While Vice sought to take control of Murinova by visiting their local governing body, the town’s downfall was already beginning as the candy-sucking children all rushed towards their homes, unaware of what they were truly consuming. The first of these children to experience the outlandish and adverse effects of the candy was none other than the child who approached Vice in the first place, Jack. A 9-year-old boy with floppy dirty blonde hair in need of a thorough cutting, dressed in loose clothing appropriate for summer playtime, but little else.

Adhering to Vice’s orders, the child sprinted through the sleepy town and to the residential area, off to the only home they had ever known. Jack slammed their fist against the front door three times, calling his mother to the front door. Jack’s mother, Lynne, was a 30-year-old woman with a light complexion and a scattering of freckles across her face, dirty blonde hair wrapped up in a bun, dressed in plain and casual summer attire. Plain described much of Lynne’s appearance, but as Jack’s mother, he could easily find her amidst a crowd and had long since internalized much of her physical minutia. 

With the door open, Jack kicked off his shoes before dashing to the bathroom in order to wash his hands, lest he be chided. 

“Sweetie, make sure you get something to drink. It’s hot out there!” Lynne shouted at her running child, concern ringing through her voice.

Jack let out a muttered affirmation as his five second hand wash was brought to an end. He then made his way to the kitchen, where he promptly plucked a plastic pitcher from the fridge and grabbed his favorite cup from the cupboard. After guzzling down two glasses, filling up the pitcher, and putting it back in the fridge, Jack took a moment to look back at the clock hanging on a nearby wall, noticing that it had just passed 9:30. He grimaced in response, as despite filling his belly with breakfast, candy, and water, he still hungered. 

Jack found this odd, but the rumbling in his stomach was a rambunctious one, and he dearly desired to satiate it. He left the kitchen to express their desires to his mother, who was in the midst of cleaning the bathroom sink.

“Mom, I’m hungry!” The young boy stated, failing to recognize that his mother was busy with something.

“You know where we keep things. But make sure you have some real food. Remember, you’re a big boy now, and big boys don’t spoil their appetites with crisps and cookies.”

“I know… but can I have some op-e-tons?”

“You should save the leftover pasta for lunch. But I did get some bread and meat yesterday, so why don’t you make yourself a sandwich?”

“Okie-doke! Thank you kindly!”

Jack procedurally went through the usual rigmarole of feeding himself, plucking out a fresh loaf of generic brand wheat bread, a plastic pack of bologna slices, and a plate. They slapped together two slices of bread and two fatty meat circles to make a sandwich. A sandwich like this was usually enough to constitute a meal for Jack, but as he looked at this sandwich, his stomach roared, demanding that he eat more. So he threw another two slices of bologna onto the sandwich. Sitting at the end table his family ate meals together, Jack inhaled the food placed before him, rapidly chewing the meat and bread, finishing it in record time. 

It should have been more than enough to satiate most growing boys for at least two hours, but it only seemed to make Jack’s tummy howl in dissatisfaction. The low-grade meal only went to enhance his hunger, causing him to crave for more, specifically more meat. He was unsure why his desires were so pronounced and specific, yet he wasted little time trying to satisfy them. He once again took out the stack of bologna from the fridge and rammed the remaining 8 slices into his mouth. He gobbled them up with a wild vigor, cramming all he could into his maw, and generally making a fool of himself to any and all onlookers. Namely his mother.

“Jack, I didn’t raise you to be a pig. I don’t mind if you gorge yourself on real food every now and again, but you need to eat over a plate, or a bowl, and take your time. You’re not an animal.”

Jack felt a gust of disappointment flow across their person as he took in those words. But the shame in his actions was short-lived, as his hunger remained relentless in spite of his attempts to quell it. For whatever reason, he felt compelled to go to his mother to satiate this desire, apologizing as he locked his arms around her, while she did the same.

“I-I’m so-sorry mom,” Jack said as his voice quivered.

“It’s alright. No harm done. Just make sure that next time you—”

Lynne’s words were cut off as she released a guttural scream that echoed throughout the otherwise unoccupied home. Her son clamped his teeth deep into her person and effortlessly tore away a mouthful of flesh from her lower left abdomen, which he chewed with vigor. Lynne backed away from her son in response, clenching her side as the blood seeped across her shorts and tank top. Her mind was a maelstrom, and she could only muster enough mental wherewithal to run over to the wall-bound kitchen phone in order to call for help. She clenched the receiver near her ear as her hand drifted towards the keypad. But before she could even press 9, she paused. There was no dial tone. She knew the phone worked— she had called a friend earlier this morning— but now there was no reception. No chance of her call going through.

As Lynne tried to formulate a solution to this problem and think of a justification as to why the home phone did not function as it ought to, she was assaulted by her son once more as he brandished his bloodied teeth. Jack tore away at his mother’s ankle, gobbling up what he could as blood poured across the tiled floor. This naturally caused Lynne to tumble downwards, slamming into the floor and bruising her ravaged body even more. 

“Jack, stop it! Whatever the fuck you’re doing, stop it! What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

Tears billowed across her eyes as she stared down at herself and began to recognize how precarious this situation was. How much of a near certainty death was. And how this was all the fault of a child she cared for and raised for a decade.

“I’m sorry mom… but you taste so-so-so-so-so delicious. I just can’t help myself. I want you… all of you… inside me.”

A droning undercurrent accompanied every noise uttered by Jack. His face was locked into a daze, with dilated pupils and lips that curved upwards into a grin. 

Recognizing her son’s unnatural behavior and losing her parental filter, Lynne began flailing as her son approached, punching and screaming as he drew near and clawing away at his person as he leaped onto her torso. However, these attempts at resistance proved ineffective, as Jack easily managed to wrap his legs around Lynne, where he craned his head forward to place his blood-riddled teeth onto her neck. A visceral chomp was accompanied by a horrific scream as Lynne unleashed everything she could in hopes that someone, anyone, would come in, investigate, and save her. Her cries fell on deaf ears, and after a few seconds of feigned resistance and immense agony, life left Lynne’s person.

Even after she perished, Jack’s obsessive and rapid consumption continued. From the fine tissue that adorned Lynne’s face, to the muscles that laced her feet. His mouth darted across her body erratically, eating away at what remained until all that was left was an unrecognizable corpse. He moved with the clear intention of consuming all he possibly could, but such efforts proved to be too much for the child. 

Within minutes, he had consumed no less than five kilograms of meat, and his body bloated considerably. This intake of food was far too much for most to handle, much less a child, and the adrenaline pumping throughout his small frame was not enough for him to continue this maternal consumption. Energy eventually left his person, and he nestled himself into a fetal position as he laid atop his mother’s corpse.

For a moment, this ghastly bloodstained scene was left to linger as the two unconscious parties lay at the end of a crimson trail. But as that moment passed, Jack’s body began to change. His skin expanded beyond his appendages, branching out from his hands and feet to over what remained of his mother. As the skin expanded outwards, the very shape of the boy’s body began to change, turning into something less human and more gelatinous. The more his form expanded, the more of his features he lost. His eyes, nose, mouth, hair, and clothing— all were replaced by a slimy and malleable sheet of skin that covered Lynne’s corpse. 

It looked almost like a wart or blemish. A mound of flesh that poked out from the living room floor and pulsated visibly with each passing second. As it moved, it produced a guttural gushing noise, as if a liquid were shaking around inside it, and with each iteration of this noise, it absorbed more and more of the drying bloody trail that went across the kitchen, consuming all of it within a matter of minutes. 

With all the blood consumed, the object adopted the form of a pinkish mass of flesh. It looked almost like an organ, and through its opaque exterior, one could see that it contained a humanoid figure within its walls, and that figure was submerged in an unidentifiable liquid. 

The object remained in this state for hours before the liquid within dissipated. The constant gushing sound stopped, while the damp, malleable, and gooey surface of the mound began to solidify, harden, and adopt a texture similar to the shell of an egg. 

A shell that was cracked open as its occupant seemingly woke up from whatever unconscious state they were in, and pushed their hands to the sky. The fleshy wall gave away, and the figure emerged, gasping for air, before shattering their confinements like an insect rising from a cocoon. With their prison destroyed, the occupant was revealed to be an adult human. One who looked to be doused in an unsightly mixture of blood, pus, and mucus. They shakily moved forward, stepping over the remaining walls of this fleshy vessel, and made their way through the kitchen, supporting themself with a wall, while leaving behind a stream of brown sludge. 

Upon reaching their destination— the bathroom— this figure leaned over to the sink, hoping to get a look at themself in the mirror, but the goop continued to cast a thick mask over their face. Accordingly, they shoved their head into the sink, dousing it with a stream of cool water in order to peel away the unidentified substance from their face and hair. Upon being able to see clearly once again, they raised their head upwards and got a better look at themself in the mirror, only to let out a sudden gasp, almost tumbling to the floor in shock. 

What they saw was the face of a young woman with a clear complexion and clean blonde hair that gracefully cascaded down her shoulders. It would be reasonable to compare her appearance to the face of a model or some such thing, but she was nevertheless an attractive woman, one who looked to be no older than 20. However, such observations were not what caught this person off guard. Instead, they were startled by the resemblance their visage held.

“M-Mom?” This person said with a quivering voice before they sent a hand at their slime-coated neck.

“I’m… I’m you now… This is unbelievable… I don’t know why, but this is… so fucking hot! I’m my mom, I’m Lynne god-fucking-damn Sinclair! Oh, this is so-so-so-so-so cool! I’m her! I’m an adult, and I look better than she ever did before. Lord, I remember how much she tried to gussy herself up before meeting my husband, or dad, or… huh. I guess I have her memories too. Oh this is just peach-a-riffic! But as Lynne Sinclair, I cannot very well go prancing about in the buff, clothed in nothing but a bunch of dumpster juice. I guess it’s time to get nice, clean… and a little bit more acquainted with myself!”

The new Lynne then plopped into the recently cleaned shower and began letting the water flow across her body, freeing her of any and all foreign substances, and allowing her to see and feel herself without any restriction. Doing so only reassured her of the superiority of her body. It had no excess bits of flab, stretch marks, aches, or blemishes from her toes to her shoulders, and everything that was there was more beautiful than it had been… ever. She giddily moaned as she parsed her hands over her trim waistline, developed musculature, and moderately enlarged breasts. To her, it felt as if several lifelong dreams were brought to reality at once, and it only went to boost her arousal, inspiring Lynne to send her hands to her crotch to feel things out… Only to stop abruptly.

“What am I doing? If I am going to see what pleasure is like in this perfected body of mine, I want it to be with something a bit more than just my fingers. Oh, just the thought of him holding me down and doing it with as much vigor and purpose as our wedding night! And after getting a good look at me, I’m sure I can convince him to go three rounds. Maybe even four…”

After voicing her revelations, Lynne quickly went through the remainder of the shower with a degree of familiarity and efficiency. Once her body was squeaky clean, she dried her person with a towel, dried her silky hair with her blow dryer, admired her reformed face, and then sprinted out of the bathroom, completely naked. She wasted little time in bringing herself to her bedroom, more specifically its full-length mirror, which allowed her to scope out many details she missed in the shower… most of them pertaining to her butt.

“And now my ass isn’t flat any more!” The new Lynne narrated to herself. “Fuck yeah! I gotta find that black woman and thank her for doing this. I have absolutely zero idea how this is even supposed to be possible, and I know that this is beyond fucked on at least seven levels. But I’d say such deviancy is well worth it if I can feel so spectacular. Though, I have to wonder about what happened to the other children. Did they eat and become an idealized version of the first person they saw? Did all of them become their mothers? Well, I suppose that I’ll find out soon enough. …Aw man, the transformation removed the birthmark that used to be above my left butt cheek. I liked that little dot.”

After rambling to herself once more, Lynne recalled the real reason why she dashed up to her bedroom. She swiftly swung herself over to her wardrobe to grab some underwear, but looked at the selection with visible disappointment. Her eyes then shot open as she began clawing through the back of her underwear drawer, finding a suspicious-looking box. Lynne promptly plopped this semi-familiar container to reveal a pair of lacy crimson-colored lingerie that she slid into immediately, before returning to the mirror.

A wave of giddy laughter followed as Lynne admired her form once more. Starting with a litany of hysterical cackling and ending with a stream of subdued moanings as she positioned and posed her body in a way that she found appealing on multiple levels. She was so enamored with her new form that she took a hand to her crotch in order to stimulate it. But right as she was circling a finger around her vulva, she heard the distinct sound of the front door opening.

“Honey bunny, I’m home!” An easily identifiable male voice echoed throughout the house.

Lynne momentarily thought about the best way to respond and approach ‘her man,’ but looking over herself once more, and taking her rambunctious libido into consideration, she simply threw on a bathrobe from her closet and scampered downstairs.

“Welcome home darling… wait, what time is it?” Lynne asked as she casually walked downstairs, swaying her hips more than usual once her eyes locked onto her husband. He was nothing remarkable physically. A fairly in-shape white man in his early 30s, clean-shaven, with recently trimmed brown hair, and a pair of glasses resting on his nose. 

“Um, about 1:15 PM,” He said as he looked at his wristwatch. “I made a lot of headway down in the office, but after getting a little… lost, in my work, I realized that nobody else had shown up… after about 4 hours. My desk was a disaster, so it was very easy for me to narrow my attention and put on my blinders.”

“Oh dear…” Lynne remarked as she made a pouty yet sultry face.

“Anyhow, at about 12:30, I finally decided to call someone up and see where they were, but I couldn’t even get a dial tone. I started getting worried, drove down to the payphone outside the grocery, but that didn’t work either. So I tried to see if there was any broadcast on the radio, and after searching through a lot of static, I eventually found a broadcast saying that the town was under quarantine, telling people to return to their homes.”

“That sounds… strange.”

“That’s what I thought,” Mr. Sinclair said with a slight chuckle. “But this is all probably nothing, and could just be a test or something— Hold on, did you change your makeup brand again?”

Having finally noticed the difference in his wife’s complexion, he drew closer to her, pulling up his glasses to better take in her features. He could immediately tell that she did not look normal and that something drastic had changed about her appearance. But as their eyes locked together, his concerns abruptly washed away, having been replaced with… something else.

“It’s not makeup, my dear Flynn. It was a… deep cleansing that brought out my beauty like never before. And don’t worry about how much it cost. I’m sure you’ll find that it was well worth it.”

“Was… Was it just your face?” Flynn said with a dazed expression.

“Well, why don’t you come upstairs with me and see for yourself, big shot.”

As she whispered those words into his ears, any and all concerns Flynn would have held, such as the state of his only child, evaporated from his brain. Now, the only thing he could focus on was the gorgeous woman before him. 

Before any strain of resistance could form, Lynne closed in towards his lips, and wrapped the two of them in a deep kiss. Tongues clashed between their mouths, and doing so conjured a wave of arousal that coursed across both their beings. Steadfast, the two rushed up the stairs to satiate their desires, locking the door to ensure their privacy. 

It was in that room that Lynne would adopt her identity in earnest, and Flynn would be treated to the most pleasurable afternoon of his life. It was a love fueled by matricide and reality-warping misdeeds, yet it remained both mighty and passionate in spite of its dark origins. Dark origins that affected far more than just those in this house.

While Flynn and Lynne were infatuated with one another, something stirred across just outside of their window. A group of six children ran across the empty street, armed with knives, hammers, gardening tools, and one firearm between them. Malice shined in their eyes and screeches escaped their mouths as they marched onward to the woods that made up the natural borders of Murinova. What they were up to was any onlooker’s guess, but one thing was for certain, something was dearly wrong in this town, and it was doubtful that it would, or could, ever get better.