Pillow 32 - Rotten wood

(Man into ¿¿?? - TG)*

You might know the place.

The last house right at the end of your street.

It was old, decrepit, a ruinous abandoned building that everybody wonders how it hasn’t already fallen down and why nobody is putting in any effort to demolish it. It was the perfect location for some horror movie, there’s always some urban legend or two about it, shared like truth between the area’s young folk and the unscrupulous parents that wanted to scare their children.

Tales about spooky shadows in the windows, crackling screams on full moon nights, witches, ghouls or secret laboratories hidden in the basement…

People going missing when they dared to trespass.

All nonsense, of course.

It was just an abandoned house, used until it was wrecked and then wrecked a bit more beyond that. If you do dare to trespass you will only find broken glass, trash in every corner and paintings on the walls…

Probably.

Or so Tony thought.

For twenty one years Tony had been the terror of the neighbourhood, a living menace, the guy teachers feared and mother’s told their kids not to hang with. Lost bullet punk, was he the product of a broken home… or just rotten right to his heart?

Who could tell, his dad, who raised him alone, seemed a nice enough fella, he worked as an exterminator. Tony, with his purple mohawk and his baggy clothes, had dedicated his life to being a nuisance to him and the rest of the world as well.

Bad mouthed, violent, he’d been arrested a few times, and had never finished school. He drank and smoked and grew up to be a young man whose only goal was of becoming worse.

Maybe he would have remained a person if he had had a mother?

Was it possible for motherhood to solve any of his problems?

Nobody could tell… just as nobody who hadn’t read this tale could ever tell what motivated him to jump the fence, so covered in “no trespassing” signs, of that last house right at the end of your street at midday during the month of hallow’s end.

As so many had before him he just wanted to let off some steam, making the ancient building the target for his anger and frustration, whether they were real or imaginary. So many had done the same before him, why should this time be any different?

Tony had no worries or fears, nobody would care and he had no respect for the local legends, he was quite the disrespectful man after all. The sky was orange, he had a bottle of beer and as was his nature, he wanted to have some fun at the expense of someone or, in this case, something else.

For once it was a merciful decision on his part, even if it was going to cost him greatly.

Drinking his booze he climbed the small grassy slope and reached the house’s porch, he tried to open the door, but the door, barred with nails, didn’t budge.

He kicked the door and walked around the house, arriving at the backyard. There the grass was even taller, having grown to jungle heights. Tony crossed the small jungle, grumbling and drinking. At the nearest end of the backyard a tree from the edge of the forest that ran along the edge of the yard behind the house had collapsed onto the fence and lay resting in the dirt like a contorted arm trying to reach the building.

It was an odd sight, not because trees can’t fall, but because Tony didn’t remember there being a forest so close to his neighbourhood.

Near to the dead wood there was a convenient pile of rocks and bricks. He grabbed the largest one off the pile, tested out its weight and smiled.

“FUCK YOU!”

He threw the rock towards the building, the projectile hit a wall, cracking the surface and falling back onto the grass.

Tony grabbed another rock.

“FUCK YOU TWICE!”

This time he aimed too high and the stone ended up on the rooftop.

For a solid five minutes of pointless primal entertainment he continued throwing debris and rubble at the rear of the dilapidated structure, chuckling like a child every time he caused any noticeable damage.

The last brick he threw hit the bullseye, it crashed through the small round window at the top of the house, probably the one in the attic, and landed inside.

Tony howled happily.

“Whooooooooooooooo! A million points!” he drank his beer until it was dry, burped disappointedly and dropped the empty bottle, then sat down on the ground, leaning against the dead tree, feeling a bit sweaty after all the rock tossing. “Someone should set this garbage dump place on fire…” he mumbled. “Maybe I should do it, that would be fun to see…”

He closed his eyes.

A breeze stirred the grass and cooled his skin.

His heart beat fast.

Whispers echoing in the wind.

Ruler… Ruler… Ruler… Ruler…

Inside his pants his cock created a tent in their crotch. The heart beat got worse, he felt uncomfortable… itching…

Heat.

“Hmmmghhhh…”

Tony pulled at his shirt a couple of times, grunted, tried to get up, but dropped right back down onto his knees. Gasps, snorts, moving almost on automatic he opened his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear.

He looked down at his groin, his naked penis was fully erect, painfully erect, veiny, surrounded by his dark pubes. His balls dangling freely below.

The young man blinked, dizzy, the veins in his cock seemed to dilate, fluctuate, the flesh of his hardon pulsed in his fingers when he grabbed it from its base.

It burned.

“Nhhhhhh…”

The wind whispered.

Fertile… Fertile… Fertile… Fertile…

“H-Help…” he mumbled in a weak voice as he pumped his sex. “Help…”

His penis felt as if it was blocked, the tip was swelling, bloating, turning yellowish and pale. Segments were forming as the foreskin smoothed over.

“Nonononononononono…!”

Birth the clutch... Birth the clutch…

“NO!”

BIRTH THE CLUTCH!

Tony gave a back bending groan and his penis burst.

Not into cum, but eggs, tiny eggs.

Insect eggs.

Thanks to being an exterminator’s son he recognized their shape and colour as they dropped from his penis into his underwear. A clustered mass of shiny insignificant dots.

His balls shrank.

His heart hurt.

Termite eggs.

It was the time to panic.

“Help! Help me! I’m laying eggs! HELP ME!”

Sadly not a single ear was around to hear the pleas of a vanishing man. Tony tried once again to get up, only to completely drop down onto all fours. His cock hanging heavily from his crotch, still growing, quickly and absurdly, pulling him down. His scrotum diminished as his penis expanded, spreading his legs, completely pale, wider, several more and more all with segments marked by black lines.

He felt the cold of the soil with it.

No human penis, but the egg sack of the female insect he was doomed to become.

Tears were already flowing when he started to shrink and his whole body began to painfully contract over itself. Tony scratched at the dirt with his nails, then the fabric inside his sleeves as he disappeared inside the shirt.

“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!”

His boots dropped off, empty. Struggling with his clothes he slid out of them as he climbed up on top of his now way too large pants. Standing naked he put both hands on the gigantic sack that his dick had become, the only part of his body that seemed to remain large and heavy as everything else diminished. What was going on became as clear to him as it was absolutely absurd, having become half of his previous size it was obvious: He was shrinking… while transforming into a termite queen.

“Help! Help! Help!” he repeated on a loop, unable to think as his humanity was destroyed.

Half of half his original height, then smaller than the dead tree.

While screaming, crying and begging for help Tony walked away from his clothes dragging the egg sack between his legs. The shrinking progressed without a pause, certain to squash into nothing everything he had mistakenly considered himself to be. The entirety of his body hair, including that purple mohawk, detached and fell from his skin as if it was October’s foliage.

He watched his hands mutating at the same time as his feet, fingers and toes merging to become the same - the usual pointy appendages that bugs have for legs.

“Stop it! Stop it!” His voice sounded weak and high pitched.

Tony stumbled with his egg sack and fell forward, managing to keep some balance because his front legs landed on a nearby beer bottle. The one he was drinking a while ago, now bigger than he was. The man wished, wished with all of his heart to wake up from his living nightmare, but it was too real to ignore. Too real to ignore the pain of the changes, the weight of the eggs inside his bloated rear, the sight of his bald anguished face in the brown crystal of the last alcohol he would ever drink being disfigured by the metamorphosis. Eyes enlarge out of their sockets, turning a dull black, beneath them antenna sprout and shake as his skull flattens.

His mouth aches.

The bottle rolls slightly forward and Tony drops flat onto his belly, destined to never get up again. His being compressed over the egg sack that was meant to be his whole life.

Skin hardened and browned, segments formed, breathing becomes hard.

“Dad…! Daddy, come save me! DaddyyyyyyyyydddddGGHHH!”

You could have been in that backyard, standing right by Tony’s side during his sorry last moments as a human and not heard any of the wheezings of his dying voice. He shrieked as his jaw was reformed into pincer mandibles. A new third pair of legs sprouts between the other two, to make the six he needs now.

The stalks around are impossibly gigantic.

Tony wiggled his antenna in desperation.

“Pliiii… Pliiiii… Weee beee guuu kiiiiiii… Nuuu waaaa beee queeeee…”

Gone…

The orange sky began to darken, the wind fondled the tall grass.

In the old house’s backyard, hidden in the grass, were an empty pile of dirty clothes, unremarkable trash amongst many other discarded objects, not even the bug cum in the underwear worthy of a thought.

Out of sight of anyone, a termite queen slowly drags her body through the soil.

The shard of the rational human forever trapped in her insect brain cries and curses, curses that she didn’t even get to taste the freedom of flight before being tied to the large sack full of eggs that was her arse.

But such is her fortune.

Every inch gained takes her a great effort, she’s so hungry… but luckily there’s a big chunk of wood nearby, a dead tree, that she can feast on, carve a deep hole, a nest in which to birth her many, many, many, many children and finally be a good mother…

Wind fondles the grass.

No man...

Queen... Queen... Queen...

Another missing person, another urban myth soon to be added to the folklore of the last house at the end of the street.