Hive Ch.1
Part of this idea came to me a in a dream. Thought I might write it down.
Pain. Cold. It had been waiting in the void for so, so long. A seed of a race long departed or long dead, It did not know or particularly care. What had woken it from its millenia-long slumber was approaching. A world of blues and greens and whites, inviting little speck growing bigger by the hour.
More pain. Heat. The force of an impact. Its shell broke upon landing, as it was supposed to, and freed Its larval form. It needed a host. Such life. Such DIVERSITY... It had more options that Its makers had ever planned, from grain-sized insects to strange, four-legged balls of fur. But Its attention was on the dominant lifeforms. Bipedal. Hominid. Still of staggering diversity. Determined, It headed for the nearest solitary signature.
Feed. Grow. Survive.
Julian was passed out on his couch, books arrayed around the coffee table, end table, the cushion beneath him, and atop his chest. He'd sworn he was only going to close his eyes for a moment, a quick break before he resumed studying, but that nap had turned into a full sleep. He snored gently, oblivious to the thing squirming into the open window towards him.
It was impossible to tell whether the thing was organic or technological; it squirmed like a worm or insect, but the angles of its body were impossibly regular for anything alive, and the few lights from the street caught on patterns in its skin that would look at home in a computer's innards. It fell off the sill with a dull thunk, then skittered its way towards the sleeping figure. Julian twitched as it bumped into his shoe, but didn't seem to respond as the creature climbed up his pant leg, towards his chest.
Five minutes later, Julian was no more. Neither was the creature. The entity on the couch grunted and shifted, still asleep, circuit patterns glinting faintly just beneath his skin.
Awake. It... no, he... sat up, ignoring the books that fell to the ground around him. Memories and experiences warred and settled in the new being blinking at the room around him. He had crashed to earth some hundreds of feet from here, and was pleased to realize that he identified more as the being in the pod. Had It chosen a stronger will, he would be much more scared now, alien impulses overwhelming him, coupled with his new power.
As it stood, though, he was calm. Rational. He stood and headed for the bathroom and the mirror. Julian had a mental image of himself, of course, but examination of his memories found them annoyingly subjective.
Ah. He was short. In general, but especially for his type. Long muzzle, short fur, swiveling ears, and a line of long hair down his neck and sprouting from his tail. The memories of Julian supplied a word: "Horse." He rolled the word in his mouth, tasting it. "Hoooorse... Horssss-uh..." He tilted his head, remembering.
"Stallion."
He flushed. No one would call him that. He was too short, too skinny. A disappointed longing from Julian's ego was given description by the being's. He was an inferior male specimen, a runt. Unlikely to be selected for breeding by females. Socially weak, a target and victim. This would not do. He had to survive. He had to breed, to reproduce. The remains of the pod sat lodged in his head, nestled against his brain stem. His fingers ran across the small puncture wound healing on his neck. A treasure of knowledge, awaiting the proper resources. Even the being didn't know what it was.
The being would have preferred a more ready specimen. As it stood, he would have to work to... The horse blinked and snorted, momentarily confused as the two portions of his psyche warred once more. What was left of Julian fought to regain himself, while the being assuaged him. This would not work, he was too independent, too clever... There would need to be cooperation. A melding. He meant no harm, he just needed to live. Power was promised. Wealth. Luxury. Sex...
Oh yes, there would be sex. There needed to be more of them. They had to survive.
The being looked back at himself in the mirror. "Julian. I am -still- Julian." He paused, then grinned. "No. Jude. New body, new name. Now..." Feed. Grow. Survive. In order to survive he would have to grow. In order to grow he would have to feed. Jude clopped into the kitchen, pulling the fridge open, scanning it.
Calories. Bulk. Raw materials and energy. Proteins, minerals... Jude craved iron and... dirt? Ah. His other half supplied the answer to that. His new body needed more exotic materials. But, he wouldn't need to resort to eating dirt. Good. He reached for the milk, as well as the remains of the pizza from last night. He unscrewed the cap of the gallon jug and began to gulp it down, setting the plate onto the counter and going for the pantry. He paused only long enough to take large breaths, slowly and surely draining the jug as more food joined the pizza. A box of saltine crackers, cans of beans, cereal (should have saved some of the milk for that), oats, dried beef jerky... an entire bag of sugar.
Energy. Raw materials. This would do to get started. He stood at the counter and tossed aside the empty jug of milk. The pizza went first, followed by the jerky. After that, Jude was slower than he would have liked. The crackers dried his mouth, as did the sugar. Glass after glass of water washed down the bizarre meal until all of it - cereal, crackers, beans, and sugar - were nothing more than empty containers strewn about the kitchen.
Part of him wanted the material in the containers, too. Another part caused him to look down at the gurgling swell of his stomach. It bulged out above his pants, making him look slightly pregnant as his stomach strained to hold and process it all. Adding cardboard and steel to that did not sound wise. He sighed contentedly, then let out a large belch. Now, time to fix this body... His limbs lengthened, muscles going into overdrive as they repaired and built up. He could feel his skin tightening, struggling to keep pace with his growing musculature and stature. His nerves interpreted this massive rewrite of his body as pleasure, to reinforce his desire to complete the process. His stomach gurgled and shrank, the food being processed superhumanly quickly into bone and muscle and tissue. All too soon it was over. Instead of being a stick, he was... wiry. His five foot nothing height had been added to by two more inches, and his clothes hung strangely on his body. He pulled off his shirt. Every muscle was clearly visible beneath his skin, twitching and shifting with every motion.
"A start..." He murmured, turning... and collapsing. Problems. Pain. He had been too zealous. What little fat he had had before his binge and growth had been used as well, leaving him critically undernourished. His joints hurt. Mentally kicking himself for his stupidity, he grimaced and got to his knees. "More..."
Jude had underestimated how much energy his new body would need to run. His body craved energy. Fat. This woefully inefficient thing they called a metabolism nearly killed him. Beyond caring about leaving the fridge open any longer, his hands went for the meat drawer. The entirety of it was emptied, from the three pounds of ground beef to the sausages and the ready-to-cook porkchops. In a moment of clarity, he then went for the box a little further up. Four sticks of butter descended into his stomach without a second thought. Jude flopped against the cabinets, letting his body catch up. Once more. Slowly.
Methodically, the equine demolished his entire pantry. He worked as he ate, keeping pace with the food shoveled into his mouth, packing on pound after pound of bone and muscle as he worked through the fridge. After that, he went drawer by drawer of the pantry, then the cabinets, finishing his binge with the freezer. He scooped the last of the tub of ice cream with a finger, licked it clean, then tossed the empty container onto the top of the pile around his ankles. He was huge. Julian's ideal of himself and then some. Seven feet tall, broader in one shoulder than his entire body had been a scarce two hours ago, and completely muscle. His breaths came in long and even, making his chest expand and ripple with pent-up power, and every twitch of his body made his muscles bunch and flex in a symphony of raw, primal power. Two legs like steel girders, and massive hooves and hands that promised only further growth.
He grinned, taking in his body for the first time. Unsurprisingly, his attention was soon riveted by the instrument between his legs. A cock that could put any two other stallions' cocks to shame, crowning a scrotum just small enough for him to cup in both of his massive hands. Somewhere along the line he had torn out of his pants, and he flicked an errant piece of denim off of his erection, gazing proudly as he watched it throb and grow to its full three feet. Despite the pleasure in his loins and body, not a single drop of precum came forth. It was mass, it was power, and he wasn't going to waste it on simple pleasure. Not yet.
He headed for the bedroom, snatching up the potted plant on the countertop. The old him was a bit of a plant lover, and had a half dozen lying about the house. They would do. He collected them all and took them with him, arranging them around the bed before flopping into it himself. The bed creaked and protested, but held. Barely.
Now, he could slake his lust. He whinnied softly and stroked his erection. Immediately, pleasure shot through him. It was more intense than Julian had ever experienced, and the entity was never told to expect such things. His other hand massaged his massive balls, making him moan in pleasure and arousal. His plans were already being rewritten. The process would be slower, but oh would it feel GOOD.
Finally he began to leak pre. Thick, silvery, and strange pre. It rolled down his length in great ropes, and his heavy pumping sent it flying from the tip in great globs. Oh, he was close. Part of him knew that this was fast, that a proper build up would feel even better, but right now he didn't care. He wanted this, wanted the powerful orgasm to go with this new, powerful body. He tensed, back arched, and gasped sharply.
His cock throbbed and spat, shooting great ropes of cum into the air. They shimmered and glistened in the light, then shifted... arcing impossibly through the air, his seed landed onto the plants around his bed, splattering the leaves, the stalks, pooling in the pots, and catching the edges of the bed with his potency. Jules panted, moaning, his body allowed to relax after a prolonged orgasm that would have utterly blacked out his former self. As it was, though, he simply basked in the pleasure coursing through his body, and waited.
It didn't take long. Pinpricks of awareness interrupted his dozing afterglow. Light. Sunshine. Warmth. Moistness around his feet and clean air in his leaves... He grinned lazily as the last of his cum seeped into the plants all about him. They, like him, were now glimmering faintly beneath the skin, fractal patterns of vaguely artificial nature as they began to grow, to change, to meld to Jules' needs. Plants. So much possibility there...
Gingerly, he began to redistribute them around the house, positioning them where they were each most comfortable, their strange, plant-like thoughts making a small chorus of background noise in his head. He could feel them. They, in their limited way, could feel him. In many respects, they were now a single organism. He had begun.
But he was nowhere close to finished.