The day started like any other. You read the dusty book you found in an old, forgotten corner of the library, your curiosity piqued by the enigmatic title: "Metamorphoses of the Undergrowth Kings." As you delved into the arcane text, the words seemed to blur and shimmer, a strange sensation washing over you.
"What's happening?" you try to shout, but no sound escapes your lips. A chill runs down your spine as you feel your voice, your very ability to scream, vanish altogether.
Suddenly, your ears and nose dissolve into nothingness. Panic arises, but you can't vocalize it. Your jaw tingles and reshapes, mandibles clicking involuntarily. You watch in horror as your eyes swell, transforming into large, black orbs devoid of human expression.
Skin peels away, replaced by a tough, pale cream-dark brown exoskeleton. You stumble, reaching out to steady yourself. Your fingers fuse, morphing into jointed limbs. You feel an unbearable pressure at your waist, and with a sickening twist, a third pair of insect legs sprouts out. Your human legs and arms contort into the same form, and a grotesque bulge pushes outward from your lower body.
Gasping—though no breath comes—you feel your genitals and lower region inflating into a massive, segmented abdomen. You drop to the ground, unable to maintain your bipedal stance, now six-legged and completely transformed.
Your vision blurs as your mind fights against the changes. Fleeting images from your human life flash before you: memories, loved ones, your own face. But they slip away, replaced by new, alien instincts— the craving for wood, the urge to mate, the overwhelming drive to lay eggs.
You try to hold onto your human thoughts, but they fade, overridden by the invasive termite queen identity. Soon, you no longer recognize those fleeting images; they are meaningless to you. Now, only the underground world matters.
"Where am I?" you try to think, but the question dissolves. You now only sense the dark, damp tunnels of your colony.
All around, worker termites move with purpose. You know your role. You have always known your role. You are their queen. You communicate through pheromones, instinctually guiding them. Human words and meanings elude you entirely; they were never yours to know.
A worker approaches, antennae twitching as it brings a piece of wood to your mandibles. You grasp it, feeling satisfaction course through your segmented body as you begin to eat. The taste, the fulfilling sensation of consuming cellulose, is everything.
Your abdomen pulses, the need to lay eggs paramount. Memories of your past life are completely gone, replaced by the all-encompassing desire to continue your line, to perpetuate the colony. You feel the presence of king termites nearby, ready to assist in this crucial task.
You are no longer a human reader. You have transcended that ephemeral existence, understanding the eternal truth of your being. The colony is your world, your life, your purpose.
Here among the tunnels and chambers, you happily embrace your identity as a queen termite, shedding the last vestiges of a life never truly yours.
This story was generated by user TheSadGuys 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.
Prompt: Write the POV transformation story of a male human reader turning into a termite queen, complete with gender change (transforming from a male person to a female insect), shrinking (until the reader now only reaches 4 to 6 inches long from head to abdomen, depending on how many eggs she's carrying, being much bigger than the rest of her colony, although now completely tiny compared with her old human life), body changes (developing mandibles instead of a human jaw, ears and nose vanishing, vocal cords vanishing completely (preventing the reader from making any sounds such as screaming), human eyes growing into much larger black insect eyes, developing a pale cream-dark brown exoskeleton instead of skin (with the internal skeleton dissolving away in exchange for an insect exoskeleton), a pair of antennas on the reader's head, a segmented body, a third pair of limbs from the reader's waist, the reader's arms and legs morph into insect legs to match the third pair of insect legs, posture shift (changing the reader from being bipedal to being on all six now-insect legs), the genitals and rear end merging and greatly inflating into a massive abdomen, etc), age change, and mind/mental change (with the reader's personality and memories being completely replaced with a queen termite's personality and memories, despite his (now her) best efforts on fighting off the mind/mental changes, completely forgetting that she was ever a human (she now knew that she was never anything other than being an insect), and she only remembered and knew that she had always been a termite, she also craved and eat wood, mated with king termites, and being an instinct-filled fertile egg-laying queen termite (which is her true self); plus, she no longer knows any human language nor even understand what they mean, since they are meaningless noises to her and all other termites). There should also be quotes from the characters 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 day started like any other. You read the dusty book you found in an old, forgotten corner of the library, your curiosity piqued by the enigmatic title: "Metamorphoses of the Undergrowth Kings." As you delved into the arcane text, the words seemed to blur and shimmer, a strange sensation washing over you. "What's happening?" you try to shout, but no sound escapes your lips. A chill runs down your spine as you feel your voice, your very ability to scream, vanish altogether. Suddenly, your ears and nose dissolve into nothingness. Panic arises, but you can't vocalize it. Your jaw tingles and reshapes, mandibles clicking involuntarily. You watch in horror as your eyes swell, transforming into large, black orbs devoid of human expression. Skin peels away, replaced by a tough, pale cream-dark brown exoskeleton. You stumble, reaching out to steady yourself. Your fingers fuse, morphing into jointed limbs. You feel an unbearable pressure at your waist, and with a sickening twist, a third pair of insect legs sprouts out. Your human legs and arms contort into the same form, and a grotesque bulge pushes outward from your lower body. Gasping—though no breath comes—you feel your genitals and lower region inflating into a massive, segmented abdomen. You drop to the ground, unable to maintain your bipedal stance, now six-legged and completely transformed. Your vision blurs as your mind fights against the changes. Fleeting images from your human life flash before you: memories, loved ones, your own face. But they slip away, replaced by new, alien instincts— the craving for wood, the urge to mate, the overwhelming drive to lay eggs. You try to hold onto your human thoughts, but they fade, overridden by the invasive termite queen identity. Soon, you no longer recognize those fleeting images; they are meaningless to you. Now, only the underground world matters. "Where am I?" you try to think, but the question dissolves. You now only sense the dark, damp tunnels of your colony. All around, worker termites move with purpose. You know your role. You have always known your role. You are their queen. You communicate through pheromones, instinctually guiding them. Human words and meanings elude you entirely; they were never yours to know. A worker approaches, antennae twitching as it brings a piece of wood to your mandibles. You grasp it, feeling satisfaction course through your segmented body as you begin to eat. The taste, the fulfilling sensation of consuming cellulose, is everything. Your abdomen pulses, the need to lay eggs paramount. Memories of your past life are completely gone, replaced by the all-encompassing desire to continue your line, to perpetuate the colony. You feel the presence of king termites nearby, ready to assist in this crucial task. You are no longer a human reader. You have transcended that ephemeral existence, understanding the eternal truth of your being. The colony is your world, your life, your purpose. Here among the tunnels and chambers, you happily embrace your identity as a queen termite, shedding the last vestiges of a life never truly yours.
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