The Internet

Log In or Register

Write (with AI)

The Metamorphosis of the Forgotten Termite Dream

Bookmark
2 Points

You wake up in a dense, dark forest, disoriented and confused. The last thing you remember is stumbling upon an ancient, gnarled tree in the heart of the woods. Its bark was etched with strange symbols that seemed to dance in the dim light. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you touched one of the symbols, feeling a strange vibration hum through you.

A shiver runs down your spine as you try to orient yourself. Yet something feels different, profoundly different. Panic begins to bubble up inside you as you realize your senses are no longer functioning as they should. Your vision sharpens but in a distorted manner, and colors fade into murky shades. Your ears no longer hear the rustling leaves, and your nose no longer catches the scent of the forest ground.

Your hands fly up to your face, but they aren't hands anymore. They are slender, multi-jointed limbs, ending in sharp, thin mandibles. “This can’t be real,” you think, trying to scream, but no sound escapes from where your mouth used to be.

Your gaze drops to your body, and the sight is horrifyingly alien. Your skin—or what used to be your skin—is transforming. A rough, hard exoskeleton is forming, spreading across your body in segmented sections. It’s pale cream-dark brown, with fine details and tiny scales like those of an insect’s.

You try to stand, but your posture is shifting. Unable to stay bipedal, you collapse. Your arms and legs crawl to the ground, and under some unseen force, a third pair of limbs sprouts from your waist, extending downward in horrible symmetry. You are now on all six legs, your human motion gone forever.

Fueled by sheer terror, you fight to crawl away, but each movement feels more natural, more instinctual. Your once flat abdomen swells and inflates grotesquely, merging with your rear. You are growing larger by the moment, relative to your new, tiny world—now reaching four to six inches from head to swollen abdomen.

From deep within, your mind battles against the transformation. “I can’t be this! I’m human!” the thoughts scream, but comprehension is fading. Human memories blur and distort, replaced by those of a queen termite. The desire to devour wood, lay countless eggs, mate with another of your kind, overwhelms you. All these once-repugnant instincts now feel inexplicably right.

Thoughts of family, friends, and human life evaporate, leaving no room for recollection. Language, once a key component of your identity, disintegrates. Words transform into meaningless noises, the sounds of a world you no longer comprehend or belong to.

Your antennae twitch as they emerge, sensing the world in a way you never could as a human. Your evolved black insect eyes recognize the squirming forms of your colony gathering around you. You sense their purpose and they, yours. You have always known you were the queen, the lifeblood of the colony.

The final vestige of your human self whispers, “Don’t forget who you were,” before it too vanishes into the relentless tide of transformation.

There is no more struggle; there is only acceptance and duty.

You are a termite queen, and you have always been a termite queen. Without question, you begin to fulfill your role, consumed by the intrinsic need to lay eggs and nurture your thriving colony.

Your old life is nothing but a void, a forgotten dream drifting into obscurity.

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.

AI Prompts

Prompt: Write the POV transformation story of the 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: You wake up in a dense, dark forest, disoriented and confused. The last thing you remember is stumbling upon an ancient, gnarled tree in the heart of the woods. Its bark was etched with strange symbols that seemed to dance in the dim light. Curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you touched one of the symbols, feeling a strange vibration hum through you. A shiver runs down your spine as you try to orient yourself. Yet something feels different, profoundly different. Panic begins to bubble up inside you as you realize your senses are no longer functioning as they should. Your vision sharpens but in a distorted manner, and colors fade into murky shades. Your ears no longer hear the rustling leaves, and your nose no longer catches the scent of the forest ground. Your hands fly up to your face, but they aren't hands anymore. They are slender, multi-jointed limbs, ending in sharp, thin mandibles. “This can’t be real,” you think, trying to scream, but no sound escapes from where your mouth used to be. Your gaze drops to your body, and the sight is horrifyingly alien. Your skin—or what used to be your skin—is transforming. A rough, hard exoskeleton is forming, spreading across your body in segmented sections. It’s pale cream-dark brown, with fine details and tiny scales like those of an insect’s. You try to stand, but your posture is shifting. Unable to stay bipedal, you collapse. Your arms and legs crawl to the ground, and under some unseen force, a third pair of limbs sprouts from your waist, extending downward in horrible symmetry. You are now on all six legs, your human motion gone forever. Fueled by sheer terror, you fight to crawl away, but each movement feels more natural, more instinctual. Your once flat abdomen swells and inflates grotesquely, merging with your rear. You are growing larger by the moment, relative to your new, tiny world—now reaching four to six inches from head to swollen abdomen. From deep within, your mind battles against the transformation. “I can’t be this! I’m human!” the thoughts scream, but comprehension is fading. Human memories blur and distort, replaced by those of a queen termite. The desire to devour wood, lay countless eggs, mate with another of your kind, overwhelms you. All these once-repugnant instincts now feel inexplicably right. Thoughts of family, friends, and human life evaporate, leaving no room for recollection. Language, once a key component of your identity, disintegrates. Words transform into meaningless noises, the sounds of a world you no longer comprehend or belong to. Your antennae twitch as they emerge, sensing the world in a way you never could as a human. Your evolved black insect eyes recognize the squirming forms of your colony gathering around you. You sense their purpose and they, yours. You have always known you were the queen, the lifeblood of the colony. The final vestige of your human self whispers, “Don’t forget who you were,” before it too vanishes into the relentless tide of transformation. There is no more struggle; there is only acceptance and duty. You are a termite queen, and you have always been a termite queen. Without question, you begin to fulfill your role, consumed by the intrinsic need to lay eggs and nurture your thriving colony. Your old life is nothing but a void, a forgotten dream drifting into obscurity.

Comment Section

Post your own comment: