The Symbiote War, Prologue

My name is Dane Jackson. I am a college student, and these are my memoirs of the past few months. They have drawn out until they feel like years to my memory. You might think that I am writing this because I'm trying to organize my thoughts at the end of my horrifying ordeal, but you'd be wrong. I may not be guilty for all of what has come to pass. If I were more self-pitying, I would call myself a victim of circumstance. Or you could say that I should have done something to end all this, even made the ultimate sacrifice, and that I was too weak to take matters into my own hands. Regardless of the truth, my trial never ends.

For over half a year I lived with my roommate, Phil. He was the worst roommate I ever had even before the trouble started. Then, he began to grow. He was joined with a creature known only to me as a symbiote--perhaps a government creation, perhaps an alien lifeform--that enabled him to live his wildest dreams. The symbiote used his desires to allow itself to reproduce, and gave him what he wanted: control over me, and over all the people who had ignored him. In a matter of weeks, Phil went from short, underactive misfit to tall, muscular maniac. His semen allowed him to shrink me, to bring me to manageable size. It changed me somehow, and my own cum was used to make Phil and others make extraordinary leaps beyond their genetic potential in size, strength, and physical attractiveness.

I accidentally met Liam McTague while Phil's friend Jason was harassing me for yet more size. Liam proved to be a valuable ally, for he, too, had a symbiote. Through Liam, I discovered that Phil's symbiote had been twisted since its creation. Liam's, it seemed, was a benevolent creature, or at least one less willing to prey upon its host's basest instincts. Through Liam's aid and the help of a good friend, Christian, I was able to resist Phil for a time. Liam provided me with a drug that ultimately destroyed Phil's symbiote and returned me--somehow--to my initial state, although this victory came too late.

It was in Liam's final note to me that I learned that symbiotes were more common than I had initially suspected, and that he had tried to spare me. The cost of this inaction was immeasurable: now the symbiotes spawned by my former roommate have spread.

I look at everyone on the street, hoping for a sign, or for a glimmer of that strange connection that Phil and I began to experience toward the end of things. Something that will tell me I've finally found them, and my new work can begin. I haven't experienced anything that I could consider progress since I brought Jason Keane back to normal size--or close to it; I might have left him a little smaller than before. Say three or four inches.

They're out there. I know it. But I can't help feeling that I'm wasting my time thus far. And I can't afford to lose much more.

Already, I've been robbed of so much. I lost the life of Dane Jackson, average student and excellent athlete, man confirmed in his sexuality and the very simplicity of his life. I lost a man who loved me despite my confusion over the changes in my life. I've lost my very sense of self. None of these losses really matter, though, if the symbiotes win this war.

There, I've said it.

No paper will ever cover it, no reporter will venture to theorize about its outcome. No mothers will plead for their sons to come home, because the world will never know... but make no mistake, we are at war.