeked with the smell of masculinity, of father and son, of a new breed... or rather a very old breed of man. They had grown taller, wider, and stronger. Their skulls were larger, their bones thicker. Their cocks surpassed anything that humans had to offer. While it was true in some ways that their genes had regressed, it could also be said that some of humanity's damage had been undone. They were strong again, ready to face the elements, ready to face any threat that came their way. They were hunters, they were neanderthals, they were men... and they were ready.

"Ug... Aug..." Venn muttered when he finally felt his son withdraw from his spent cock. Aug looked up at his father, a web of cum in his thick beard. Venn looked at how powerful his son had become, how big he had grown. He was so proud and so turned on. He grabbed his son by his shoulders and pulled him up and kissed him again. Aug grunted and growled, returning the kiss, lying against his father's strong, powerful body. Neither man felt as though they had lost anything. They had found each other, they had found a new purpose and they had found a future for themselves by finding the past.

****

Late afternoon sunlight cut through the high windows in the lab, cutting swaths of golden-orange light that came down at sharp angles across the lab, catching what particles of dust still hung in the air while the rest blanketed the tables and floors. The wall of sample cases had long since gone dark, the stasis containers having lost power some years prior. The laboratory had been left untouched, untended, forgotten... but some life, at least a glimmer of it, remained on the display at the front of the classroom.

Beneath a layer of dust, Duke continued to display his analysis of the strange mineral that had infected the skull brought back by Professor foster. It had taken far longer than even the digital assistant had anticipated, but the evidence was incontrovertible. What had appeared to be an element or even a basic molecule had turned out to be a form of polymorphic symbiote, a simultaneously complex and simple organism that required another living being to exist.

Doing what any good digital assistant would, Duke had tried to provide possible avenues of study based on the evidence provided. Was it possible that the symbiote had bonded with the early neanderthals, but then they had perished in a tragic accident and the symbiote waited all that time to try and save those it had connected with? Had the symbiote been weak upon its first gestation, but over time became stronger? Were there elements in the modern world, the modern atmosphere, that allowed them to be more prolific?

Each theory was annotated with a statistical margin of error, linked to a variety of networked articles and suppositions, but the last few lines were highlighted in red. There had been no new article entries in the last year, no updates to the server, no new papers or findings or blogs. Duke had reached out across the net and gotten no answer, although the artificial intelligence did pin news videos that might have had a possible bearing. The clips played out to the right side of the screen, fragments of the world that had evolved... or rather devolved... in the years since professor Foster's discovery.

The videos showed clashes of humans and neanderthals, attempts to suppress 'The Great Reversion'. There were pictures of athletes, social influencers, even entire schools of humans changing. The aesthetic, well manicured look of humanity had been replaced with the wild, powerful, natural charm of their cavemen ancestors. Even the animal kingdom had been affected as canines reverted to wolves, elephants to mammoths, and tigers and lions became saber toothed beasts. Every so often the video would show glimpses of the neanderthal the humans called Patient Zero. Venn had become a mighty leader of his kind. His hair had taken on some silver in places, his long beard had a streak in it, but he was still a mighty and vital hunter... and his son was still by his side. Blood was thicker than water, and family ran bone deep.