Polymorph Parasite: Fatherly Concern, Part 1 (MtF TG AR) (Patreon)

By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Jack Mackenzie

Raymond has a problem: his daughter Tiffany is dating a boy. And not just any boy, but a philosophical type that doesn’t understand what it is to be a real man. Already, Raymond has given him the warnings, all for nothing. But when Raymond is infected by a parasite after a sexual dalliance, he does begin to understand the appeal of her daughter’s boyfriend, all thanks to his body transforming into a very lusty young woman’s . . .

A quasi sequel to Polymorph Parasite and Polymorph Parasite Returns, though neither story is necessary reading to follow this one. Enjoy!

Polymorph Parasite: Fatherly Concern

Raymond answered the door with his shotgun in his hands and his handgun on his hip. His sunglasses were firmly affixed, and his cowboy hat sitting comfortably on his middle-aged head. He knew the image he was presenting, and it was the kind that would have sent any reasonable door knocker either running, or at least giving Raymond a healthy dose of respect.

Instead, his daughter’s boyfriend Robert - Rob, as he apparently preferred - just nodded amiable and tipped his own hat.

“Morning, Raymond,” he said easily. “Heading out to the range, are you?”

“No,” Raymond said brusquely. “I’m always ready to defend myself, you know that Robert. And it’s Mr Benson to you.”

“Just Rob for me then,” he said, smiling easily, almost cheekily. “I’m here to see Tiffany.”

Raymond continued to block the door. “What for?”

“Well, you may be aware that we’re sort of dating.”

Raymond patted his shotgun. “So I keep hearing. You know, I still don’t understand what she sees in you, Robert.”
 Again, the lack of reaction from Rob was infuriating. He just shrugged his shoulders. “You’ll have to ask her, Raymond. She’s your daughter, after all. I would have thought you knew her best.”

Raymond grit his teeth, his fingers clenched upon the weapon that hung in his hands so uselessly. Still, despite Rob approaching, he held his position at the door, the guardian to his house.

“Just so you know, Robert,” he said, stretching out every word into a threatening Texan drawl. “I would do anything to protect my family, and my little girl. Against any threat. Any, do you understand?”

Rob was all cool and calm and collected, his hands in his pockets as if nothing was the matter. “Well, good luck with that, Ray. If you don’t mind?”

Raymond was about to say something even more overtly threatening, when suddenly his daughter ran up from behind him, her blonde hair trailing behind her, her figure dressed in an outfit that was far too provocative for the modest way he’d raised her. She had ripped jeans and a shirt that showed off part of her damned midriff.

“Dad, is it Rob? Is that Rob at the door?”

“Honey, what on earth are you wearing? You look ridiculous!”

She sighed deeply at his remark, before pushing him aside. To Raymond’s incredible frustration, she literally leapt into Robert’s arms before kissing him, her hands playing briefly with his spiky black hair. Raymond almost dropped the gun. What was the appeal of this man, with his ridiculous motorcycle and leather jacket? It was absurd, and more than that, the motorcycle wasn’t even American. 

“Dad, you’re the one being ridiculous,” Tiffany finally said, still clutching her boyfriend. She stroked his beard lightly, the one he’d continually failed to shave off his ridiculous black goatee and be professional despite Raymond’s constant insistence. “I’m twenty one years old. I can vote. I can drive. I can drink. And I can wear what I want.”

“Not while you’re under this roof, missy!” Raymond declared.

His daughter just shrugged. “Then we’ll go elsewhere. Town, babe?”

“Sounds like a plan, Tiff.”

“She’s not Tiff!” Raymond barked. “She’s Tiffany. And where are you taking her?”

“Just a date, Ray,” Rob said, already walking Tiffany to his motorcycle and passing a helmet to her. “Don’t worry, I won’t break too many road rules.”

Raymond was too furious to bark out an angry command, except for his standard: “You will respect the authority of your father, Tiffany!”

But she already had the helmet on and was waving him goodbye, with about as much sarcasm and irritation as possible, the ungrateful thing.

“Goddamn it,” he grunted to himself, throwing his gun to the ground rather dangerously. “What the hell does she see in that rule-breaking, disrespectful bad boy? He doesn’t respect his elders or tradition at all!”

He didn’t quite realise that he’d probably just answered his own question.

***

The problem, as Raymond saw it, was that his daughter simply wasn’t conservative enough. His ex-wife Margaret disagreed, and was likely the font of inspiration for this latest act of pointless post-teenage rebellion. More than once he’d lamented out loud - even in Tiffany’s presence - that he’d wished she’d been born a boy. Had she been a Tom, a Dick, or a Harry, he could have taken her hunting, shown her how to replace a tire, talked about cars endlessly. Manly stuff. But with Tiffany it had been frilly dresses and dolls, then pads and tampons and teen drama, and now boys and dating and outfits that were far too showy. It repulsed him, and just as he’d refused to change a diaper in his life no matter how much Margaret had pleaded with him, so did he refuse to wade into the red waters of menstruation aid, or ever try to learn what made his daughter’s fascination with bad boy Rob tick. All he cared about was making her come to her damn senses, and getting that Japanese motorcycle-riding freak off of his lawn.

So after his latest setback, during which he’d stayed up late until she’d returned on Rob’s motorcycle, then proceeded to bark at her as soon as she’d come in, he was more determined than ever to end this relationship by any means possible. She’d thank him lately, of course. Women always came to their senses, except for Margaret. But she had moved states away, and while Tiffany had planned to go live with her mom on a permanent basis, Rob had turned up in Raymond’s own home city, sending the damn fool of a girl starry eyed.

“There’s gotta be a way to get rid of him but not let Margaret have her,” he huffed to himself, drinking beers late one night while waiting for her to return. “There’s got to be a way to break it down, find her a nice conservative man, and not let that hussy of her mother get her claws back into her.”

But he was damned if he could think of a way, especially not at 11.30pm. But things would change the day following, all thanks to a chance encounter.

***

Raymond’s pick up needed its service. He could do it himself, of course, but the damn government needed their paperwork when it came to making sure everything was all proper and legal on the street. He hated it, but on the other hand, the engine had been kicking up a bit, so he decided to book it in and swallow his pride. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. His last choice of mechanic had been a total no-nothing - they even had a damn woman on staff! - so he chose a new location this time, one called ‘Gabe’s Autos.’

It seemed a good enough place as he rolled in and got out, and the two men running the show seemed to have a handle on what they were doing. 

“Sure, we can have it all good and calibrated today if you have a spare few hours,” the one called Ed said.

“Absolutely,” the one called Malcolm added. “You’re welcome to hang around.”

Raymond raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, look, I’ve got other things to do, and can’t see a reason to stick around for several hours. I figure I’ll grab a taxi and-”

“Oh, that would be so very disappointing, mister,” came a new voice, and a very sultry one at that. 

Raymond turned, and was shocked at what he saw. He disliked the notion of female mechanics on principle, it being a man’s job and all, but this woman was something else entirely. She had to be in her late twenties, with longer dirty blonde hair that framed her tight mechanic uniform perfectly. Her large, melon-like breasts were wonderfully displayed by the open zipper at the front, and the belt cinched around her waist to reveal her hourglass shape beneath. Her face was partly smudged from working machines, but her lips were still ruby red from her lipstick, and her eyeshadow gave her the appearance of a devilish temptress. A rogue. A rulebreaker. All the kinds of attributes that Raymond should have hated, that he did hate in Robert.

But Raymond was nothing if not hypocritical deep down, as all men like him are, not that he’d ever admit it. He gaped briefly at the sight of her, then leered at her perfect tits as she sauntered to him.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Gayle,” she said. “I own this place. And I really, really like meeting the customers and taking care of them in private. You look like the kind of handsome older guy who wouldn’t mind chatting to a girl like me.”

He decided he didn’t, and automatically assumed a confident manly pose. It was a bit difficult, given that he had a bit of a sagging gut as of the last few years of his life, and his hair arms, while thick, weren’t exactly building with muscles.

“Lead the way, Gayle,” he said.

She took his arm, leading him out of the main room of the store. Ed and Malcolm gave a knowing grin in Raymond’s direction - was this her usual manner? No, he put that out of mind. Clearly this young fox of a woman recognised a man who was the real deal, old-fashioned in all the best ways. That’s what he deluded himself into thinking at least. She opened a door to a private office with her name on it, though judging from the previous half-removed stencilling on the window it’d once belonged to a man named ‘Gabe.’

“Your father, I guess?” he suggested as she brought him inside the space and closed the shutters to the outside world.

“Hmm?” she said, tossing her hair.

“Gabe?”

She giggled. “Oh, that’s just . . . an old life. You can ignore it. The only thing that matters is that I’m here now, honey, and I want you bad.”

Raymond blinked. This woman was indeed forward. By his own proclaimed morality, he should have condemned this kind of behaviour. But he was nothing if not a hypocrite in private, and his prick was already getting might hard as she unbuttoned her mechanic’s uniform further.

“You do, do you, doll?”

She moaned sensuously. “Ohhh, yesssss, I do. I love men like you. I heard you talking to Ed and Mal and they pointed you my way. Older, traditional men make me so fucking hot you have no idea. It makes me want to give you some private customer service, if you know what I mean.”

Raymond grinned. If anything was going to make him feel like a man again, it was going to be fucking a hot young blonde with big tits, especially if . . .

“I’ll tell you what makes an older manly guy like me pretty hot,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” she replied, moving towards him, letting her breasts bounce in her lacy bra, her hips swaying from side to side. “What would that be?”

“If a girl with nice lips like yours went down on my hard cock. How about that?”

For a moment, just a moment, there was a tension on her features. Then it resolved into an obviously horny excitement. “Wow, I don’t do that very often, mister. Back when I was . . . mhmm, that doesn’t matter. I’ll make it worth your while, don’t you worry.”

And she did. Good Lord, she did. Raymond was trapped in the most unexpected and delightful ecstasy as she wrapped her mouth around his erect dick not long after unbuckling his trousers. She had directed him to relax in her seat, the boss’s seat, all while she crouched down on her knees and sucked him off. She expertly rubbed and stroked his shaft, even caressing his balls, all while taking him deep inside her mouth. He gripped her hair possessively. His ex-wife had hated him doing that, said it was painful, but this woman simply moaned all the more, her body in sweet ecstasy simply in the act of pleasuring him. 

“God, you’re a wonderful slut, aren’t you?” he asked her.

“Mhmmm,” she said, nodding slightly and looking up at him. For just a moment there was that look of regret in her eyes, or perhaps resignation, but then it became excitement again, and she continued to give him the best blowjob he had ever recieved. When he finally came, it was explosively, him grunting loudly and low as he shot thick wads of his seed right down her throat. Somehow, she seemed to climax also, the mere act of making him cum in her mouth causing her to whimper, her body to writhe.

“Looks like you enjoyed that present I gave you,” he said, smirking.

She licked the head of his cock, nodding. “I did,” she managed. “Ohhhh, I did.”

What he didn’t realise was that she had given him a little present without meaning to as well. One that would change his life more than he could ever imagine.

***

The polymorph parasite did not feel pleasure as you and I would know it. It experienced rushes of hormones, of dopamine and ecstasy, but it did not have ‘happiness’ or ‘joy’ so much as relief and instinctive satisfaction at having completed a primal directive. This was the flood of feeling it experienced now, having achieved one of these directives, the most important directive of all for any organism on the planet; reproduction.

Currently, the parasite resided inside the one known as Gayle. When it had come from its own parent parasite and resided within her, she had been a male of her species, one known as Gabe. But in order to maximise his potential both as a carrier for the parasite, a deliverer of sexual hormones upon which it fed, and a potential deliverer of future parasitic young to other hosts, the parasite had turned him slowly into an attractive young female, one who couldn’t help but follow her own new instincts to mate constantly. This had been the case for years now, not that the parasite had a concept of years. But for three human years Gayle had become resigned to her new life thanks to it, constantly needing to ‘service’ human customers with her female body and accept her new life, never knowing what had changed her in the first place. This suited the parasite which had bonded fully to her, but as the years had passed, it too felt a further compulsion, and this had led to the creation of a second immature parasite within the host’s body, microscopic in scale. It would be doomed to die as a competitor unless a new host was found.

Thankfully, one had just been located.

As Gayle indulged in the sexual act of taking a male reproductive organ inside her consumption receptacle, the polymorph parasite urged its tiny young to swim the vast distance up to the subject’s mouth. It was in the throes of pleasure, and it gave that pleasure to Gayle as well as it always did, causing a wonderful hormonal feedback. But far sweeter this time was the completion of that biological directive: its new young completed the transition, travelling up Gayle’s throat, attaching itself to the member of the male having intercourse with her, and then sliding into his tunnel. It was a race against time to make it further into the male’s system before he could ejaculate, but while the parasite could not feel what we would know as ‘confidence,’ it experienced a certainty that the transfer had been a success.

Had the parasite been more sapient, it might have been aware that this was the first ever oral transmission of its kind to a host body. But it was not, and it was too focused on its pleasure beside. The deed was done, a new host had been found as a receptacle for its young, and the whole business was over, its pattern now able to return to the usual.

But for the male named Raymond, things were only just beginning.

***

Ramond stared at his reflection in the mirror. It had been three days since the strange encounter with that hot piece of ass, and he was still thinking about doing something to bust up his pick up just so he could take it back and have her fuck him again. She hadn’t exactly given him a number, but boy had she put a spring in his step, and it was evident from his appearance: he hadn’t looked so young or healthy in years!

“Jesus, are those hairs coming back?”

He felt over his hair. While Tiffany had inherited her mother’s blondness, he’d always had darker hair himself. But in the last few years a growing bald spot had emerged, and there was little to hide it. Now though, that had seemingly reversed; there was the growth of new black hair along the top of his head, and even his short-trimmed hair elsewhere seemed a little longer, a little thicker, a little lusher.

“Is that even possible?”

He posed to the side, his attention going to his gut. It had thinned a little too, and the weight scales confirmed it. True, he’d eaten less the last few days, and had been experiencing a strange churn within his body, but it wasn’t like he was dieting or working out or anything. And yet he seemed more limber, more energetic, like he could take on the world. Even his slightly chubby cheeks had pulled in a bit.

“Goddamn,” he said. “Maybe that was just it. After years of Margaret being a damn dead fish in the bedroom, I just needed a woman who knew her damn place to, heh, ‘service’ me.”

It made him chuckle, though a rumble in his stomach gave him pause. That had been happening a bit lately too, ever since the sex. It was probably just all the excitement from days ago; he’d hit a dry spell for too long before hand. What he didn’t know was that it was anything but; the parasite within him was maturing fast, and it was already feeding on his hormonal changes and remembrance of the sexual experience. It was changing him to be more virile, more enthusiastic, all to eventually begin feeding on the dopamine produced during a climax. But it had inherited much of the memory of its parent, and knew what kind of body produced those hormones in abundance. As such, a new organ was slowly blooming into being within Raymond, one that would have made him scream to know of it.

Raymond Benson was growing a uterus.

Another rumble, and he grunted. 

“Maybe I should go see a -”

He halted as the loud sound of a motorcycle pulling up outside his home resounded. His eyes widened, and anger boiled within him. Raymond got up and stormed outside, slamming the door open in time to witness his daughter pulling her helmet off and grinning in his direction.

“Hey Dad!” she said. “I’ve invited Rob over for dinner with us! It’s time you two finally got on.”

“Honey, you can’t possibly expect me to-”

“I’ll help cook Dad, but you will let him over. I’m serious. If you want anything to do with me, you and him will learn to get along.”

Rob was still on the motorcycle, clad in his ridiculous leather jacket. He shrugged in Raymond’s direction, as if he too had little say in his girlfriend’s strong-willed plan. Raymond just sneered at the badboy, still finding it insufferable that his daughter would date such a man, especially one that cared so deeply about his own looks, or who had no clear plan for his life. But then he saw Tiffany’s face; resolute and calm, and refusing to budge. She got that look from Margaret, and he’d seen a similar expression before she’d left him too. He refused to let that happen to Tiffany. He had to sabotage their relationship while preserving the one with his daughter.

“F-fine,” he muttered. “Dinner it is. But I’ll cook and do it proper. Ribs.”

She grinned, and actually did something she hadn’t done for a while; she hugged him. “Thank you, daddy,” she said.

But Raymond was staring across at Robert, barely hiding his disgust. Robert didn’t look too enthused either.

***

The polymorph parasite was not human, and therefore could not truly understand the interactions its host was having with its female progeny and said progeny’s partner. But it was still intelligent in its own way, and more so than its own progenitor, as each parasite inherited its forerunner’s memories and skill, evolving rapidly to further sentience and maybe even sapience. As such, it did recognise the conversation its unwitting host was having to be an ‘awkward’ one, fraught with tension and carefully laid words. Even as the parasite worked further changes slowly throughout its host’s body, increasing in size itself and spreading its influence through his body, it was able to gain an understanding of what its host was doing.

Raymond Benson was sabotaging his daughter’s relationship, deliberately.

This was fascinating to the parasite; it needed to learn more about host interaction to better its own chances at facilitating mating and sexual energy soon. And so it focused on listening - through its newly developed connections to the host’s auditory systems - to the conversation.

“So Robert, what do you plan to do with your life?”

“He doesn’t really make plans, Dad. He lives life one step at a time. It’s so cool.”

“Perfectly put, babe.”

“Sure, sure. But you also need to support yourself, and my daughter too if you continue to date her. What are you going to do about fuel? Bills? Shelter? Food and water?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“Lots of people say that. I hear those Japanese bikes require expensive maintenance though.”

“Nah, they run smooth, Ray. Barely neeed to touch them.”

“You should buy American. I want my daughter to date a patriot, not a sellout.”

“Dad!”

“I’m only being honest, honey.”

“I don’t think the type of bike I drive is anyone’s business to be honest, Ray.”

“It is when I look at the fatality stats on bike passengers. Honey, did you know that your chances of dying while riding with Robert here is twenty six times higher than with a car?”

“I’ll be find, Dad.”

“Try saying that when you get spread over the pavement. So Robert, you don’t have a plan, but you have a job, right?”

“Yeah, I work at the petrol station on ninth. I get cheaper gas there.”

“So, you’re a gas attendant?”

There was a pause, an almost embarrassed one. The polymorph parasite could already detect some of its hosts lies: the made up statistics, the exaggerated concern, the anecdotes about his own life that he embellished in order to warn his progeny of her poor choice of mate. It was fascinating to the parasite. This human, instead of celebrating his daughter’s success in finding a virile mate, instead was horrified by it. 

Almost, it thought in a near-human manner, almost as if the father was jealous of the daughter. Or guarding her jealously. Or viewing the man as a competitor for the daughter’s affections. This, it could use.

The parasite extended its reach, feeding off of the fat and excess tissue of its host to grow further, connecting to the optical nerves of its host. It examined the other male in the room, and instinct led it to conclude that this a mighty virile individual. The male was young, attractive (at least to female host species, he would be), appeared to be in prime fitness, and had some kind of sociological appeal to the female known as ‘Tiffany’ that her father kept referring to as a ‘bad boy look.’

The parasite could indeed use this. It could use this precisely, and it could channel its own host’s frustrations to feed his changes, redirecting hormones and chemicals to all the right places. It began its work immediately.

***

Raymond went to bed smiling that night. He had seen the uncertainty on his daughter’s face, witnessed her inability to answer questions about how she and Rob would cope on the road together if they ever did take on their dream of living that way. It had been delicious, dismantling the normally confident young man. Whereas out on the porch it had been Raymond continually outdone, here in his own house, within his own walls, he had triumphed. Oh, Robert had never shown it, of course. The young punk had been as calm and collected as ever, shrugging continually when unable to answer a question satisfactorily. But he wasn’t stupid, and both men had noticed that doubts were creeping into Tiffany’s mind about her bad boy boyfriend. He had done his best to remind her of all the good times they’d had together when she was younger, all the memories of this house, all the stability it had offered her in childhood. He had used that as a crowbar to crack upon their relationship, preying on the fact that as rebellious as she was, she had also never truly taken a big leap before.

“That brief look of concern on his face, ha!” he cackled to himself. He had to be quiet, as Tiffany was asleep downstairs, for once in bed on time and with no Rob scurrying around the garden outside like a rodent to try and abscond with her.

“Yes, that look on his face.”

Indeed, the image of Rob stayed in his mind for longer than he’d anticipated. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he lowered his hand down to his manhood and began to stroke it, still thinking of Rob’s face, his body, his leather jacket persona. His penis hardened, and the conservative father began to stroke it. 

“Mmhm, yeah,” he grunted to himself, rubbing ever more firmly, now fully masturbating. “Yessss. I b-beat you. I fucking beat you.”

He imagined Rob grinning. Imagined him without his leather jacket on, with just that white singlet. Imagined that smug smile and dark, bad boy look in his eyes.

“Nghh . . . ahhh . . . ahhhh!!”

He came, and came hard. His seed splattered into the bedsheets, and the climax lasted longer than he was used to, almost as long as it had been with Gayle. He held his cock, still rubbing it, but even as he did so the realisation of what he’d just done fell upon him like a ton of bricks.

“What the fuck . . . what the fuck was that about?”

He rationalised it quickly. It was the feeling of domination, of course. The sensation of having beaten an opponent, and established his own fatherly supremacy. His power over his dominion. He cleaned up quickly, embarrassed but quickly getting over it.

But when he slept, he dreamed of motorcycles and leather jackets and confident, roguish grins . . .

***

As the days passed, Raymond continued to needle at the relationship between Tiffany and Robert. It was surprisingly easy; for some reason, he was able to tap into his daughter’s insecurities and feelings with incredible precision, understanding how she felt, what her worries were, and what she saw in Rob as well. He had no idea why this was the case, but the polymorph parasite certainly did, at least on some inhuman level; it was dumping massive amounts of transformative chemicals into his system, flooding his body with estrogen, and leaving him much more emotional. Not only that, but he was also developing a womanly intuition. This manifested as a continual intrigue towards Rob - Raymond often thought of him as ‘Rob’ and not ‘Robert’ now. More than once, Raymond actually experienced a strange spike of relief when he turned up on his motorcycle, or when Tiffany invited him around for dinner, or when Raymond would see Rob at the petrol station . . . despite the fact that Raymond had no reason to go that way for his petrol. He didn’t even work near the city, or work at all; a worker’s compensation case for an old injury had set him up, even after the divorce. Yes still, he found himself seeking Rob out.

“Just for research,” he told himself, scratching his head. His daughter had pointed out that he was clearly “wearing a wig” lately until he showed her otherwise. When her astonishment about his new full head of hair was expressed, he had to lie on the spot.

“I got some extra money undertaking one of those new pill tests. It’s about . . . male pattern baldness, or whatever. Youth drug, y’know.”

It wasn’t the most convincing lie, but Tiffany had clearly seen enough of her father’s insecurities over his own manliness to believe it.

“Well, it looks good. Getting a bit long though, isn’t it? I thought you hated guys with long hair, Dad.”

“I do, I do! I’m just . . . uh, letting it grow in, honey. Anyway, don’t question your father’s fashion choices when you’re the one who needs to be dressing more modestly. I’m sick and tired of neighbours asking me questions about what nasty business you’re getting up to!”

It was enough to sever the bridge that was forming between them in that moment, because she huffed and walked off. “Fuck you, Dad!”

Normally, he would have shouted at her to go to her room, even if she was now twenty one years old. Instead, a funny thing happened: tears formed in his eyes.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered to himself as he rubbed his eyes. “Why am I so emotional?”

“Oh, and another thing!” Tiffany shouted, appearing from the top of the staircase she’d just run up. “You always judge me for how I look, but lately you’ve been really weird! Put the goddamn nipples away Dad, no one wants to see them!”

His jaw dropped as she disappeared from view and then slammed the door shut to her room. Looking down, he could indeed see that his nipples were oddly swollen. They had been like that on and off the past few days, but he thought it was just a temporary irritation. Now, they looked bigger than ever, and the flesh beneath them was sore as well.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered. “Right as things were going well. Has this got something to do with why I’ve been looking sick lately?”

He didn’t look sick. Far from it, in fact; he was thinner than ever, though his height had dropped an inch without him realising it. The polymorph parasite was hard at work altering his dimensions, and it had left his limbs increasingly limber, particularly his legs, which had previously developed tree-trunk proportions around his thighs. His face had lost any sag and looked younger, while his lips had puffed up a little. It was hard for him to view these changes too critically though; the parasite was also drawing upon the memories of near-disasters that its progenitor and progenitor’s progenitor had experienced, when their hosts had nearly rejected them entirely and sought medical help. As such, it dumped calming chemicals into Raymond’s brain whenever he got too weirded out or agitated by his changes, making his mind foggy in those moments, and difficult for him to question the changes.

Still, he couldn’t help but examine himself in the shower the next day. His nipples were pinker, and larger, and were developing what looked like rounded areolas around them. Moreover, his pectorals were swelling again, but not in the way they had when he’d had ‘manboobs’ from his beer drinking. Instead, there was a more . . . natural softness to them. A firmness and roundness that was only growing, if he were to judge from the achiness that accompanied them. His body hair had thinned considerably, and his hips seemed somewhat wider. Or was it just that his waist was thinner? (it was both, of course. The parasite knew that an hourglass figure was necessary to please a mate).

“This hair is getting to be way too much,” he said. “Need to cut it. Way too long.”

The fringe alone was easily falling over his eyes now, and when he looked in the mirror after he finished drying himself it was obvious that his features looked almost feminine as a result.

“Jesus, hopefully it all goes down. Don’t want to look ridiculous in front of Rob.” His eyes went wide at what he’d just said. “So I can teach that young punk some damn fucking manners, I mean!”

And yet still, the thought of Rob stirred within him, aided by the changes to his brain facilitated by the parasite. His dick slowly became erect, and the image of that roguish young man leapt into his head once again.

“Nhhgh,” he grunted, feeling the need come upon him again. “J-just need to think of Gayle. That hot blonde bombshell. Yeah.”

He masturbated in the shower cubicle, trying to think of her and those magnificent tits and blowjob she gave. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t attractive at all, in fact. At least, not in the sense that he hoped. Instead, his mind rotated the image, placing him as Gayle, prostrate before Rob, bending down on his knees and tugging the man off. 

“What . . . no! Ohhhh, but it’s so f-fucking hot . . .”

He tried to fight the revolting image, but it wasn’t revolting at all to him now. He imagined being Gayle, sucking down on Rob’s long, thick rod and pleasing him to his full. Even better, he imagined being the kind of girl that Rob would truly want. Not a blonde mechanic, no matter how hot she was, but instead a punk girl. The kind of bad girl that Tiffany pretended to be but never could be. A babe with short, dark hair, facial and tongue piercings, and dark purple lipstick and heavy eyeshadow. A woman who could pull off a leather jacket appearance herself, but no one would ever mistake her for a man because she’d always show off her midriff and tattooed lower back, and her big, beautiful tits. 

“B-big tits,” Raymond grunted, imagining them. They were a source of great arousal, but not because he wanted to push his face into them or suck on them, but because he wanted to have them. Big, bouncy, heavy boobs for Rob to appreciate. His daughter had inherited her mother’s good looks, but Margaret had always been flat as a board.

“I c-could be better,” he said, still tugging on his erection. His cock seemed smaller lately, much smaller in fact, and it took him longer to achieve climax. But it didn’t matter; the idea of becoming a hot punk chick who Rob would obsess over was fixed firmly in his mind, so when climax came, it came hard.

“Ahhhhh, yesssss!” he groaned, voice cracking at the midpoint to become higher. “Rob, I w-want you - oohhhhh!!!”

His voice rose higher again, making him sound quite effeminate. The last of his cum spilled onto the shower floor, leaving him panting. The cold epiphany of what he’d just imagined and been aroused by began to sink into his mind, and with it came a cold dread that left him gazing at his reflection in horrified shame.

“What the fuck - why did I just - nngh!”

But it was too late. The parasite had been flooded with sexual pleasure, and this was enough to strengthen it yet further. It flexed its new power, stretching outwards to fuse with more and more of its host’s body, and in doing so immediately enacted a bevy of changes on a much larger scale than before.

Raymond gasped as they hit him. He doubled over, feeling the pressure in his waist, in his chest, in his rear and in his crotch. His hair grew longer, turning even blacker, while his face began to rearrange, feminising more completely. The man’s age reversed, the parasite bringing him back to the prime of his life. Wrinkles ironed out, age spots disappeared, and tired lines from years and years of hating on everything the younger generations did simply vanished along with them. Ray grunted, reaching back to hold his spine. For a moment he was terrified it was breaking, but then the segments of his backbone began to compress, pushing downward and pulling inward so that his impressive six foot height fell away. His limbs likewise reduced in length, shrinking back even as the skin softened.

“This c-can’t be happening! What the f-fuck is h-happening to m-m-meee!? Ohhhhh G-God! It’s t-too muhhhhch!”

His cock, already smaller in size, shrank in size even more, and yet at the same time it also hardened again, his whole body aroused by the power of the changes. The parasite could not keep this up forever, but it fed on this temporary feedback loop, further empowering the transformation. Soon Raymond was developing sharp cheekbones that sat higher upon his face, and even his jawline was softening a little. His neck, always a little flabby, becoming slender and almost elegant. His ass swelled, pushing outwards but losing its paunchiness. 

“S-stop this! Oh G-God! Stop thissssss - nnghhh!!!”

Another climax, another orgasm. Very little left his penishead this time; he hadn’t had time for a proper refractory period, and his reserves of semen were nearly at an end thanks to the parasite; it was suckering them all up as a food source, which had the intended additional effect of further feminising him.

Raymond panted for a long time, his chest feeling all strange, his body feeling all wrong. He was terrified to look in the mirror, but knew he had to, because with each release of his breath he could hear his own gasping voice, one that didn’t sound like him at all. Not in the least. Slowly, he raised his vision.

And stared.

And blinked.

And dropped his jaw.

“No. No no no no no fucking no. It can’t be. This has to be some kind of f-fucking dream! What kind of emasculating feminazi bullshit is happening to me!?”

His body had changed more dramatically than before, enough to cut through to his foggy psyche. For one, his hair was now down to his chin, to the point where he had to part it just to see properly. His face was one much more feminine, looking as if he’d had work done on it. His lips were pouty, his chin a bit softer, and the flab of his cheeks were gone. More than that, his eyebrows and nose and eyes were all more female in appearance, looking almost sultry, or sly, or both. This matched the rest of his changing body, because a new development terrified him more than any of the rest put together.

“Tits. I’ve got actual tits.”

He placed his trembling hands - themselves smoother and smaller and much less hairier now - upon his similarly hairless chest. The sensation that met his grasping gropes made him wince and immediately pull away. His nipples were left stiffened. Erect. Hard.

“Mhmm, why do they feel like that? Goddamnit, did Tiffany leave one of her soaps for me to use without thinking? Is it a damn rash?”

But as stubborn and angry as he was, Raymond knew this went far beyond any rash. His hips had gotten wider, his legs more shapely, his waist thinner. And the breasts on his chest were very much real, perky little A-cups that were just big enough to warrant more than a training bra. Big enough, in fact, to have just a faint jiggle to them.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. “FUCK!!!”

The parasite went hard to work rectifying this, but it was reduced, lacking energy and power. It did what it could to calm him down, as Ray was on the cusp of calling the emergency health line before something stopped him. He couldn’t say for certain what, so his forever-rationalising mind did it for him.

“No, no way. I won’t have them thinking I’m some sort of Sodomite-looking malformed freak. Not some kind of three-gendered metrosexual weirdo. There’s got to be an explanation for this that I can figure out and solve myself. Like a man.”

He had no idea how ironic that statement was becoming.

***

“Dad, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Raymond winced. He’d had his hair cut. He’s done his best to dirty up his face. He’d even done something he’d never imagined doing: he went to the pharmacy and bought some supplements to increase his manliness (the parasite would have scoffed at this feeble attempt, were it capable of doing so). Not to mention he was wearing a baggy shirt and older pair of casual at-home trousers to disguise the changes to his form.

And still Tiffany saw straight through it.

“What are you talking about honey?” he said. “And mind your language! No woman should be speaking that way, least of all to her father.”

She folded her arms and gestured to him. They were standing in the living room, and thank God that Rob wasn’t here. Raymond had Rob on his mind too much lately, and just thinking about it made his small breasts ache with the promise of future growth.

“Dad, I don’t give a shit about that-”

“Language!” he croaked, trying to keep his voice. It was an effort, sounding like he had the ball squeak of a teen boy just starting to go through puberty. “I mean, language Tiffany. I hope you’re not picking up those terrible cuss words from that horrible handsome boy you’re dating.”

“Dad, this is nothing to do with Rob and everything to do with - wait, did you just call Rob handsome for some reason?”

Raymond paused in mid-lecture, hanging on that awkward point. “I just meant that ironically, for Chrissakes-”

“Language, Dad.”
 “Don’t be short with me, young missy! You live under my roof and-”

“And I won’t be soon, especially if you keep being so weird! What’s going on with you lately? You’ve always been horrible to any boys I date, especially ones I like, but ever since I started going out with Rob you’ve been more aggressive than ever.”
 “I’m just protecting my family,” he said, scratching his chest without meaning to, which only made his stiffening nipple obvious against the material of his top.

“Bullshit!”

“Language!”

But Tiffany was finding her voice and putting her foot down. It drove him mad to see and hear it, but something about the changes was making him less able to assert himself, especially in the face of such righteous anger. His daughter cut off his attempt to continue, riding roughshod over him.

“And another thing is what’s in front of me right now! Are you getting surgery? Is this trying to make me feel weird? Is this a goddamn mid-life crisis?”

“I told you that I’m taking a medical trial for hair and-”

She stepped forward and dared to poke her own Dad in the chest. To Raymond’s embarrassment, he actually squeaked in response to his tender right boob being prodded. Even Tiffany seemed shocked at the strange feeling of his chest, but continued right on:

“Your face is all different! You’ve got obvious frickin’ lip filler! Have you had a liposuction or something? Because you’ve seriously lost weight quicker than is literally possible otherwise. You’re actually looking like the kind of guys you’ve made fun of all your life. Is this your way of coming out of the closet or something?”

Raymond’s anger increased, incensed by her final question. “That’s it! You apologise to your father right now! I won’t have you disrespecting me in my house, especially making comments about who I’m attracted to you. And by the way, missy, I’m as straight as an arrow and besides-”

His rage suddenly flatlined. The sound of a motorcycle rocking up outside caught his attention, as well as Tiffany’s.

 “We’ll talk about this later,” she said, moving for the door.
 “Not another step! I’ve warned you about this Rob fellow!”

She spun on the spot, fierceness in her eyes. “Oh yeah? Well thanks for that! Because due to your little sabotage, we’re having real fucking problems at the moment. I was actually dumb enough to listen to your little speech the other night and try to push him into finding a plan, and we had a whole argument - he wants to be a free spirit, but I still want a house when I’m older like you always wanted. But now I see that effort for what it was; just another fucking attempt to control my life, all because I’m a woman and you always wanted a goddamn son! Well too bad, Dad! Rob and I will work it out, and then I’ll hit the road with him on his motorcycle and never look back. And you know what? I’ll be his punk rock babe, just like he wants me. Piercings and eyeshadow and leather jacket and tattoos and everything. Ha! See what you think of your precious little modest daughter then!”

She stomped off, and Raymond was left momentarily bewildered, though not for the reasons his daughter perhaps thought. Her description of Rob’s dream girl had been exactly what Raymond had imagined himself after his shower two days earlier. Since then, his breasts had expanded to almost B-cups, and his body had become even more svelte and curvaceous, all while gaining a more petite shape overall. But always that image of a curvy punk rocker of a babe, covered in tats and piercings and makeup, servicing her boyfriend after he got off of his bike, had remained with him.

And now Tiffany had linked it even further to Rob in a way that was unshakeable.

“Hey Tiff! I thought maybe we could go for a ride. Have a talk. You know, sort some things out, babe.”

“Babe?” Raymond said. The parasite fuelled him with a cocktail of hormones, bringing him to a volatile, emotional, and jealous state. “Babe!? He doesn’t call me babe!”

The transforming man charged forward, slamming open the door before Rob could say another word. Tiffany spun round, aghast at her father’s entrance, but Raymond was undeterred. He needed to see the other man, and there he was, all windblown black hair and handsome good looks. Young and virile and manly in that bad boy way Raymond was finally understanding the appeal of.

“Rob!” he exclaimed, trying not to smile brightly. “I - how are you doing?”

Rob paused, looking the older man up and down. Tiffany was burning with blushing humiliating, and mouthing for her dad to get back inside. But for reasons that Raymond couldn’t understand, he needed to see Rob. Needed to be in his presence. Just the thought of it was making his nipples hard - an aroused response aided by the polymorph parasite within, which continued to push all his buttons and gear his mind towards becoming this other male’s mate.

“I’m doing well Ray,” Rob said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Um, everything okay with you? You look different.”

“Oh, you know how it is. Trying a different look. Thinking of going to some concerts.”

“Cool, I guess. I didn’t think you were the concert type.”

“Well, there’s that PunkCity festival in town. I used to enjoy that shit in my youth, and I’m feeling the urge to party hard again, you know what I’m saying?”

Tiff’s face was as red as a tomato by this point, glaring back at her father.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ she mouthed to him.

But again, he ignored her, looking to Rob to see what he had to say. The other man remained awkward, his normal unflappable exterior finally, well, flapped.

“Well, cool man. You do you. I’m just taking Tiff for a ride so we can chat about some stuff.”

“I’ll come along,” Ray said, shocked at his own words. “I think it’s time we all spent some time today.”

“Dad! What the fuck?”

“Fucking language, young missy!”

“Dad!”

But his gambit had failed, and Rob was just finding the whole situation obviously weird. He made some excuse, beckoned for Tiffany to go with him, and in that moment Raymond felt an intense envy towards his own daughter. It should have been him on that bike, but at the same time that was all wrong, wasn’t it? The thoughts swirled in his head, and he could only watch uselessly as Rob took off, the loud engine screaming as he broke the local speed laws. It infuriated Raymond to see, but it was also deeply sexy at the same time.

“No, it’s not!” he growled, voice cracking yet again. He marched inside, kicking over a chair in anger. What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way? He couldn’t understand it, nor why he hadn’t gone to the hospital or even booked a doctor’s appointment.

“I j-just want to go with them to keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything to my daughter.”

The thought of Rob doing something to Raymond was an entirely different matter, however. He could just imagine what it would be like to have Rob shirtless in his presence, holding him, caressing him, fucking him.

“Mhmmm,” he moaned, getting hard again. Raymond retreated to the bathroom, still puffed up on envy, confusion, anger, and a hundred other emotions pushed on him by the massive hormonal dumps. The parasite worked quick to nurture this chemical and mental dependence on this bad boy that he hated, and soon it was almost literally impossible to get Rob out of his mind, or to end the sexual thoughts.

“I need to look better for him,” Raymond grunted, unbelieving his words but finding release in them anyway. “I need to be his perfect punk babe. I need to be a bad girl.”

Raymond bit his fuller lip, and began to moan.

Another set of changes was upon him, and this time he was helpless but to welcome them. The polymorph parasite worked fast to draw upon this need and enhance it further, spiking his body with estrogen and spreading itself through his body until it was fully entangled across all his systems. While it couldn’t feel fear in the same way as you and I, it had been briefly concerned that it would fail to make a connection between its host and an appropriate future mate. The ‘Rob’ individual was perfect, after all, but the host hated him. And yet even as that dislike and distrust continued, it somehow only made the feelings of lust the host now had for Rob all the more overwhelming. The host ‘Raymond’ was well on his way to becoming a deeply attractive woman, and soon the transition would be impossible to deny. It pleased the parasite, who would feed off that sexual energy in perfect symbiosis with its host, keeping her happy and healthy and horny all of her life, and attractive beyond measure even in her older age.

Raymond had no idea of this though. The older conservative father was about to become anything but. He was about to become his own nightmare.

“Ohhhh,” he groaned as the changes started once more. “Why d-do I want this!?”

The parasite knew. It gave him what he wanted.

It began to make him a ‘bad girl.’

To Be Continued . . .