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File: Spoiler Image (119 B, 1x1)
119 B
119 B PNG
The Town of Mulekick. A bustling mountain town touting clean air, unpolluted rivers, and untouched forests. Shortly after your parents died, you moved here from the city for cheaper, simpler living.

One day while hiking alone on a popular trail behind your apartment, you catch a glimpse of a weird insect you've never seen before. You follow it off the path, and dirt turns to grass, and grass turns to brush. The beetle is many different shades of green, and seems fuzzy or even glowing. You jump over a pile of thin, fallen branches and trees stacked on top of larger logs, not paying attention to where you wander. The path is easy enough, as long as you watch your step. The bug gets tired of you tailing him, and flitters off straight up into the sky. You watch it ascend until it's a little dot.

When you look at your surroundings, you find yourself coming upon a clearing that leads to a rock face. A small cave covered in dead, dry moss, with an entrance you have to hunch to enter, taunts you with a piercing whistle. You look around, alone. You can't be more than ten minutes back to the trail. The sky is getting darker. Hunching down, you shine your flashlight into the cave, revealing that the cave gets big enough to stand in just a few feet deeper, and the moss gives way to stone and weeds. Intrigued, you decide you'll just check it out for a minute, and turn right back.

You take a deep breath and enter the cave. Then, you forget.
>>
Minutes later, you re-enter your mind and body, screaming and running out of the cave. It's darker out, but not night time yet. Intensely feverish and sweaty, you shiver and look back at the cave, backing up slowly. What just happened in there? The cave mouth whistles as you cautiously hop back over logs and branches, not taking your eye off the cave entrance, then when you're far enough, you turn and run, all the way back to the trail.

"Woah!! Honey!!" A woman in white shorts and a white baseball cap exclaims.

"What is it babe? Woah!" A tall, barrel-chested man pulls the woman close and turns his attention to you, "hey pal, you're supposed to stay on the trail. You could be scaring wildlife away, or me and my wife! Haha. Just kidding, partner. Say, are you okay?"

You see that your clothes are torn up and you're bleeding a little, probably from the rocks and twigs and branches you ran past. Or perhaps something else?

You're breathing heavily, but you don't feel exhausted due to the adrenaline boost. Or perhaps something else?

You feel incredibly persecuted by the couple's gawking stares and questions. Or perhaps something else?

Scared doesn't even begin to cover how you feel about your loss of consciousness back in the cave. But a faint voice you've never heard before, tells you that perhaps there is something else to be afraid of now.

"Are you okay, buddy? What happened out there?"

The new voice inside whispers to you: "Do not... talk... to him... Lead them... Away..."

You try to speak cool and charismatically, but instead your words comes out in a heavy and jumbled stutter, like you've forgotten how to speak. Your fever makes you almost lose your footing; you're so lightheaded you feel like you're going to pass out.

What do you say to the hiking couple?
>Falling to your knees, "followed bug... Went in cave... Passed out... Help me..."
>Pointing to your injuries, "bobcat... I fight him... Off... I'll... Be okay..."
>Fighting the voice, pointing to the cave, "need help... Come... Look..."
>Shout "ME OKE-... I'M OKAY!" and sprint ahead of the couple to your car.
>Grunting, you walk away, further down the trail, away from your car.
>Write-in

And
>What is your name?
>>
>>6133236
>Fighting the voice, pointing to the cave, "need help... Come... Look..."
Ain’t no way I’m gonna let someone else inside me that easily.
>What is your name?
Edward (Eddie, Ed, etc).
>>
>>6133258
>Someone else inside me
Bro pause.
>>
>>6133236
>Pointing to your injuries, "bobcat... I fight him... Off... I'll... Be okay..."
>Edward "Eddie" Colvin
>>
>>6133236
>>Pointing to your injuries, "bobcat... I fight him... Off... I'll... Be okay..."

>Xavier Twine
>>
>>6133258
>>6133430
>>6133453
>>6133461
You calm down and explain to your fellow hikers that a bobcat sprung on you out of nowhere while you were taking a leak, and you just want to go home. You fall into a sneezing fit as you begin walking away.

From behind you, the man calls out, "well, don't you think you should talk to a park ranger? You look pretty banged up. Here, I'll call them up now, he can give you first aid." He begins thumbing away at his phone.

The symbiosis is still fresh, but the spores inside you begin fully taking over your thought processes, and sense what is going on. Detection.

You become incredibly afraid, panicking and stomping in place like you have to pee, not sure whether to fight or to flee. You feel physically and mentally choked for words.

"Stop... Them..." The spores are calling you to action. Your head is pulsing and your eyes are bulging, your whole head feels hot and as if it's going to pop, like a balloon.

You can't form a sentence, not even a single word. But you have to act. You decide to
>take the hiker's phone and throw it into the nearby river
>run to your car and drive away
>attack the couple with murderous intent
>fight the call of the spores, and stay with the couple as they call the park ranger
>Write-in
>>
>>6133494
>run to your car and drive away
It's one thing if you don't want to be found out, but you're not turning us into a murderer that easy!
>>
>>6133519
Backing this. Nice try, QM.
>>
>>6133494
>run to your car and drive away
>>
Rolled 20 (1d20)

You want to tell the man that you'll be alright, but the frog in your throat won't let you say a thing.

"Hello, ranger?"

You stumble into an awkward run, and the concerned neighbor calls out to you, but you leave him in the distance. You jam your key in your car door and hop in, slam the door, turn the engine on, and peel out.

The moon is on the rise, and you turn your headlights on just in case, even though it's not very dark out.

The rush of it all evens out, and you are left uncomfortably sweaty, and questionably in control of your own thoughts.

"What the hell was that?! What the fuck?!?!" No one answers you. You're the only car on the road.

Where do you drive to?
>Go home and make dinner for you and your cat
>Go home and go straight to bed
>Get dinner at a takeout restaurant
>Get a stiff drink at a bar
>Head to the emergency room and tell the doctors about your blackout
>Cruise throughout the countryside with your thoughts
>Write-in

[If my roll was 9 or lower, the park rangers will follow up with you in a few days.]
[If my roll was 10-16, the hikers and park rangers tell some of their acquaintances about your strange behavior.]
[If my roll was 17-20, the hikers completely forget about you, and the rangers never make a report.]
>>
>>6133656
>Go home and make dinner for you and your cat
>>
>>6133656
>Go home and make dinner for you and your cat
>>
>>6133656
>Go home and make dinner for you and your cat
Check’d
>>
Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>6133663
>>6133697
>>6133714
Listening to the radio is jarring.

The new voice in your head keeps telling you to "turn the dial... back to... the Yeastie Boys," and you keep having to tell it the song is over and that's not what they're called. The other rap songs all talk about getting hyphae, My Celium Romance is on the alt rock channel, and Shane Aspergillus is the guest on the radio show. Let's see what the other rock station is playing.
THE KOM-BU-CHA MUSH-ROOM PEO-PLE!
There's just no winning.

You drive in to the parking lot of your apartment complex, and feel compelled to start heavily sniffing the air, like a dog would.

Ah yes, Apartment F.
The cozy Colvin domicile.
Home to you and also ____.
>What is your cat's name? /?

Dinner time for you two.

You pour the slop into the bowl. It's foul, really. You can't stand the smell of it, and you don't know how your cat does, either. It's the absolute cheapest sludge you could find in the stores, even though you could spring for premium food without your wallet hurting. Whoever makes this "food" must absolutely despise the intended customers. It should be a crime to make another living being eat this.

You throw that shit into the microwave for 60 seconds for yourself, and break out your cat's favorite, Filet Mignon In A Can (With Gravy), $9 per 2oz cannister (one for breakfast and one for dinner every day). You love that little guy/gal.

NEEEEEP!

You open up the microwave and the voice tells you "throw it away... I just need some water..."

The communication is getting more intelligent, and frightening. Does it think that you made that food for it and not yourself? Water does sound good though. Really good...
>>
>>6134069

The last glass in your cabinet is a coffee mug with different species of duck named and pictured on it. You love this glass. You fill it with water and down it, every sip a sensation of pure satisfaction. You decide to drink another glass. And another. And another. And anoth- okay, too much. Your belly is filled with water, and the voice comes back, sturdier.

"Excellent, Edward. Now. Take me to your garden."

It knew your name. It knew you had water. It knew it didn't want to be revealed to the hikers. It seems to be growing more capable. And you still don't know what the hell it is. You stand in your kitchen, both hands splayed out on the counter, supporting your body weight, thinking.

"Edward? Drink one more glass of water, then let's go to your garden."

What do you do?
>Drink a glass of water and go to the apartment complex's garden.
>Tell it that you don't have a garden, and you just want to eat dinner and watch Reno 911! re-runs.
>Ask it why it likes water so much and what happened at the cave.
>Write-in

[If my roll was 3 or lower, your cat is free of spores, no longer recognizes you, and tries to attack or run away.]
[If my roll was 4-17, your cat is now infected with dormant spores that subconsciously attract you to each other (platonically, dammit).]
[If my roll was 18-20, your cat is now infected with advanced mutation spores and undergoes overnight metamoldphosis.]
>>
>>6134069
>What is your cat's name? /?
>/?
That was supposed to be male/female symbols
>>
>>6134069
>Cat's name: Loaf
>Cat's sex: Female
>Breed: Havana Brown & ??? (someone's show-cat got out in heat, you got a cheap kitten out of it)

>>6134071
>Ask it why it likes water so much and what happened at the cave.
>>
>>6134148
+1
>>
>>6134148
+1
>>
File: Say Goodbye to Loaf.jpg (56 KB, 907x1075)
56 KB
56 KB JPG
>>6134148
>>6134192
>>6134307
"Stop, stop, stop," Eddie says out loud. Loafie looks up from her gourmet dish, then realizes she's completely uninterested. "What's all this about water? What... Who are you? And don't you want to go back to the cave?"

Silence.

Eddie starts again, speaking to the weird voice in his head, "I don't like this, you need to-"

"It's past that time, Edward. It no longer matters what you like, what you think you need." The voice is even-toned and matter-of-fact. "You are one of us now."

Out of your own control, your neck vibrates and snaps down, looking at your right hand, which you've outstretched on someone else's volition. Strings of crooked white hyphae shoot from your fingernails and the small cuts and nicks on your hand. It twists and spins together and tastes the air as your mind trembles.

You take back control of your body and crush your fingernails into your palm, to kill the shoots. It hurts in an oddly sensitive way, like someone was pulling your hair, but out of the tips of your fingers.

The moldy voice returns, less powerful, "resist for now... If you like... Won't be long. Soon you'll be a mushroom... Or a vegetable... Your choice..."

You bolt for the door, but a mycelium network stretches out in your bloodstream and sporespikes your knee, causing you to fall over.

"If you won't take me to the garden, then we'll just stay here." It's already regained its speaking strength.
>"Fine, we'll go to the garden. But please, tell me what you want from me, we can work together!"
>You're so tired, you must be dreaming. Give up and go to sleep, when you wake up, this bizarre nightmare will be over.
>Run to a neighbor's apartment and plead for help. (Optional: Who are they?)
>Fight the fungus some other way. (How?)
>Write-in
>>
>>6134480
>that filename
B-but she's going to be a cool super-mutant mold creature now, like us, right?

>"Fine, we'll go to the garden. But please, tell me what you want from me, we can work together!"
>>
>>6134480
>"Fine, we'll go to the garden. But please, tell me what you want from me, we can work together!"

I don't see any resist. Just accept this horrific fate, it's chill
>>
>>6134480
>>Fight the fungus some other way. (How?)
"You wanna lobotomize me? You wanna fucking LOBOTOMIZE ME???!?!?"
>Bust out the cleaning supplies. Drink 'em, pour 'em everywhere, put 'em in the tub, put ourselves in the tub. You're making your house and body a toxic hellscape. Oh, but that'll kill us? Yeah, the mold's already killing us!
>>
>>6134480
>Say Goodbye to Loaf
Don’t you fucking dare.
>"Fine, we'll go to the garden. But please, tell me what you want from me, we can work together!"
>>
File: just saying.png (1.38 MB, 883x880)
1.38 MB
1.38 MB PNG
>>6134555
>>
>>6134490
>>6134505
>>6134518
>>6134555
>>6134573
"Good. Grab a jacket. It's chilly outside." The voice inside of you... You don't know what it's capable of... It's not your friend, but you don't want to make it an enemy, not with the amount of control it has over you.

You glance above your sink at the Lysol, Windex, Easy Off oven cleaner, and Raid for ants and roaches. Would that... Could that stuff... Heal you?

"Garden time, Eddie, now. Unless you want me to make a mess all over your home. Oh mold, it's coming fast... Hurry!"

You feel a knot welling up in your stomach, cramping really badly. You double over in discomfort and grab your jacket in the same movement, then rush out the door while still recovering. The knot pulsates again, twice. You feel like you want to throw up and sneeze at the same time.

You jog down the hallway in pain, and finally find the door to the garden. The cool air stimulates every goosebump on your body, but they don't feel like normal goosebumps, they feel... Fuzzy, and warm.

There is nobody out at night, just the halogen stake lights that line the apartment garden. The knot in your stomach pushes its way up, and you lean over a waist-high concrete wall, and puke up a slimy spore-ball. "Oooooooooooh yeeeeeeaaaaah!! Much better," the voice in your head insists.

You feel violated. You're pouring sweat, feeling flashes of hot and cold, wiping foreign DNA from your mouth. "Ughhh..."

You move to cover the mess in dirt, but your elbow jerks back. "Leave it, Ed." The door opens up behind you, the same one you walked down from. It's kind, old Gertrude, the landlord of the complex that lives in the spacious Apartment A. "Sweetie? Eddie, is that you? ...Are you okay?"

The mold in your head doesn't understand that you can handle Gertrude without rousing suspicion, it turns to fight or flight. "Can you take this one on? She is your authority who allows you to live, she must be incredibly strong..."

Gertude asks if you're alright again, and moves to look at your spore puke, which wriggles, squiggles and writhes unnaturally.

"Kill her," the mold urges!
>"What? No!!" You scream at the mold, causing Gertrude to ask again if you're alright. In a panic, you tell her everything: the cave, the bodily autonomy issues, the fingertip hyphae, the spore puke...
>Thank Gertrude and assure her you're alright, corral her back inside and tell her you should've known better than to go back to the Express Wok downtown. "I heard they use rat meat," Gertrude adds.
>Verbally abuse Gertrude and send her off, to show your moldbrain that you are a creature of immense strength and status, even more powerful than Master Gertrude.
>Hit Gertrude with a fungal piledriver on the bricks. Hide the body. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. The- The mold made me do it! At least you don't have to pay rent to her anymore.
>Write-in

Loaf transformation in next update
>>
>>6135096
>Thank Gertrude and assure her you're alright, corral her back inside and tell her you should've known better than to go back to the Express Wok downtown. "I heard they use rat meat," Gertrude adds.
>>
>>6135096
>Thank Gertrude and assure her you're alright, corral her back inside and tell her you should've known better than to go back to the Express Wok downtown. "I heard they use rat meat," Gertrude adds.
>>
QM?
>>
>>6136235
HN0Gr7hC?
>>
>>6136283
When are we continuing?



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