The Swarm
Part one of three

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by Adagiodajiang

Something was wrong. Sandor’s ears twitched anxiously, though the white fox tried to not pass his anxiety on to Alyssa, his doe-taur partner. The ship was functioning…fine, he guessed. Essential functions were still in place and the ship was still traversing the galaxy, heading to planet X963-OM. That was okay, but…things were not quite right there. 

The crew. No, the fox wasn’t the captain of the ship, just an engineer, but his crewmates seemed to be slowly disappearing. One day, Samuel was missing from the mess hall and the next there was no one working alongside him in the loading dock, tools set down as if they had only been there a few moments ago. When he checked, even those steering the ship and adjusting their course were gone – and some would have said they were some of the most vital components of managing the ship.

“I don’t like this,” the deer-taur said nervously, one morning when the ship seemed even more eerily quiet than usual, the ship’s log hugged to her chest as she backed up against the door to the escape pods. “Sandor… Sandor, I think we should go!”

But it was already too late, the monsters already crawling towards them, one black leg edging around the corner as if it was feeling its way. But it was not a leg, regardless of how it behaved with an insect-like quality to it, the light flickering above him as Sandor pushed Alyssa behind him, defending his partner to his last breath. No… It was a hand and an arm as a black, chitin-encased creature crawled around the corner, more and more flooding in.

Alyssa squealed, breath stolen by fear where it may otherwise have been a scream, and Sandor shouted, brandishing his energy pistol, even if it would do no good against the creatures. With gaping mandibles and dripping fangs – though they didn’t seem to drool saliva but something thick and gooey with a yellow-green hue – they came for them, a horde.

And yet… Oh, he never would say so to Alyssa, but there was fur poking through here and there, showing between insect-like plates covering their bodies, antennae quivering wantonly. As they crawled towards him, hunkering down and chattering like the giant insectoid beasts they were, he realised with a shuddering ripple of horror that all was not as it seemed.

For the creatures, if they could even be called that, were not just monsters but his former crew mates, a deer antler sticking out there and a tuft of blue fur from the wolf who had been the second in command. His stomach churned, yet Sandor forced it down, for that was all he could do, brandishing his weapon like it was going to save him. His paw shook terribly but the creatures seemed more interested in him, diverting to one side of the hallway and leaving a gap.

He cursed under his breath, taking strength from adrenaline, and slammed his paw onto the access panel for the escape pods. It was no surprise to him that it had already been disabled, blaring a “no access” wail that he didn’t need to turn around in order to see.

“Go!”

He pushed Alyssa in front of him – towards the gap in the insectoids. The doe-taur stumbled over her own cloven hooves, but fear kicked her into action, flight taking hold at the opportune moment. Leaving her lover behind, though her heart ached for him, she did as he bid and fled, hooves skittering as she hurled herself into motion beyond the insectoids.

And then the creatures were upon him, a green and blue beam of energy lancing through the air as he shot valiantly, though the chattering mass of hissing insectoids was far too close for him to miss. Yet his energy gun did not pierce their hardened shells in the slightest, bouncing off and causing them no harm. One grabbed his arm, pincer-like fingers curling around his wrist, and he yelled as he yanked it away, ears pinned flat to his skull and chest heaving.

“Get off me!”

It was such a pathetic thing to say when he was as overwhelmed as he was and he snarled helplessly as they dragged him down, scrabbling at his hip holster for his other gun. That had cruder bullets, laced with metals from far-off planets, but the more sensible part of his mind had little hope that it would work either. True to form, when he steadied the gun and let off several bullets, they merely bounced harmlessly off the insectoid’s exoskeletons, their bodies too well-protected for him to do anything at all to them.

In their sharp, biting hands, he was dragged away, guns falling to the side, kicking and howling: as if that did any good. They hauled him away, dragged him down the corridors as his back slammed into the floor, and tossed him into the engine room with its grinding clanks and softer hums. Parts of the ship, after all, were older than others and it was not a particularly fancy vessel.

“Argh… No… No, don’t…”

The pleading whine was on his lips, though it pained him to breathe life into it. Yet the engine room was not as he’d seen it before, nearly every surface, behind the grind of the engine working in the background, was covered in biomass, a hexagonal hive stretching from floor to ceiling. His eyes rose, hardly daring to look there, but the pods dangling from the top of the room shook and hollered, their trapped occupants seemingly already knowing their fate.

The rest of his crewmates… Sandor shuddered, raking in a staggering breath that hurt in his chest. His boots skidded through creep on the floor as he was shoved down, the tortured cries of his crew mates echoing through his head. There were more pods on the walls, though some of those looked ripe and empty with a green hue to them, as if they were waiting for new occupants.

And then one of the creatures, larger than the others, stepped out from the back of what could only be a hatchery. It reared up tall, parting its mandibles, a long, roiling hiss pouring from its mouth. There was no trace of another creature about him and some part of his mind noted, dimly, that it must have been the origin species.

If only they’d known…

“Sssssssgrrrrrkkkkkssssss…”

He shivered, but the insectoid put a clawed finder under his chin, forcing him to look up at it.

“Finally…” It breathed, speaking up. “Sssssrrrrrkkkk… The Vyraxi have taken you, your ship. You are the final of your species to be transformed. That you evaded my grasp this long is an honour… Ssssrrrrrrhisssss.”

Their speech was interspaced with hisses and clacks from the mandibles, though he could understand them wall enough. The raking of breath in his lungs and the pounding of his heartbeat covered up more of it, the fox down on his knees and pinning his ears.

“I’ll never let you transform me – not into one of you!” He spat, tail tucked down fearfully. “Turn them back – now!”

“Oh, that’sss not possible,” the Vyraxi hissed, raising its head in pleasure. “The Queen has taken a deep interest in the civilisation of furries… You are warmly welcomed into the swarm. Ggggrrrrkkkssssss…”

His former crewmates grabbed him by his arms and wrestled him into one of the sickly green pods, shoving his chest in and then his head, though Sandor fought tooth and claw not to go in. The pod seemed to have a film that could be slid over the opening of it, closing him in, but it didn’t give even a little when he pounded his fists against it from the inside. A hazy, misty substance covered the film that locked him in, but he could still see the figures of the insectoids moving about, as blurry as they were.

And then thick fluid slopped into the hatchery pod, swimming around him as it clung to his fur, burning. A blood-curdling scream that struck terror into his own heart grabbed at his throat and he thrashed, fighting to swipe it off him, to scramble up and out of the deluge. Yet it oozed over his head and clung to every inch of him as his body ached deeply, the dully throbbing only countered by the sharp, blistering burn.

Yet he could not fight, blinking as his limbs grew heavier and heavier, and the fox slumped within the pod, a broken sob in his throat. He didn’t know how much time passed as he bore through the seemingly endless pain, until the front of the pod split, from top to bottom. The fox had not realised he’d been leaning against it, tipping out over the edge with one arm and his chest, a low groan rolling from his lips. It was so quiet, so weak, he may not have made any sound at all.

His body bristled, like the hairs on his body were thickening up and becoming spikier, more insect-like, but it was truly far more horrific than that. Skin and fur sloughed away in places to reveal dark plates of chitin, monstrously transforming. He tried to scream, but no sound came out, fingers twitching as his claws hardened and elongated, matching those of the Vyraxi he’d already seen.

His skull burned as a pair of antennae sprouted from his head, bursting from his scalp as if they’d been there all along, Sandor’s stomach roiling and heaving. Yet he felt everything they did, even if he could not yet control how they twitched back and forth, the fox’s chest heaving for life-giving breath despite his fate. 

All one…

Dominate…

Control…

Make new civilisations…

All must be Vyraxi…

All one…

The hive mind of the insectoids, the Vyraxi. He shuddered from it, but there was nowhere for Sandor to go physically or mentally, not even as most of his body burst through with chitin, covering even his head. Even the white fur of his tail was gone with only a sliver showing in the middle of the underside, though his body was far from vulnerable. 

He didn’t get a chance to recover before he was hauled out from the hatchery pod by the shoulders, though he didn’t know who had him in their claws. The Vyraxi, who had once been a furry, stood above him, dragging him backwards and bundling him into another pod. Another of the creatures forced his legs in too as the film slid closed over him with a wet, sucking sound.

“The first pod reshaped your outer shell, sssssrrrkkkksssss,” he explained, for it seemed like a male, coldly, unfeelingly. “The second reforges your flesh. You will be a proper Vyraxi drone…like ussss…”

The hisses tangling through his tone coloured his speech and Sandor groaned.

“For this, ggrrrruuunnnn…we need your essence. DNA.”

There was a shorter, more stilted quality to that Vyraxi’s voice, but Sandor didn’t care to know whether they were really an insectoid or one who had once been a furry. It didn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things.

At least Alyssa got away…

He grunted and squirmed, but he was nothing of a match against the probing, twisting tentacle-like appendages wiggling out from the sides of the pod. They curled around him, even his throat, trapping him in place, as one sucked at his crotch, pulling his flaccid cock into its slimy, clinging embrace. Sandor gasped, eyes wide and strained, but the hard, black body before him didn’t even look like anything he could recognise as “him.” Maybe that was part of the way of losing himself to the hive mind.

Still, he resisted, even as another tendril speared up into his asshole, stretching him around a slippery length that at least somewhat eased the process. Yet the fox was still prey to pleasure as it shot a pulse of stimulation into his prostate, his back arching. A breathless cry broke his lips, throat tight with emotion, and the fox bucked his hips, a part of his mind not sure whether to hold back or scrabble away, torn between whatever would be best in that moment.

Give in…

New Vyraxi…

One of us…

Ours…

One of the swarm…

“Tzzzzssss…”

The Vyraxi grunted and hissed around the outside of the pod, yet Sandor barely heard them all there, prowling down on all fours, the dark spikes on their backs jutting up threateningly. Yet the real threat was inside the pod, the tendrils thrusting deep into his tail hole while the other sucked and rippled around his cock, intent on milking him of his cum.

But the fox had to resist, had to keep his cum back, though his balls churned with an insistent ache. Prostate stimulation had always done that for him, though it rarely made his cock as hard as it was in that moment, throbbing within the living matter cock sleeve. The tendril sucked hard around his cock, stroking from base to tip, and he clamped his jaws shut until another tentacle probed at his lips. Twisting his head back and forth did him no good as he howled – and the tendril took its chance, slamming into his mouth and down his throat, forcing him to gag.

“Mmmm-hmmmph!”

The fox bucked his hips, closing his eyes against the onslaught. But that made it worse, all as his body devolved into lust, the last shards of his unbroken mind fighting instinct. Oh, how his body wanted to cum, for he was just a male, his form set to be used, to be broken, to spend his seed. It was not natural at all to him to hold back in that manner, shuddering in place as he forced the rock and grind of his hips, at least somewhat, to still.

I can’t do it… He thought, trying to make his thoughts louder than the scream of the hive mind overwhelming him – or threatening to, at least. I won’t become one of them, I won’t… I don’t want to be a…a bug!

He quivered, revolted by the notion, even though he already had the exoskeleton and claws of the Vyraxi themselves, his tail long and sinuous with a deadly, sharp blade right at the tip. But it would only be later that he’d see the full extent of his new body and what it could do, the transformation still working away deep inside him, altering the very essence of who he was.

Give your seed…

Become a Vyraxi…

Be one with the hive…

Be one with the hive…

BE ONE WITH THE HIVE!

He forced it from his mind, the hum fluttering in the back of his head, fighting the pull and suck around his cock. He was strong, yes… He had to remember that. Sandor just had to remember who he was as the Vyraxi prowled outside the pod, that he wouldn’t become one of them. One of the Vyraxi leaned against the pod, their antennae pressed against the outside of the pod, dragging along it. 

Sandor trembled, feeling it. He didn’t know how, but he could feel what they felt, all as the film slid back to allow contact. It was almost intimate how their antenna, so very sensitive, quivered against one another – and his head shot back, eyes wide and strained, as they were connected.

The Vyraxi, who had been one of his crewmates, though no longer on his side, fed him images. There were so many, a veritable flood pouring into him. They sent him memories of their own transformations, how hard they had fought against it – and how weak they had been in the end when they’d been forced to give in. 

No…

He tried not to let them in, but the memories slammed in regardless…

A Vyraxi drone raising their clawed hands, seeing their transformed body for the first time. 

The agonising pull around their cock as they took their seed, spilling it into the tendril.

The overpowering sense of loss as they became Vyraxi, the hive mind louder and louder, becoming alien.

More and more and more. It was not just the recollections of one mutated Vyraxi but all of them at once, every last one of the transformed slamming into him mentally as he saw goo spilling down them, marking their fur, the chitin bursting through. He felt the pain of losing his seed, their seed, in orgasm, as his hips pumped without consent, tails even trying to thrash back and forth to show their twisted pleasure.

And they were all milked, every last one of them, assimilated into the way of Vyraxi drones. He huffed and heaved, working his jaw around the tendril in his mouth as his head rolled back. Foam marked his lips and the corners of his mouth, fighting not to pump his cock into the tendril sleeve for those devious pulses of pleasure.

“Too much… Tooooo muuuucccchhhh!”

His cries were fractured around the tendril, though it was slim enough that a coarser version of his voice, which sounded something like a hiss, rasped through his tone. Although Sandor’s ears tried to flick, he didn’t have the mobility in them anymore and his antennae flicked instead, reminding him once more of the insectoid he was becoming.

He couldn’t do it, against all else. Sandor’s hips rolled forward – and then the shattering of orgasm was upon him. It flowed through him like the most blissful, most broken climax of all, tearing him down to nothing and building him back up again.

“Mmmmph!”

He sent his seed into the tendril as his eyes rolled, the pod sucking up his DNA as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It was what the hive had made it for, after all.

As he ejaculated, needle-like spines from the pod jabbed into his flesh all over, what remained of him. Where there was chitin, they merely lanced through anyway, piercing him with so fine a needle that it would not leave a single mark behind. He howled, the tendril sliding out of his mouth as he gasped and drooled after it, the reconstruction of his body searing through him all over again.

An exoskeleton, after all, was not enough for one of the Vyraxi swarm. His tail thickened and hardened, filling out the exoskeleton as new muscle bulged and swelled to life. The fox, if he could even be called that anymore, gasped and twisted, but there was no escaping the needles spearing deep into him, forcing him to be still, to submit to the will of the hive.

His tail ached as bones cracked, breaking into a segmented appendage that, later, could be curled and twisted, able to help him balance and climb. The spike at the end glowed with a sheen, connected to muscle and sinew at last, twitching back and forth as it was not impaled with needles. Legs grew chunky and heavy, cracking and twisting out of alignment as his stomach tried to lurch – but that was a capacity for a fox, not an insectoid. Vyraxi didn’t need that “heaving” function in their guts, not as his legs ached with a new form, hooked so they could be better used for climbing walls and ceiling.

The fox’s jaws hung open in a strangled cry as they split, revealing deadly mandibles, dripping with saliva as more gunge filled his mouth, marking his teeth and the sharp cut of the more beak-like end of his snout. Sandor was not to see, but his vision blurred while his eyes changed, moving ever so slightly more to the sides of his head as he spilled his last tear. They glowed a fierce, sharp blue, though the other eyes opening on his face bore the green of Vyraxi, for he would never again be Sandor the fox.

Even then, Sandor the fox was dead and gone, though his body lived on in another form. There was no way to look at that mutation as anything other than a curse, so it wouldn’t even enter the mind of anyone to consider it a blessing. For the Vyraxi, it was merely done.

As he transformed, the other Vyraxi pressed in closer, hissing and grunting as they took in their new hive mate.

“Ssssrrrrkkkk…”

“Tzzzzeeeesssss…”

“Kkkkkrrrrrsssss…”

Though there were grunts and almost groan-like sounds woven through, it was their hisses that dominated. Sandor’s neck filled out the exoskeleton, his body hard and unyielding, his chest heaving with emptiness, the loss of what had been his and…then gone. The blade on his tail glinted and swung back and forth lightly, needles still sunk deep into his body but moving with him, allowing those brutal new muscles to flex and contract.

There was nothing left but the reconfiguration of his mind. Energy surged through him and his claws twitched, as if he needed to do something with them, just to show off his strength in that moment. A bellow blasted from his chest, echoing from his jaws with a feral resonance to it, and he was in motion before his mind caught up with what he was doing, old fox instinct snarling through.

He ripped and clawed at the walls of the hatchery pod, dragging himself out and ripping the needles from his chitin. They were not needed anymore – but all the fox thought of was escape. Away, yes, away: he had to get away.

He stumbled, faltering to the ground, yet Sandor still hauled and scraped himself across the ground, hissing and growling, a beast in every sense of the word. Fear clawed at him, though he had no idea how far he’d already fallen, the other drones backing away. 

The door to the engine room slid open and there, before him, stood a deadly yet graceful figure. The Queen. He didn’t know that, of course, but the song of the hive mind pulsed through his head, feeding it to him.

Queen, the Queen…

Worship the Queen…

Feed the Queen…

Bring new civilisation…

Worship the Queen…

Vyraxi Queen…

The Queen, sleek in black chitin that gleamed with the unerring glow of the hatchery, though he didn’t think to look as to where the illumination was coming from. She loomed, towering elegantly, every sensual line of her body designed to be the perfect specimen of her species: deadly and daunting. 

Over her shoulder wriggled a bound figure, wrapped up from head to toe in silk threads. It could have been anyone – if not for the wide-eyed look of fear and the cloven hoof sticking out.

No…

She had not even escaped. Of course, it had been a long shot, but Sandor had been holding on to that, using it to fuel himself. The image of his doe-taur in his mind, her gentle hands, how he had run his fingers through her soft, brown hair. It had always been so well-groomed, even when they were out in space between docking stations, where supplies for such luxuries were scarce. Alyssa had always known what to do and yet…she’d been caught like the rest of the crew. Could there ever really have been any hope at all for the two of them?

He didn’t know, didn’t want to know, not as his heart sank and two pairs of clawed hands grabbed his shoulders and upper arms. That surge of strength seeped away as he was wrestled backwards once more, slammed into a third hatchery pod. Sandor had thought the first had been terrifying enough, feeling the ache in his body as it mutated out of his will and control, but there was no telling what the third pod would do. The buzz of the hive mind was still there, but he could still think. He was still Sandor…wasn’t he?

“Tssssszzzz… Sssrrrrgggssss…”

Continued in part two of three…