Snake Boy, Part 1

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Summary: Zach is transformed into a snake from the hips down. Contains: Male: pregnancy, belly expansion, breast expansion, transformation, and more.

-

“How was your day, Zach?” said Dr. Wilson as he seated himself at the head of the dining room table. He primly flapped his napkin and placed it on his thighs.

Seated at the opposite end of the table, Zach squirmed somewhat. But then, he always seemed to be squirming. “It was okay,” he offered. “I had a video call with Taylor.”

“That’s excellent, Zach,” said Wilson, but he sounded completely indifferent, and didn’t even shift his attention from his meal. Lifting his knife and fork, he began to cut into his pork chop.

Zach began to eat as well, though mostly just shuffled food around in his plate. His tail continued to squirm under the table, scales rubbing into the sealed wood in a way that felt sort of nice.

Zach was part snake. Half-snake? Well, Zach was a snake from the waist down, just below his navel. It was a fairly new development for Zach. He was about six months in. Sometimes he still didn’t believe what he had become, and found himself poking or prodding at his sinuous lower half, flinching at the elevated experience of sensation, nerves shuddering in pleasure, discomfort, and overall confusion over what had become of his body.

Seven months earlier, Zach had been sick in the hospital. Illness and infection had left his bones decaying. He had been on the cusp of death when government agents swooped in for a bedside meeting. It had been like something out of a movie. They requested that Zach participate in an experimental treatment program that could possibly prolong his life. The risks were substantial, and his life would “never be anywhere close to resembling normal.” If he survived the treatments, he would be forfeiting his freedom to a certain extent. The government could keep him hidden away if they so chose.

And they so chose.

It was a high price but an invaluable reward. Zach didn’t have anything to lose anyway. He signed the contracts.

Now, Zach lived with Dr.Wilson, in a large, beautiful, and extremely isolated house. Dr. Wilson came and went, but the house seemed to be his main residence. Other scientists often came by to observe, examine, or talk to Zach, but Dr. Wilson continued to be his primary guardian. They wanted Zach to have the consistence of one individual, possibly someone he could build trust with.

It was odd for Zach to think of Wilson as a guardian. The man wasn’t much older than Zach was—a decade his senior, at best.

It was also weird to think that so many measures were being taken to ensure “consistency.” Like Zach was a wild animal that might go off at any moment. “We still don’t know how this is all affecting your brain chemistry,” Wilson admitted one evening. “Even you must see that you’re continuing to experience changes.”

It was true. Zach’s tail was still progressively getting longer. When he had first awoken, it had only been the length that his legs had been. Now it was an impressive seven feet. His canines were sharper, and seemed to be lengthening as well. Sometimes when he looked in the mirror, he thought his eyes had changed, but he couldn’t be too sure.

Zach’s program was top-secret in nature. Even he didn’t know much about the extent of it—if there were others like him, being kept in isolation from the rest of the world. He’d wonder if there were people who had successfully been turned into half-snakes like he was, or if there were people who had been changed in different ways. He wanted to measure whether his case was a lucky one or not, depending on other people’s outcomes. When Zach inquired about it with Wilson, the scientist blatantly refused to answer and immediately ended the conversation. Though it was annoying at times, Zach appreciated Wilson’s directness. He wasn’t the type to beat around the bush or cater to other people’s insecurities.

“You’re not hungry?”

Zach looked up to see that Wilson was watching him—scrutinizing, really.

Zach looked back down at his plate, where his food had been shuffled around into an unappealing mound of a mixture. “I guess not,” he muttered, even though his stomach ached in disagreement. There was something just so very unappealing about the perfectly cooked chunks of pork chop with rice and vegetables mixed around it. “I think I’ll get back to my book,” said Zach, lowering his fork. He got up easily, now so accustomed to balancing on his tail that he didn’t have to think about it. He slithered off smooth and easy, tail trailing after him as he turned out of the dining room. Zach got to his bedroom on the other side of the house, but instead of resuming his book on quantum entanglement, he just ended up playing video games all night, his tail squirming and twitching as he rapidly pressed keys on the controller.

Zach was actually rather content with his new life. The first few weeks with the tail had been horrifying and traumatic as he was forced through physical therapy and struggling with the seemingly impossible task of learning to stand. Now Zach occupied his time with studying, video games, exercise, reading, and writing. He was now even allowed to have video calls with an online friend he’d made named Taylor. Zach wasn’t allowed to reveal himself from the waist down, and all the interactions were monitored and recorded.

His family thought he was dead. It was too painful to think about, most days. Yet it was probably for the best. He had doubts that they could ever come to terms with the anomaly he had become.

“Damn,” Zach muttered as his avatar died. He lowered the remote and pulled off his shirt. He had put it on for dinner, but he typically went topless outside of meals. He wasn’t sure why, but it probably had something to do with his changed anatomy and cooler blood.

Zach looked down at his ribs, absently trailing it with his fingers. He knew he had lost weight. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t compel himself to eat most days. He wondered if the experiment was failing, and he was wasting away. He knew by then that life wasn’t guaranteed. He had lived seven long months longer than he was supposed to have, and he found that he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. He was just accepting of things.

-

“You’re still losing weight,” said Dr. Carter grimly during Zach’s next exam.

Zach shrugged. “I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

“This is becoming dangerous, Zachary.”

Her mournful tone unnerved him a little. “I’m sorry.” And Zach meant it. “I’ll—try harder.”

They took his measurements. As usual, his snake-side was inches longer than it had been the month before, and Zach was sort of pleased by that. Despite his lack of eating, he was continuing to grow. And he kind of liked his strange, sinuous limb. Despite the abnormality, there were certainly benefits to it. He could be amazingly fast now, crossing the distance of a room in the faction of a second. He could be tall as well, raising himself as high as the tail allowed, towering above others.

But he couldn’t seem to eat.

At lunch that day, Zach did his best to force food down, but it quickly got to the point that every bite left him retching somewhat. If Dr. Wilson noticed, he not bring attention to it, except by saying, “I have a theory on why you’re having difficulty with food. I am going to conduct a small experiment to verify it.” With that, Wilson continued to cut, actually cut into his tuna sandwich with a knife and fork. It was Zach’s day to prepare lunch, and he hadn’t been feeling particularly ambitious.

Zach waited for Wilson to continue, but after several moments, it became clear that he had no intention of doing so.

“What type of experiment?” said Zach, growing mildly annoyed, though Wilson’s behavior wasn’t anything new. The man was formal and professional to the point of being robotic. Zach lowered his nibbled-on sandwich.

“Actually, it would be best if I did not inform you about the specifics,” said Wilson.

Zach sighed. “Whatever,” he said, his interest having hardly materialized in the first place.

Sometimes Zach craved for more human interaction, and for better company than Wilson. But he tried to suppress those thoughts down. He should have just been grateful to be alive.

Zach resumed his reading, his studies, and his games, trying his best to snack on small crackers for the duration, but hardly even touching them. That evening he went to the kitchen to get some water, when a fresh basket of hen eggs sitting on the counter gave him pause. Wilson wasn’t a fan of eggs so he didn’t ordinarily purchase them. Zach was pretty indifferent and didn’t press for them to be part of his diet. He honestly didn’t care one way or another. But for some reason, Zach found himself staring at the eggs in the basket, sort of entranced by them. He didn’t know how long he was gazing at them before he heard Wilson say:

“Zach?”

Zach snapped out of his reverie. Lightly shaking his head, he met Wilson’s eyes. “Just getting some water,” he muttered, going into the fridge and retrieving a reusable biodegradable bottle of said liquid.

Zach returned to his room, and as he sat down at his desk and looked out the window, he noticed a large amount of birds outside, digging into the grass, as though there was food there. It hadn’t rained recently, so Zach was certain they weren’t feeding on worms. Wilson typically disliked animals, but who else could have left food for the birds? Zach frowned as he watched them. Some even perched themselves on his windowsill, at which point Zach realized that a birdfeeder had been attached there. It was new, odd, and strangely thrilling, simple as it was. As with his eggs, he found himself giving it rapt attention. He licked his lips, and his stomach grumbled for the first time in a while.

As the days passed, more odd things occurred. When Zach saw a mouse skittering about his bedroom floor late one night, he felt strangely devoid of any apprehension. All the same, he reported it to Wilson early the next morning.

“That is unfortunate,” Wilson said as he took Zach’s morning vitals. “It may be an isolated incident. Please let me know if it continues to be a problem.”

“It’s not a problem. Just an observation,” said Zach.

But perhaps it was a problem. As with the eggs and the birds, Zach found himself fixated and preoccupied. That day his eyes kept darting to the edges of the room for another sighting of the small white mouse that had been wandering about on his carpet the night before. He didn’t understand his agitation and wondered if it was the snake part of him that was reacting.

The rodents didn’t make sense. The property was so surveilled and secure that a fly couldn’t get in or out without notice. Something very intentional appeared to be underway. Zach supposed he would find out what it was when he was meant to.

Certain parts of the house were less like an impersonal residence than a blatant medical facility. Wilson’s study, to Zach, was like a small lab. Wilson spent many of his days hidden away within it, the door shut and locked. But as Zach passed it that afternoon, he noticed that the door stood ajar. Zach usually only went to the lab for appointments and meetings with Wilson, but something about the door being carelessly left open seemed very inviting, and Zach willfully went to it. Perhaps it was the loneliness. There was a soft chirping as he pushed the door fully open.

Wilson looked up from a table where he had been hunched over a microscope. “Zach,” he greeted.

Zach slithered inside. He trailed towards the large bird cage in the corner,which had never been there before. On a perch stood three small white birds. They were beautiful. Briefly, Zach thought they were doves, but there was something very disinteresting about identifying them so much as just experiencing. “Birds,” Zach deadpanned.

“I’ve developed a fascination for them.”

“Are you using them for experiments?”

“Perhaps.”

Zach’s fingers twitched.

“Do you want to hold one?” said Wilson.

Zach longed to, but he backed away, suddenly fearful of the primal need stirring within him. “No.” He left, and in bed that night he shifted and groaned, the hunger worsening.