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"Eclipse of the Human: The Metamorphosis of a Wasp Queen"

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The sun casts golden fingers of light through the window, bouncing off the wooden floorboards as you slowly open your eyes. You stretch out, feeling the pressure of a long night’s sleep weighing on your muscles. "Another day," you murmur to yourself, pushing aside the blanket and clambering out of bed. As you step onto the cool floor, a faint buzzing sound catches your attention. You shake your head, dismissing it as your imagination.

Heading to the bathroom, the buzzing seems to grow louder. It's a subtle, rhythmic hum that starts to seep into your thoughts. Splashing water on your face, you pause for a moment. "Weird," you say aloud, trying to ignore the growing unease. But then, you feel it—a peculiar tingling creeping over your skin, starting from your fingers and toes and crawling inward.

Your pulse quickens, eyes widening as you look down at your hands. "What's happening?" you whisper, watching in horror as your fingers begin to shrink, the flesh melding together to form pointed appendages. A sharp pain shoots through your body, and you gasp, bracing yourself against the sink. The reflection in the mirror becomes a grotesque tableau of changing flesh and bones.

Your human features warp and twist; your mouth contorts into sharp mandibles, your nose and ears vanish entirely. "No... no!" you cry out, or at least you try to, but your vocal cords have dissolved into nothingness, rendering you mute. You can only watch in silence, eyes wide with fear, as your lungs are replaced by a thin tracheal tube allowing you to breathe without making a sound.

The room seems to grow larger, or maybe you're getting smaller. You feel your back arch painfully, a sharp splitting sensation radiating from your spine. Glistening wings unfurl from newly formed sockets, twitching and testing the air. Your vision shifts, and you realize your eyes have expanded into vast, compound structures, showing the world in a mosaic of tiny, sharp images.

Your body continues its grotesque transformation. Your human waist thins and grows into a third pair of skinny, jointed legs. The ceiling looms above you, impossibly distant now. The room feels immense—a cavern compared to your shrinking form. Your abdomen inflates grotesquely, merging with your genitals and rear, forming a segmented, bulbous mass with a sharp, menacing stinger at its end.

You collapse onto all six legs, your bipedal stance now impossible. A stream of unfamiliar memories floods your mind, relentlessly overwhelming your own. They whisper to you, telling you that you were never human, never male. You are, and always have been, a queen—the fertile heart of a thriving hive. The memories of building your nest, laying eggs, and commanding your drones and workers drown out everything you once held dear.

"No! This isn't real! I was human!” you think desperately, clinging to the fragments of your former life. You try to remember your name, your family, anything, but it's a futile battle against the tide. The voice inside your head reassures you, "You are a queen. You have always been a queen. Lay your eggs and ensure the survival of your species."

The human world fades into insignificance. Words and concepts that once held meaning now fracture into meaningless noise. You discover the remnants of your human memories dissolving into the fog of irrelevance. The sun shining through the window is simply warmth; the room is merely a potential nesting site. Even the house’s front porch ceiling becomes a place of refuge for your hive.

You drift away from human comprehension, embracing the instincts of your true nature. You recall emerging from your pupal stage less than a month ago, filled with the urges of a fertile queen. The details of your polyandrous activities with various drones are clear. The days ahead carry only one purpose: to lay eggs and propagate life.

You move with purpose now, exploring the vast room with new eyes. You land on the edge of the windowsill, surveying a world you once knew but now see entirely differently. The soft hum of your wings fills the air, a chorus of life ready to spring forth from your nest.

And so you begin, setting down the first integral layers of your new dominion, driven by the singular, undeniable truth that has replaced your former identity: You are a wasp queen.

This story was generated by user FairlyOddFairies with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.

Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.

AI Prompts

Prompt: Write a POV transformation story of a male human reader turning into a yellowjacket wasp queen (of the species "Vespula germanica", commonly known as the European wasp), complete with gender change (if the reader is a male), shrinking (until the reader is wasp-sized), body changes (the reader's mouth turning into insect mandibles, the reader's nose and ears completely vanishing, the reader's back growing a pair of wasp wings (allowing the reader to fly), the reader's eyes grow into larger black insect eyes, the reader's vocal cords vanishing completely to prevent the reader from talking or making any vocal sounds, the reader's waists growing a third pair of insect legs, the reader's human body morphing into a segmented insect body, the genitals (penis and testicles) and rear end (aka a butt or an ass) merging and greatly inflating into a very large wasp abdomen with a stinger at the tip, the reader losing his (now her) bipedal posture and falling onto all six insect legs, etc), age change, and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories being completely replaced with a queen yellowjacket wasp's personality and memories, despite his (now her) best efforts of holding onto them, with the voice inside the reader's head telling her that she was never a human and never a male to begin with and tells the newly-transformed being that she was always a wasp queen and that she has built her nest filled with drones (males) and workers (sterile females) and the voice in her head urges her to lay eggs to help populate her species, making her completely forgot all about being human or a male, as well as forgetting all about man-made devices and structures, viewing them as nothing significant other than to build her nest onto (including but not limited to the ceiling of the house's front porch), no longer knowing any human language nor even understand what they mean (the human language becomes meaningless noises) despite the voice in her head earlier, and she now only remembers that she was always a female yellowjacket wasp ever since she was a newborn larvae about a month ago, as well as remembering emerging from her pupal stage less than a month ago, and remembers being a fertile queen ever since just a few weeks ago. She also remembers that she is polyandrous, having mated with a moderate number of males (known as drones), between one and seven of them, with no optimal number of mates). There should also be quotes from the characters (including the reader's former male human self) in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).

Response: The sun casts golden fingers of light through the window, bouncing off the wooden floorboards as you slowly open your eyes. You stretch out, feeling the pressure of a long night’s sleep weighing on your muscles. "Another day," you murmur to yourself, pushing aside the blanket and clambering out of bed. As you step onto the cool floor, a faint buzzing sound catches your attention. You shake your head, dismissing it as your imagination. Heading to the bathroom, the buzzing seems to grow louder. It's a subtle, rhythmic hum that starts to seep into your thoughts. Splashing water on your face, you pause for a moment. "Weird," you say aloud, trying to ignore the growing unease. But then, you feel it—a peculiar tingling creeping over your skin, starting from your fingers and toes and crawling inward. Your pulse quickens, eyes widening as you look down at your hands. "What's happening?" you whisper, watching in horror as your fingers begin to shrink, the flesh melding together to form pointed appendages. A sharp pain shoots through your body, and you gasp, bracing yourself against the sink. The reflection in the mirror becomes a grotesque tableau of changing flesh and bones. Your human features warp and twist; your mouth contorts into sharp mandibles, your nose and ears vanish entirely. "No... no!" you cry out, or at least you try to, but your vocal cords have dissolved into nothingness, rendering you mute. You can only watch in silence, eyes wide with fear, as your lungs are replaced by a thin tracheal tube allowing you to breathe without making a sound. The room seems to grow larger, or maybe you're getting smaller. You feel your back arch painfully, a sharp splitting sensation radiating from your spine. Glistening wings unfurl from newly formed sockets, twitching and testing the air. Your vision shifts, and you realize your eyes have expanded into vast, compound structures, showing the world in a mosaic of tiny, sharp images. Your body continues its grotesque transformation. Your human waist thins and grows into a third pair of skinny, jointed legs. The ceiling looms above you, impossibly distant now. The room feels immense—a cavern compared to your shrinking form. Your abdomen inflates grotesquely, merging with your genitals and rear, forming a segmented, bulbous mass with a sharp, menacing stinger at its end. You collapse onto all six legs, your bipedal stance now impossible. A stream of unfamiliar memories floods your mind, relentlessly overwhelming your own. They whisper to you, telling you that you were never human, never male. You are, and always have been, a queen—the fertile heart of a thriving hive. The memories of building your nest, laying eggs, and commanding your drones and workers drown out everything you once held dear. "No! This isn't real! I was human!” you think desperately, clinging to the fragments of your former life. You try to remember your name, your family, anything, but it's a futile battle against the tide. The voice inside your head reassures you, "You are a queen. You have always been a queen. Lay your eggs and ensure the survival of your species." The human world fades into insignificance. Words and concepts that once held meaning now fracture into meaningless noise. You discover the remnants of your human memories dissolving into the fog of irrelevance. The sun shining through the window is simply warmth; the room is merely a potential nesting site. Even the house’s front porch ceiling becomes a place of refuge for your hive. You drift away from human comprehension, embracing the instincts of your true nature. You recall emerging from your pupal stage less than a month ago, filled with the urges of a fertile queen. The details of your polyandrous activities with various drones are clear. The days ahead carry only one purpose: to lay eggs and propagate life. You move with purpose now, exploring the vast room with new eyes. You land on the edge of the windowsill, surveying a world you once knew but now see entirely differently. The soft hum of your wings fills the air, a chorus of life ready to spring forth from your nest. And so you begin, setting down the first integral layers of your new dominion, driven by the singular, undeniable truth that has replaced your former identity: You are a wasp queen.

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