The Internet

Log In or Register

Write (with AI)

"Metamorphosis of the Yellowjacket Queen"

Bookmark
1 Points

Standing in your backyard, you marvel at the sudden silence that envelops the late afternoon. The usual hum of the city is noticeably absent, and you can hear nothing but the rustling leaves and soft whispers of the wind. Shrugging off a momentary unease, your focus drifts to a small, curious nest under the eaves of your house.

"Strange, I've never noticed that before," you murmur to yourself. However, the more you gaze at the nest, the more an odd sensation spreads through your body—a peculiar warmth followed by an electrifying chill.

Before another thought can form, the ground beneath your feet seems to shift. Dizzy, you grasp the wall for support, but it offers none. Your vision blurs as the world tilts, and you find yourself shrinking, the robust muscles of your limbs dwindling into delicate, spindly structures.

"What... what's happening to me?" you stammer, but the words feel thick, sluggish. Your mouth twists painfully, and you gasp as it compresses and reshapes into hard, chitinous mandibles. Your nose and ears shrivel, leaving your face a smooth, alien plane.

Your back arches, and with a sudden, excruciating burst, a pair of translucent wings sprout. You give an experimental flutter, feeling their power and delicate precision. Legs buckle beneath you, but they too are not your own. Two extra limbs sprout from your waist, leading you to collapse onto all six newly-formed appendages.

"No, no! This can't be real!" you try to scream, yet no sound emerges. Your vocal cords, once capable of elaborate human speech, now lie dormant, leaving you mute.

The very essence of your humanity melts away, and you feel your abdomen swell grotesquely, forming an enormous, segmented wasp's belly with a sharp stinger at its end. Thoughts, memories—they fight for survival as your mind is bombarded with foreign ones. No longer the backyard, nor the house, nor the city hold any significance. Familiarity with man-made objects fades, dully rewritten by the instinctual drive to build, to rule, to populate.

A voice emerges in the void of your mind. *"You were never human. Never male. You have always been a queen. You built this nest. Your drones and workers, they wait for you."*

"I... no, I was—" The thought fizzles out, a whisper against the rising tide of certainty. The reality of being a human male evaporates, replaced by images and sensations. The rough texture of your silken nest, the rhythmic dance of mating with multiple drones, the solitary but powerful urge to lay eggs and expand your kingdom.

*"Lay the eggs, sustain the hive,"* the voice insists. You find solace in it. Humanity, once the bedrock of your being, dissolves into nothing more than a forgotten dream. The recollection of language lapses into meaningless noise.

"Human? Me? No, I am a Yellowjacket queen," you reaffirm in clicks and vibrations understood only by your kind. You recall the days not on two feet but on six legs. You remember emerging from your pupa, the rush of air hitting your fragile wings for the first time, the primal need to mate with drones.

Your body, perfect and complete, shifts with confidence. The sky is clear, inviting. The nest under the porch eaves—a marvel of your design.

A drone approaches, offering a morsel. You accept, your mandibles slicing through efficiently. The instinct to sustain the hive drives you.

The past is gone, the man is no more, only the Queen remains. Lady of the air, ruler of the hive, mother of many. The sun's warmth on your wings feels right, a comfort amid the hum of your ever-expanding empire. You were never anything else.

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 the POV transformation story of the 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: Standing in your backyard, you marvel at the sudden silence that envelops the late afternoon. The usual hum of the city is noticeably absent, and you can hear nothing but the rustling leaves and soft whispers of the wind. Shrugging off a momentary unease, your focus drifts to a small, curious nest under the eaves of your house. "Strange, I've never noticed that before," you murmur to yourself. However, the more you gaze at the nest, the more an odd sensation spreads through your body—a peculiar warmth followed by an electrifying chill. Before another thought can form, the ground beneath your feet seems to shift. Dizzy, you grasp the wall for support, but it offers none. Your vision blurs as the world tilts, and you find yourself shrinking, the robust muscles of your limbs dwindling into delicate, spindly structures. "What... what's happening to me?" you stammer, but the words feel thick, sluggish. Your mouth twists painfully, and you gasp as it compresses and reshapes into hard, chitinous mandibles. Your nose and ears shrivel, leaving your face a smooth, alien plane. Your back arches, and with a sudden, excruciating burst, a pair of translucent wings sprout. You give an experimental flutter, feeling their power and delicate precision. Legs buckle beneath you, but they too are not your own. Two extra limbs sprout from your waist, leading you to collapse onto all six newly-formed appendages. "No, no! This can't be real!" you try to scream, yet no sound emerges. Your vocal cords, once capable of elaborate human speech, now lie dormant, leaving you mute. The very essence of your humanity melts away, and you feel your abdomen swell grotesquely, forming an enormous, segmented wasp's belly with a sharp stinger at its end. Thoughts, memories—they fight for survival as your mind is bombarded with foreign ones. No longer the backyard, nor the house, nor the city hold any significance. Familiarity with man-made objects fades, dully rewritten by the instinctual drive to build, to rule, to populate. A voice emerges in the void of your mind. *"You were never human. Never male. You have always been a queen. You built this nest. Your drones and workers, they wait for you."* "I... no, I was—" The thought fizzles out, a whisper against the rising tide of certainty. The reality of being a human male evaporates, replaced by images and sensations. The rough texture of your silken nest, the rhythmic dance of mating with multiple drones, the solitary but powerful urge to lay eggs and expand your kingdom. *"Lay the eggs, sustain the hive,"* the voice insists. You find solace in it. Humanity, once the bedrock of your being, dissolves into nothing more than a forgotten dream. The recollection of language lapses into meaningless noise. "Human? Me? No, I am a Yellowjacket queen," you reaffirm in clicks and vibrations understood only by your kind. You recall the days not on two feet but on six legs. You remember emerging from your pupa, the rush of air hitting your fragile wings for the first time, the primal need to mate with drones. Your body, perfect and complete, shifts with confidence. The sky is clear, inviting. The nest under the porch eaves—a marvel of your design. A drone approaches, offering a morsel. You accept, your mandibles slicing through efficiently. The instinct to sustain the hive drives you. The past is gone, the man is no more, only the Queen remains. Lady of the air, ruler of the hive, mother of many. The sun's warmth on your wings feels right, a comfort amid the hum of your ever-expanding empire. You were never anything else.

Comment Section

Post your own comment: