The Burgeoning Nightmare

The sky spat coldness at the city, that half-frozen slop called "wintry mix" you only got in the Midwest. Spring was coming, but winter held on, like a dame who said she loved you but couldn't hurt you enough. A tall, lanky figure walking the Indianapolis streets turned up its collar at the weather, but they couldn't feel the chill. Feelings were for humans. There was another chill whispering its way across this town, and that's what brought that tenacious figure out into the night; the chill of a crime spree that had the whole city shivering. No human could take this case, it was too dangerous for anyone with a real image, so they called on the only one who could stand against this threat. They called Central Autonomous Security: Special Investigations and Enforcement.

Cassie moved with purpose; she had to get to the crime scene before the docs got there, she had to see the victim first. Once they got their hands on her, it would be about getting her the help she needed, and Cassie needed something else: justice. Somebody, or something, had been prowling the Indianapolis nightlife, picking out targets with no pattern anyone could figure out, and warping their real images. It was crude stuff, fast and dirty like a rat with a meal of garbage, but the poor saps who got hit would feel it for a long time. It was sick stuff, too, straight out of the fetish mags. A woman fattened up to a quarter ton, one poor girl given horns and a tail like a cow with tits to match who had nearly drowned in her own milk, and there was that one doll who actually became a doll, telling her story through squeaking plastic lips. All women so far, pretty classic profile, but nothing to connect them.

That was why they called Cassie. She lived for this, she was made for this. Literally; she'd begun her digital existence as a mind culled from the pages of every dime-store detective novel ever written, which is why she still thought in words like "pages" and "dime-store." Every piece of information filtered through the hardboiled lens of the past, always reminding her that she wasn't human. It didn't hurt to know she was artificial, though; none of those fictional detectives ever hurt, they were hard and cold and ruthless, like the Midwest winter she walked through. Most important for this case, though, she didn't have a real image to get twisted. She looked like a woman, called herself a woman, tall and blonde and slender, maybe even a little pretty, but it was just a picture over top of numbers and algorithms, nothing deeper. She could never feel, but it was worth it to be this tough.

The apartment complex was mostly dark, expected this late at night, everyone huddled inside against the weather and the fear. The victim had called security less than an hour before, reporting an involuntary transformation just like the others. Another woman, stuck with who knew what kind of changes forced on her image.

Tina, twenty-two, single, living alone. Cassie wasn't sure what she was going to see when she walked into that room, but it was going to be sexual, and it was going to be extreme. She hoped Tina could still talk to her, give her some kind of lead. She got to the door and listened out of habit. Faint moaning, but only one voice. She checked the security bulletins in her head; docs were still a ways out. She had time.

Cassie knocked sharply on the door; "Security, coming in, need a statement." She didn't wait for a reply; politeness was one thing she'd never been programmed for. The apartment was simple, clean, nothing too fancy, not that it mattered; the other vics had been all over the map, from run-down studios to penthouses, so wealth wasn't part of the pattern. Tina was in the living room next to her couch. She was impossible to miss; naked, moaning, groping and slapping her own ass. Which was the size of the couch. That level of depravity, it almost had to be the same perp. At least she wasn't entirely lost in feeling her huge rump, though; she calmed down and looked Cassie in the eye, her vision clear and focused. Good, this would be a useful interview. Cassie got out her notepad and pencil; she preferred to take notes by hand, not on a datapad. Old novels, old ways.

"Oh thank goodness you're here! I'm, ooh, stuck here, but I still had my datapad; small miracles, right?"

"I'm sure it was, miss. I understand this just happened tonight?"

"Yes, just within the past few hours. I feel so embarassssssed oh fuck, sorry, no pun intended and I don't know why it felt good to say..."

Cassie held up a hand; this dame was a talker, no doubt about it. "Just the facts, miss. Let's stay on target."

"Right, okay. So, my friends and I had gone dancing at Club Vee, you know where that is?" Cassie nodded. "We were having fun, really getting into it, thinking maybe we could pick up some, oooh yeah, cute boys with how good we looked tonight. A few hours in, though, I thought I felt my underwear riding up, so I went to the bathroom to adjust everything, and my, mmmmm, butt was huge! I mean, I thought so at the time, anyway. I told the girls I had to go and caught a cab home, trying to hold my coat over myself to hide that I was, well, g-g-guh-growing. By the time I got back I could barely walk, and I freaked out a little when I almost got sssssstuck in the doorframe getting into my apartment. By then it was also starting to get really sensitive, and I knew something was definitely right wrong I mean wrong. Like, I've heard the news, this kind of thing is happening, and they think maybe someone is doing it to people, right? So I called it in, and then I couldn't contain myself any more, so I got to the couch and I stripped and I just mmmmmmm started rubbing and grabbing and oh fuck it feels amazing." Tina was trying, but that much pumped into her cheeks was just too much for her brain.

"Tina. Tina. Good, here. Now, did you touch anyone tonight, or did anyone touch you?"

"I mean, we were dancing. You bump into people, you dance with people, and once this ass oh geez, sorry, started getting bigger, bigger, oh, sorry again, I couldn't not brush against people."

Well, there wasn't some kind of outbreak at Club Vee, so at least it wasn't a virus. This was a targeted effect. "What about before it happened? Did anyone stand out? Anything memorable?"

"Oh, well," she blushed, more embarrassed about what she was remembering than about a literal truckload of bare tush, "there was this one...guy...he was grinding on me not long before I noticed I was biiiiig. I didn't really get a good look at him, wish I had but it was dark, he was kinda short, but I could feel that he was...oh fuck...oh he was hung...fuck...I wanted to find him again, but then I, you know, left abruptly. He was...I mean it was...I mean that was really the only thing out of the ordinary."

Not much to go on, not even a solid causal connection. Well, can't win 'em all. Maybe there'd be more to learn from the friends, or at the club.

"Thanks Tina, you've been a great help. The medics should be here any minute, they'll get you fixed up, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." That was a bit of a lie; whatever was happening to these folks, it was lingering, hard to fix. They'd get her there eventually, and get her mobile soon enough, but she'd be packing quite the derriere for months.

"Oh thank you. You'll find who did this, right? I hope so."

Cassie couldn't tell if Tina hoped she'd get justice, or if she hoped she'd get another chance to feel this. Maybe Tina couldn't tell either. Cassie couldn't get a good read on it, because Cassie couldn't feel. She made her exit, and left the poor woman with the bloated butt to her massaging.

Two nights later and she was out again, holding her hat on against the howling winter wind. Tina's friends had been a bust, too many drinks in 'em, barely remembered the short man she'd danced with, barely noticed her stretching her skirt. Nothing useful from the club, either; no cameras, staff didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. One thing was always true about sick minds like the one behind these crimes, though: they couldn't stop. Tonight, the inevitable had happened; there was another call, one that security had almost ignored, because it was a man. Maybe they were right, maybe it was unrelated, but for someone who wasn't human, someone who didn't have feelings, Cassie had good instincts, and her gut told her this was the same perp.

Nicholas, thirty-four, single, no roommates. He lived a little further out, actually had a small house, and he could afford it on a lawyer's salary. Cassie didn't like lawyers, but she didn't have to like a vic to pursue justice for them. She wasn't as early this time, but the docs were farther away too, so she should be able to get what she needed. Nice little place, actually.

Groaning from behind the door, pleasure, but like a man dying of thirst getting only a drop of water. "Security, coming in, need a statement."

Nicholas was in his bedroom, bed big enough for two but with only one set of pillows, clothes tossed on a chair, the unmistakable smell of sex in the air but strangely devoid of that chlorinated scent you usually expected when a man was involved. This unfortunate vic was sitting on the edge of the bed, his comforter gripped as hard as he could. Nicholas was an attractive man, tall and dark-haired and well-muscled, a hint of stubble on his cheeks. Those details were secondary, because what drew the eye was what had been done to him; his rod was three feet long, reaching almost above his head, rock hard and twitching, with balls below it you could play soccer with. He was likely holding the bedclothes so hard to keep his hands off it while he talked to her. Considerate of him, especially now. Cassie took out her notebook and pencil. Nicholas looked questioningly at them, probably not expecting something so old-fashioned, and his brain probably grateful for a distraction from his insistent equipment.

"Nicholas. I'm Cassie, from autonomous security. You called in an involuntary transformation."

"Yeah, shit, I didn't do this to myself. Ah fuck. I'll try to answer your questions, tell you anything I can. Gonna be tough, this thing is aaagh not helping my mental state. Just, you know, forgive me if I have to, you know."

"I'm just here for the facts, sir. You won't bother me, whatever you need to do. How did this happen?"

"Well, I'm pretty damn sure it was that guy. Only thing that happened to me tonight was having him over. Ohhhhh geez. Alright, look, I was feeling lonely, wanted a hookup tonight. Easy enough to get, right, just right there on the networks. Fucking agh yeah. Now, I have to tell you, I'm straight, but there was this profile, dude was just oh fuck cute and kind of a twink, you know the type, not a girl but a little girly. Had the hottest ass I've ever seen on anyone, woman or not. Damn it, stupid, agh. And I was horny, figured what the hell. He came over, maybe five foot, fishnet shirt, tight leggings, red skin..."

Cassie looked up from her notes with a raised eyebrow. "Did you say red skin?"

"Yeah, not like sunburned, like red red. Don't know why, but it was fucking sexy. Oh fucking hell. Breathe, Nick. He had a package bigger than I'd ever seen, well, until now, and I'm straight but...anyway, I told him I'd never been with a guy. He said he knew just what I needed. He'd blow me, and I'd just be staring at his face and his ass and never even know the difference. And fuck he was good...I couldn't...oh fuck...fuck I'm sorry I can't."

Nicholas' hands flew to his shaft, sliding up and down furiously, and Cassie could almost hear his heart beating and his balls sloshing with pent-up need. It was only seconds before he screamed in climax...but he was bone dry. Not a drop escaped his rod. Instead, she saw it bulge and swell, growing right before her eyes, two inches more, then four, then six, and getting fatter just as fast. His sack wasn't spared, either, the overburdened spheres bloating to a foot across each. He groaned in a mix of satisfaction and frustration.

"Dammit, I'm sorry. It's been like that since he left. Like I was saying, he sucked me off really good, and complimented me on my size and my taste. Kinda teasing, now that I think about it. I offered to do...something for him, but he said I'd given him plenty, and left. An hour later, I think it was, I got hard so hard so fucking hard, sorry, trying, so I tried to take care of myself. I came, but I didn't shoot, and I got bigger instead. And I was still hard, and I wanted it even more. And, well."

The picture was crystal clear; he'd been stuck in that vicious cycle ever since. Couldn't really come, trying made him grow, growing made him want to come. Now that was twisted. Fortunately, it was a clue. Cassie now had a causal link, and a better description that lined up with what little Tina had given her.

"Can you show me the profile?"

"Yeah, here. It's on...it's...what?" Nick was staring at his datapad in confusion. "He's gone. Like, it should be in my history, but he deleted it. I didn't know you could do that."

"You can't. I'll have the boys in tech check it out. Thanks, Nicholas. The medics should be here any minute, they'll take care of you. Until then..."

"Yeah, I'll...take care of myself. I guess that means I get bigger. Why is that hot? Just thinking about it growing, I can't, I want, agh, I want it. This isn't me, I'm straight, this was just one, it's too big to, this doesn't make any, oh fuck why is my cock being so big turning me on?"

His face was full of confusion and fear and lust, feelings he didn't understand. Cassie couldn't answer him. Cassie couldn't feel.

Now the chase was on. This scumbag had made his opening moves, and now Cassie could start making her own moves against him. Which meant he'd figure out soon enough that she was onto him. They always did, but they still couldn't stop, so she'd get him. She sent the description back to headquarters, and sent a message to the boys in tech like she'd said she would. Not only would they be checking the hookup networks, but they could start checking security cameras for someone of his description.

Five foot, androgynous or femboy, huge package, big feminine butt, red skin, possible penchant for revealing clothes. Especially with the skin, that meant either a modded human, or a designed being like her. Either one might be able to cause these effects; this kind of ability was rare, especially when it could touch a real image in a lasting way, and even rarer that someone would be skilled enough to code it into an AI, but it wasn't unknown. Almost anything was possible in the shadows of Cyberdream, and Cassie had delved into those shadows for a long time. Lots of evil there, and not too many people to fight it. Cassie wasn't good, she was too caught up in the personas of her origins to have strong morals, and too artificial to ever really care. But justice. Justice she understood. And she was going to bring this sicko down.

The next call came in three days later. He was a slippery little hellion, this fleshwarper. No wonder the whole city was on edge; not even the fellas in the lab had been able to find a trace of him. He dodged cameras, laid low until he struck, even his online presence must have been tightly targeted and then wiped clean when he was done. That meant it was going to come down to old-fashioned detective work. Bad luck for him, because there was nobody who did things the old-fashioned way quite like Cassie. Unfortunately, it also meant bad luck for his victims, because the only way to catch him was for him to have more of them.

Nicholas had been in a bad way by the time the docs got to him, begging to come, begging for cock, a solid eight feet long and thick as a tree trunk, not that many minutes after she'd left him. They'd get him back down to size, the data surgeons knew their jobs, but his mind, well, welcome to your new kinks, Nick. Cassie didn't feel sorry for him, couldn't feel sorry for him. She just knew that some other dame had taken a hit, and she needed to get the clues.

Shelly, twenty-one, single, trust fund kid living in a condo her parents owned. Uptown Indianapolis, nicer places, but not for the fattest of fatcats, more for your bestselling authors and popular artists. Mostly quiet behind this door, no moans or whimpers, but a sound she couldn't quite place, like someone pacing in hard leather shoes. Shelly's place had a doorbell. Cassie knocked. "Security, coming in, need a statement."

She barely got the door open before she was grabbed by the arm and pulled inside. Cassie's hand went to her hip, reaching for her piece out of a long habit of self-preservation. But she was quick to see she wasn't in any danger; this wasn't someone trying to take her down, this was a blend of embarrassment and eagerness. If this was Shelly, though, she was damn strong. And what was that sound? It was coming from right where this person was standing.

As she got her bearings back, she could see that the person who'd pulled her inside was indeed Shelly. She matched the description, mostly; willowy, redhead, freckles, more cute than beautiful. What didn't match was the result of what had changed. She was taller than expected, maybe seven feet. Poking up from her curly red hair were two large, pointed ears that swiveled this way and that, mostly red-furred with a ring of black at the edge. Her slender frame had almost humorously large gazongas attached, perky orbs the size of well-tended watermelons. And from the waist down, where she should have had long, lovely legs, she had the body of a red deer. That explained the sound: hooves.

"Miss, my name is Cassie, I'm from..."

"Fuck me."

"Excuse me, miss?"

A heavy, musky scent hung in the air. "I need you to fuck me."

"Miss Shelly, I'm here to take a statement, I..."

"FUCK. ME. NOW."

This was not the kind of thing that was up Cassie's alley. She didn't have the right equipment for it, for starters. Hell, she didn't know if anyone in security had the equipment to handle a...deer-taur? But that scent, Shelly was probably in heat, and there'd be no talking to her until someone did something about it.

"I'll...see what I can do, miss."

Of course, the relevant area wasn't at Shelly's waist any more. If Cassie were programmed for sex, she'd probably have kissed the girl, or played with those luscious tits, or even just lovingly run a hand down Shelly's flank. Cassie didn't know any of that, she was programmed for bluntness and justice, and there'd been enough raw, rough sexuality in the old noir stories that she had some ideas of how to cool this lady's fire. Circling around behind the girl, she could see that her slit wasn't quite human any more, but it was close enough, mostly just bigger. She hoped Shelly's heat was enough to make an inexpert job sufficient to the task. Back here, so close to the source, the musk was almost unbearably strong. Any male couldn't help but be driven to mate with her. Cassie, of course, wasn't male, or organic at all. Well, time to dive in. She licked Shelly's outer lips from bottom to top, then back again, acquainting herself with where everything was located.

The dame's response was immediate: "OH FUCK YES, FINALLY!"

Well that was encouraging. Keeping her tongue moving on some sensitive spots she'd located near the top, she brought her hand up and tested just how much space the girl had. Huh. Well, five-finger discount it was, then. Her tunnel was slick and capacious, but it was clamping down in waves that tried to pull Cassie's reaching fingers deeper and deeper in. She caressed Sally's inner walls, sliding back and forth slowly but with purpose, searching for whichever places and movements caused the girl to gasp and moan. Well, gasp and moan more, which was a challenge even for someone trained (or programmed) to hear subtle shifts in voices.