Symbiont Part 1
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Symbiont, Part 2 free porn video
Symbiont, Part 2
Surprisingly, the S.T.A.R. building was located at the edge of town
next to a light industrial area, so that there would be traffic past
the building but seldom to the building. The idea was that even though
on a map it was within the borders of the city, it was actually in an
unexpectedly secluded area. Basil Karlo would never have found it had
it not for the information from his employer.
The intelligence brief had been concise but accurate to every detail.
It had told Basil that the plain-looking hallway that he had just
passed through was embedded with hidden cameras that were intricately
coupled with the building security system. It told him that he had
three-and-a-half minutes for this elevator to arrive before the
security patrol passed by this area again.
The elevator arrived in thirty seconds. Basil stepped inside and turned
to the control panel. Extracting a pencil-like object from his lab coat
pocket, he waved it over the sensor, and on the flat plate a small
glowing square appeared, the size of a postage stamp.
Smiling, Basil pressed his right thumbprint against it.
Words appeared on the flat plate: "Recognized: Camilla Parois. Enter
destination floor."
His employer had been right again, Basil thought as he punched the
button for ground level. But then again, was there anything they
couldn't find out, if they could discover that he, Basil Karlo, was
Clayface?
He looked at his fingers. Dainty, slender, feminine; they were, like
the rest of him, an exact duplicate of Camilla Parois. But now, even
the fingerprints were Camilla's! He brought his fingertips close to his
eyes, admiring the fine ridges and whorls that mimicked those of the
real Dr. Parois. It took some concentration to maintain the shape, but
it was sufficient to fool the fingerprint sensor, even if it caused
some stinging in his fingertips.
Actually, it caused quite a bit of stinging and it was getting worse.
Basil flexed his fake Camilla fingers and released his concentration on
the fingerprint details, but instead of reverting to smooth fingertips,
the fingerprints stayed.
The stinging was now spreading down his fingers to his hands, and
getting more and more fiery by the second. With consternation, Basil
pulled at the skin on his fingers. To even touch his own fingers caused
a sharp burning pain. And now it was spreading up his arm toward his
shoulder. Basil recalled his employer's admonition.
"The S.T.A.R. Lab report states that the irradiated alien skin is inert
against human skin," he was told, "but when bonded to such a dynamic
tissue as yours, Clayface, who knows what sort of energy or essence it
can absorb? I advise you not to sample the alien skin."
But Basil had worn it, with no ill effects at the time, until he
concentrated with enough intensity to mimic fingerprints of the woman
he was impersonating. Then suddenly he was in agony, now spreading to
most of his body. He needed to get away, somewhere unseen where he
could deal with this unexpected threat.
The elevator doors opened onto the spacious entrance lobby and Basil
hurried out. Twenty more steps to escape.
At twelve steps to go, the alarm sounded.
"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" came the voice over the whoop-whoop
of the klaxon.
Basil kept going; if he stayed nonchalant enough, without making any
sudden moves to draw attention to himself, he would still make it.
Across the lobby, there was a pair of security guards standing nearby,
who called out to another one stationed at the front desk. "What's
going on, Jim?"
Eight steps to go for Basil.
"Something on the twelfth floor, something stolen by an intruder," said
Jim, reading the messages appearing on his security console.
Four more steps.
"There's more," continued the guard seated at the front desk. "Two
injuries, one severe. Suspect is considered armed and dangerous."
He was at the door. Swiftly, the innocent-looking woman wearing a lab
coat and ponytail pushed the handle of the front door.
It would not budge.
"And," concluded Jim, "the entire building is under lockdown."
The pair of security guards unholstered their weapons. "Shit, does that
mean we have to take the stairs?" muttered one.
Basil pushed against the door again. It was locked, the front door
being the only thing between him and freedom.
One of the guards noticed the woman in the lab coat standing inside the
front door. She pushed against the door again, but it wouldn't budge.
"Uh, 'scuse me, miss," he called out. "You can't leave right now.
There's a security alert."
She looked at him and stopped pushing against the door, but said
nothing.
"Jim, do we have a description of the suspect?"
"Yeah, it should be coming through any minute," said Jim.
The guard looked again at the woman standing at the door. She was
fidgeting nervously with her fingers, as if trying to pick at her own
skin.
"Are you okay, miss?" asked the guard. She looked at him briefly and
nodded, but then started rubbing her chin with her hand.
"Here it is, description of the suspect!" said Jim, his eager eyes on
the console where the message was scrolling up.
The woman was twisting her body somewhat, as if the lab coat was itchy
and chafing against her body.
"The suspect," read Jim aloud, "is likely to be in disguise and a
description is unlikely to be of use. Aww, what the hell is that
supposed to mean? Can't we at least get an estimated height or
something?"
"You sure that's what it says?" asked the guard, coming close to the
front desk.
The next moment, there was a great cry, almost like a roar, as the
woman at the door took a step back and then launched herself at the
door. Her head and shoulder struck the door at the same time, the
impact causing a reverberating boom in the spacious entry hall. But the
door held.
Instantly the guns came out in the hands of both security guards and
even Jim at the console stood up.
"Hey you!" shouted one of them. "Stay where you are and get your hands
up!"
She was lying face down on the floor now, apparently writhing in pain.
"I said now!" The two guards spread to either side of the lobby,
preventing both from being attacked at the same time, while Jim stepped
out from behind the front desk, gun in his hand.
The woman was grunting in pain, her cries unlike any woman. She rolled
over to face up and began to claw at her own face with her hands.
"Put your hands up!" repeated the guard. "We are authorized to use
deadly force!"
She was sitting up now, clawing at her own lab coat. As the buttons
popped off, the lab coat swung open.
She was naked.
She turned her head to look at the guard on the left, and suddenly ran
at him. He was taken by surprise for a moment, but Jim and the guard on
the right were ready. Two guns spewed a stream of automatic fire,
shredding the running woman. Her naked skin, and the trailing lab coat
fluttering behind her, were peppered with bullet holes.
She kept running, the bullet holes in her skin oozing some sort of
putrid-coloured goo. With one leap she tackled the guard on the left,
knocking him to the ground.
"Aaargh!" she cried, and it was the cry of an animal. Sitting atop the
guard, she raised her arm as if to strike, and the guard turned away to
protect his face, but she was actually clawing her own face, tearing it
open. It came away in a thick layer, with some muddy goop stuck to it
as it came off. Beneath it, a ragged semi-face of mud with a pair of
eyes stared down at him. For a moment, it almost seemed to the
prostrate guard that the muddy face almost looked like himself. Then
the face cried, "Noo! Leeching my power..." and the creature fell back.
Jim and the other guard approached slowly as Jim pressed his personal
communicator button. "Intruder in front lobby! Security to front
lobby!"
The prone guard scrambled out from underneath the bullet-ridden woman
whose face had been torn off, but then she leaned forward and grabbed
his leg. "Give me your keys!" she said, and swiped at his hip. There
was a tearing sound, and then she had the keys in her hand, still
hanging from the belt still attached to a piece of the uniform
trousers, which was still attached to a piece of the guard's bloody hip
flesh now in her hand. Then she was up again and running for the front
door, screaming while tearing at her own chest.
The instant she separated from the guard on the floor, a hail of
bullets showered her again, following her beeline for the door. Little
puffs of smoke accompanied every bullet that sank into her. Still she
continued, standing at the door trying to fit the key into the lock.
Now even the injured guard on the floor was firing, the stream of
artillery fire walking across her legs, and then they collapsed into
mud. She had lost half a metre of height, still upright like a midget
standing on a mudpile, her arms reaching up for the lock on the door.
Then she turned the key, and the door opened.
As the gunfire paused for a moment, she turned her faceless face to the
guards. "So long, suckers!" she called out.
And she leapt at the door just as the guards renewed the hailstorm of
gunfire, her lab coat fluttering behind her, the gunfire just missing
her muddy body, instead cutting open the lab coat, the trailing half of
the lab coat dropping just inside the door as it closed behind her. The
half of the lab coat fell to the floor with a thud, and then from its
pocket came rolling a small sealed glass jar containing a black viscous
liquid.
As the jar slowly rolled to a stop two metres from the door, the
elevator doors opened on the other side of the lobby and six security
guards poured out, guns at the ready. They each took up their
positions.
Everything was quiet.
The six guards stood in spread formation, guns aimed forward; the
injured guard lay on the floor, staring in shock at the front door
where the creature had so recently passed; Jim and the other guard
stood stock still.
Two of the six guards moved forward cautiously. "Where is the
intruder?" asked one.
For a long moment, no one answered. The glass jar lay on its side near
the front door, its viscous contents slowly flowing to the lower half
of the jar under the pull of gravity.
"Gone," answered the injured guard finally.
The front door opened again.
Standing there was a creature half-covered in human skin, a grotesque
distortion of the human female form, wearing the top half of a lab coat
riddled with bullet holes. Behind it, a torrential rainstorm sent a
blast of wind blowing into the lobby.
"Mine," said the creature simply. Then it reached down for the glass
jar on the floor.
The six guards in formation fired simultaneously as muddy fingers
closed about the glass jar. But it was not bullets that came from their
muzzles, but a stream of pulsatile laser fire. Each line of fire was
traced by a barely visible line of light, but where they struck, an
intense burst of light and sparks erupted against the mud creature's
body. It gave a roar of pain as it fell backwards and sat down hard,
but in its right hand was the glass jar. Then it scrambled and pushed
against the door.
In a unified solid formation, the six guards advanced, their laser
rifles raining on the creature as it staggered through the door into
the driving rain. Before the door had closed again, the guards were
pushing open the door, the other guards behind them instinctively
holding their fire so as not to strike their own comrades.
The stone steps outside S.T.A.R. Labs that led up to its front entrance
were slick with rain as the six laser-toting guards poured through the
door. Six streams of laser fire struck the creature, some on its legs.
It stumbled with a cry and fell down the stairs, the glass jar slipping
from its grasp and rolling down the stone steps. In the rain, the mud
creature seemed to dissolve into a large smear of dirt, slopping
swiftly down the steps, leaving behind pieces of tattered skin that
washed down the steps in the rain.
The guards pursued, laser rifles at the ready, trying to locate the
creature that had seemingly collapsed into a pile of mud. One guard
noticed the glass jar rolling down the steps and went after it. As the
jar rolled past each step and impacted on the next lower step, the
glass cracked progressively. At the very bottom step the guard caught
up with the jar and reached for it...
The steps were too slippery, and he slipped, banging his head on the
ground instead. Lying supine on the stone, he noticed the jar rolling
past him and reached out for it, but it was just beyond his grasp, and
continued rolling past the curb, into the street. The guard scrambled
to his feet and ran after it, but it had vanished from view. His eyes
scanned the area up and down, settling eventually on the storm sewer
drain where the curb met the street, all the mud and rainwater from the
storm flowing into that drain.
Dr. Camilla Helene Parois was indignant. "Are you saying that you found
nothing out of the ordinary with me stripping naked and trying to
seduce you?" she demanded of Peter Parker.
"Hey, leave the guy alone, Cam," said Forrest. "Can't you see he's
trying to recover from being poisoned?"
Forrest and Camilla were standing beside the hospital bed of Peter
Parker, surrounded by all the advanced monitoring equipment that could
only be found at the medical treatment facility of S.T.A.R. Labs. An
infusion entered his elbow by intravenous catheter.
"Besides," continued Forrest, "if I saw you naked, I probably couldn't
think straight either." He gazed at Camilla's lab coat, trying to
imagine her naked body underneath the white material.
Before Camilla could retort, Peter said, "It's my fault." His voice was
weak, and his eyes were barely open. "I should have trusted my spider
sense. Sorry, Dr. Parois. You were just too beautiful."
Even Camilla couldn't resist a slight smile. "Well, since my impostor
said it was okay to call me Camilla, you can feel free to do so," she
said. "You don't mind if I call you Peter, do you? Forrest has told me
so much about you."
"Peter's fine," he replied, "as long as you resist calling me..."
"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties into a wad," interrupted Forrest.
"It's the first time you've been conscious in the past five days."
"So, did he get away?" asked Peter. He didn't have to specify who he
was talking about.
"We're not sure," said Forrest. "Apparently the guards turned him into
a mudpie, but they couldn't recover any of his body."
"What about the sample of symbiont?"
"We're still looking for it," said Camilla. "It's been five days, and
it doesn't look good. The good news is, it got away from Clayface,
too."
"This is all my fault," moaned Peter.
"Well, the concern here is the irradiated sample out in the wild, but
other than that we haven't had that much harm done," Forrest pointed
out. "You're recovering, Clayface didn't get what he wanted, and we can
always breed more symbiont and recreate the sample. And besides, look
what we have here."
He held up what looked like a flesh-coloured piece of fabric. It was
the skin of a human foot, dangling floppily like a limp sock from
between his forefinger and thumb. The toenails were painted red.
"Isn't that my foot?" asked Camilla.
Peter stared at the piece of skin. "Is that from..."
"This is the only piece we recovered," said Forrest. "Somehow it seems
to have bonded to Clayface's tissue, so it's not quite liquid any more.
We'll do more tests on it, but let me show you what we've found so
far."
So saying, he pulled the skin over his head.
The ragged opening of the skin stretched easily as Forrest's head
pushed into the foot, distorting it.
"That's disgusting, foothead!" cried Camilla.
But the skin continued to slowly stretch until the five toes that had
been poking up were now pulled flat, and it looked like Forrest's head
was inside a thick balloon.
Then coloured markings started appearing on the skin covering Forrest's
face, black and red streaks that coalesced into lips and brows. Then
more facial features appeared, a nose, ears, eyelids. Then Forrest took
his hand and swept it over his scalp, and light brown hair spilled
forth, pulling back into a ponytail, as the skin coalesced into a human
face.
Forrest was wearing Camilla's head.
"Wow," said Peter.
"Alright, that's quite enough," snapped Camilla.
Forrest pulled off the face covering his own. "I'm not sure how much it
stretches, or whether it can grow bigger over time. I wish we had more
pieces to run tests on, but who knows where the storm sewers have
washed all the pieces to."
"Yeah," said Peter. "Who knows."
Started 2004-11-29 finished 2004-12-02
Author's note: Did anyone find any other pieces of skin? Where did the
jar of alien symbiont go? Did any of it leak out? Readers are
encouraged to use this "starter story" as a launching point for their
own stories. Note that you don't really need to involve any of the
characters in this story, unless you want to.
Astute readers may be quick to point out that "symbiote" is now
accepted as a word as well, at least according to the Merriam-Webster
Online Dictionary. Even if a cyberdictionary that displays ads on its
cyberpages is considered by the reader to be authoritative, s/he might
note that the entry to "symbiote" refers to the entry "symbiont", but
not the other way around, making the latter the more appropriate word.
A trip to the Oxford English Dictionary (against which an American
dictionary can hardly claim superior authority) shows "symbiont" to be
a major entry of its own, whereas "symbiote" is merely a sub-entry
under "symbiosis" that furthermore has the principal meaning of "the
combination of two organisms in symbiosis"; only secondarily is it
taken to mean "one of the two organisms in symbiosis".
As many readers will note, Spider-Man is a member of the universe of
Marvel Comics, whereas S.T.A.R. Labs and Clayface belong to the DC
Comics universe. My artistic license in mixing the two up is, I think,
excusable given that even DC and Marvel have undertaken joint ventures
for various comic issues. The only other thing I need to say is that
all trademarks of Marvel or DC which appear in my text are the
trademarks of Marvel or DC. Bet you didn't know that before I told you,
huh?
Enjoy.
Author's 2nd note (2006-03-29)
This note is added as part of the story submission to Fictionmania.tv.
For the original author's note, please see above.
This is the second half of my second submission to Fictionmania.tv.
This story was written in one piece, but posted in two halves for a
more manageable file size (as opposed to the first part being posted
before the second part was completed). It first appeared in the Yahoo!
group Maskfiction2 (now defunct), and has been reposted in the
successor to that group, MaskingWriter. It was posted prior to
(and the story takes place prior to) "Fission", even though "Fission"
was posted at Fictionmania.tv first.
I am grateful to the creators and maintainers of Fictionmania.tv for
having this venue for me to publish, if you will, my works for a wider
audience. The "reviews" mechanism lets me get feedback from my readers.
Still, it's not quite the same as an email forum like the Yahoo!
groups, and I can't respond as quickly to reader comments. Some of you
have written email to me directly, and I try to respond, but it would
be such a boon to discuss as a group rather than me having a multitude
of one-on-one conversations with each of you - it's not just a matter
of me having enough time to write to y'all, but more so that I think
you readers can feed off each other's ideas.
And so, to respond to readers, I find myself adding this wordy
"Author's 2nd note" which, if I'm not careful, will end up longer than
the story itself. I would encourage you to join the Yahoo! group and
discuss there, but there's a catch: MaskingWriter's mandate is about
using masks to disguise as females, including women masking themselves
as other women. It's not quite the same as Fictionmania.tv, which is
about crossing gender lines, but not necessarily using masks. You might
want to try my new Yahoo! group that I started, right now it's
only for me to post my stories, and the email list is blissfully quiet
(*zero* messages so far - ahhh, the peace!), but I wonder if I should
take advantage of its existence to be a forum for readers.
About the story: readers such as Crazy Baron have asked if the story
universe is still open to contribution from other authors and the
answer is: yes! In fact, "Symbiont" is the establishing story for the
universe, and "Fission" is actually just an example story that would
follow from this. You don't have to use any of the characters from
either story, as the storyline is designed for you to fork off without
the hassle of a great deal of explanation. At least one reader has
(privately) shown me a continuation, which differs somewhat from
"Fission" in what the symbiont can or cannot do. It's okay to have that
variation, which is easily explained: the pieces of the symbiont took
varying paths as it was washed out with the sewage. Who knows what
particular sewage each piece encountered, which gave it properties
unique to that piece? I'll resist the temptation to say, "No no, that's
not the way my story goes!" because I would rather have more people
freely share their creativity; I think we would be all the richer for
it.
For more background on the symbiont, you may wish to refer to
wikipedia, where you'll find
that Marvel Comics has already provided the symbiont many useful
abilities, such as the "extradimensional pocket" that can store things
like Peter Parker's camera... or any cumbersome body parts from a male
body that wouldn't be found on a female body... Between that and
Clayface's shapeshifting ability, you should have enough material for
many a titillating tale.
I eagerly await your fiction!
Sherry
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