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Plot of the Retro Bimbo Aliens, Log Gamma

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Log Gamma

Okay, I think it's gone.  If you do see something there that looks like me getting deflated and turned into a dollish girl, I'd appreciate it if you would just pretend it's not there.

Phase 5 was next, right?  As before, there was a little announcement sign.  "Phase 5:  Primary Retroviral Transmogrification".  Like the first phase, this one was accompanied by a little digital readout.  Instead of showing weight, though, this one gave a percentage indicator, starting at 0%.  Used to seeing stuff coming from the top of the tube, I was a little surprised to see a single spray nozzle emerge from the lower right side of my view.  Almost snakelike, it coiled the space around my body, always at least a few inches away from touching me until it had gotten up to the top of my head.  With a pressurized hiss, a smoky gas emerged from the nozzle as it began to retract itself along the same path it had taken.  This was a much quicker progress than the coiling, and as the gas spread out along the path the tube had taken, it became an almost perfectly distributed cloud of particulates gently settling down on my skin.  Almost immediately, it began to tickle all over.

10%.

So, I don't know if you've ever been tickled and were completely unable to move during it.  It stops being funny really quick, and in my current state, I couldn't so much as twitch to try and ease the feeling.  In response to the frustration, my vision blurred a bit, but even through that, I could tell that something was happening to me.  All over my body, my skin was starting to turn gray.

35%.

The tickling sensation became even worse, turning itself into a burning itch.  I recalled one time when I was a child and I'd gotten up into the attic while both of my parents were outside.  Not knowing any better, I rolled around on top of the pink fiberglass insulation strips that the attic was covered in.  The rest of the day I'd spent in the bathtub nursing a full-body itch.  It wasn't fun then, and it wasn't fun this time either.  As it continued, though, it began to dull.  I never became less aware of it, but somehow I was able to manage it better.  Maybe I'd just finally gotten the burst of willpower I wanted before, but given my track record, it was pretty doubtful.  My vision cleared.  The soft reflection of light against my formerly human skin color gave way to harsher shine, almost as if my skin was turning into metal or plastic.

55%.

Something else was happening.  I was completely gray now, almost a silvery skin color complete with reflections that I could nearly make out the machinery in, but it wasn't done yet.  Where the restraints held me, I could feel my skin pushing back against the metal, no longer squishing in as much as it would otherwise.  What was once pressure I could feel along the armholds became a more singular point of contact, but as hard and thick as my skin was becoming it wasn't uncomfortable at all.  Something about the shape of my skin was changing too, as most was becoming more and more like thickened armor plating, a chitinous texture began to emerge.  between the plates, joints were forming, most visible at my neck, waist, hips, shoulders, knees, elbows and wrists, but still quite obviously there on my individual fingers and toes.  The skin around my breasts, crotch, and face remained relatively fleshy, but everywhere else I looked almost like a living suit of armor.  I tried to scream out my disapproval, but of course there was no way to do so externally.  

75%.

My eyes widened, not as a reflex of anything I had done but as part of the changes that were coming over me, and my breathing felt erratic for just a moment as my nose began to smooth down, becoming flatter and flatter until it was completely gone, the only hints that it ever existed being a pair of tiny breathing slits just above my mouth.  My lips had become almost completely black, but were otherwise practically unchanged by all this.  Inside my mouth, I could feel changes happening, my tongue warping and stretching into a longer, more pointed muscle and my teeth individually filing down into sharpened points.  I could hear an odd sloshing sound through it all, but couldn't pinpoint what it was until I realized that my ears were gone completely, replaced with a pair of membrane patches slightly lighter than the toughened skin around them.  So much for me being able to wiggle them.  My hands and feet both grew larger, plated with tough segmented armor, as the nails on both grew out to sharp black claws.  

95%.

As I tried to refocus my attention frantically to see if anything else would change, my attention was drawn again to my larger, rounder eyes.  From each pupil a splotch of red color began to crawl out, covering my irises with a web-like pattern that branched off more and more as each pupil itself began to swell larger.  The dark conditions of the ship began to lighten as my sensitivity to light began to change, and more and more I came to realize that what I saw as solid gray masses were actually painted in vivid colors.  By the time my eyes had completely transformed I could see the new spectrum that the ship had been designed for, and I'm not sure if it was less terrifying or more.  The various tubes, computers and even the walls were all done in soft, gentle pastels, with baby blue and pink accents made into happy little flower patterns that made the machines that were doing this to me look almost inviting.  I wondered if the aliens that were transforming me had any idea that it looked completely different to their victims.

100%.

There was a ding, and the screen receded, only to lower again with the next phase.  "Phase 6:  Synthetics Grafting".  This one was accompanied by three images.  First was a series of thin lines that had a slight wave to them, like grass or maybe seaweed.  The second one was a little harder to describe, a set of triangles overlapping each other, with the largest serving as the base and the others all curving inward slightly.  The third image was a pair of spade-like shapes with small circles in the middle of them.  

Then the tube opened.  Or rather, the force field that acted as the tube's glass shimmered and fizzled away.

I hoped like mad that it was finally over, or that it had malfunctioned somehow and maybe I could make a break for it, but that hope was short-lived.  With a slight hydraulic whirr, the bracket that was holding me in place pushed me out slightly, the screen showing the progress moved along with it.  I quickly realized that the rack moving wasn't the only noise, though.  From my left, there was a set of soft electric motor noises, little "vvvim" sounds that I couldn't place a source to until the first of them rolled into view.  

At first glance, I thought it was seaweed, or maybe one of those plek-nar'ka things upside down and weirdly colored, but on closer examination, it was strands of black, ribbonlike...well, stuff.  There must have been a hundred of them, each nearly four feet long, wriggling mostly straight up but occasionally darting off to a random side, like an inflatable arm-waver that they use to sell cars in dodgy neighborhoods.  They were all placed in a large rounded dish, held by a robot that was little more than a shaft with the plate on top, a pair of treads on the bottom, and a dozen triple-jointed pole arms with tiny gripping manipulators on the end.  In perfect synchronization, the arms each grabbed one of the slinky things, drew closer to me, and placed it on the top of my head.  Almost immediately as each one was placed, I felt a sharp sensation like a set of teeth had latched on, then they began to burrow in.  With a feeling that was appropriately accompanied by an involuntary shiver each time, I could feel each one send out a strand that raced along the back of my head then curl up into my spine.  The instant they made this connection, they halted their flailing, draping down over my head.  In under a minute, they had all been placed onto my head and latched in.  Enough had covered my eyes that I could barely see that the first light had become lit up.  I was only entirely sure of it after a pair of the small grappling arms did the courtesy of brushing my new "hair" back behind my shoulders.

Having finished its task, the arms of the robot all pulled in, the grasping pincers angled up slightly as if to imply that it was proud of the job it had done.  Smoothly, it scooted out of the way to let the next machine take its turn at bat.  This one was a little more rugged than its brother, with thicker treads and a stronger platform that was the temporary home of the next part that was to be attached to me.  I could immediately tell what it was, as it was a bit more obvious than its picture let on.  About six feet long, it was a thick, segmented tail, made of the same chitinous armor that my skin was now mostly covered with.  With a single, much more massive arm tipped with a constricting ring, the machine slid around the base of the tail, grabbed it, then swung it around my backside.  A forceful shove just above my ass let me know that it was trying to do its job, and that it was much less subtle than the one that had preceded it.  For a moment, it simply felt like I was leaning against the tail, but that feeling quickly subsided when a hundred lashing spikes dug painfully into my back.  Spinning through my body and intertwining with the already existent muscles, I felt as whatever the tail's equivalent was of cartilage grasped my tailbone, wrenching it into a new position with a cracking noise.  I felt the pain immediately, but as muscles and bone took their new positions and regenerated what they had torn on their way in, the feeling quickly subsided.  It became a weight that I couldn't ignore, only relieving itself when the arm let the rest of the tail loose, allowing it to rest against the floor.  I was trying to hard to process the new addition to my body that I barely noticed that the robot that stuck it on me was already trundling away and that there was only a single light that was remaining unlit.

The final of the three treaded robots looked quite a bit similar to the second, with thick treads and a sturdy base.  This one, however, had two arms, each slightly smaller than the one that had put my tail on.  Also, it's really weird to say that I have a tail.  Just getting that out there.  Still not used to it.  Its cargo was a pair of items curled slightly around each other, but even in their space-saving positions I could easily tell what they were.  They were tentacles.  At least, that's what they look like to me.  And I assume what they feel like, though I've never really been in a position to ask a squid what its tentacles feel like.  They were silver, with the inner parts colored like the fleshier parts of my skin and what I guess is the top side colored to match the armored pieces of me, with white suckers lining the bottom side.  Longer even than my tail, they flared towards the end, and as the arms reached to grab them, one of them must have touched a nerve inside one of the tentacles and it spasmed hard, knocking into the other robot arm and sending it spinning.  That wasn't enough to deter the robot, though, and with a quick readjustment it had grabbed both tentacles and was installing them just below my shoulderblades.  Much like the tail, they dug in, attaching themselves to my spinal cord and making neighbors with the muscles in my back, who they found to be exactly as accommodating as they needed.  I could feel the gentle breeze of the ship's air recirculating against the new tentacles, and I wondered exactly how I was supposed to make them work, but for the moment they just hung limply off my back, the bottom part slapped against the floor.  The last robot zoomed off to my right as the last of the three lights went active and the machine dinged.

As I expected, the sign flipped up, but it didn't immediately flip back down.  At first, I figured the delay was due to the increased distance it had to travel, but after a few more seconds of nothing happening, I began to wonder if it was maybe over.  Almost perfectly timed with the peak of my curiosity, I heard a crunchy grinding noise which was accompanied by a loud electronic squeal and, moments later, the smell of crispy electronic parts.  From somewhere behind me in the tube, a red light began to flash, and from the video feed I can tell that it says "Error" in the Gynarian language.  The flashing was soon joined by a wailing beep, but after a few repeats, along with some other fizzling noises, it ceased, and another machine inside began to hum.  With more fizzling, wires were unplugged and replugged, and parts were rapidly repaired.  Finally, the screen appeared in front of me again.  It read "Phase 8:  Vesture Calibration and Cutting".  I had no idea what that meant, and the single tiny arm with a glowing red tip that emerged didn't exactly fill me with confidence that it was something good.  In my terror-stricken brain, though, I had one useful thought.  "What happened to phase 7?"  

The arm darted around my body, shining its tiny red light over my hips, my waist, my bust, my tail, and my tentacles.  Also, I just remembered that saying I have tentacles is way weirder to me than saying I have a tail.  Anyways, I was fully expecting that alarm to mean that I wasn't a worthy specimen or something and that the laser was going to vivisect me.  Didn't happen.  Instead, another little robot emerged from the left, this one barely more than a cross-shaped pair of sticks on wheels, carrying an outfit.  Apparently the laser was measuring me.

At first glance, the outfit looked like something that an airline in the 60s would have designed for their stewardesses to wear to make their planes look like they were going to take people to the moon.  It was a skirted bodysuit, mostly shiny gold with a black stripe running across the left breast, and silver trimming around the sleeves and skirt.  It was completely sleeveless, with a hole cut out of the chest to show an ample amount of cleavage and a tightness to the skirt that made it look like it might be hard to walk in.  This effect was compounded by the small size of it.  I wasn't sure at the time exactly how stretchy it was, but it looked as though it were made for someone half my height and proportions, laser's judgement be damned.  It was accompanied by a pair of shiny gold latex gloves with silver trimmings, matching high-heeled platform boots that went up to mid-thigh level, and a small hat that served to complete the ensemble.  The bell dinged yet again and the screen pulled away, this time having no delay between it leaving and it returning with another message.  "Phase 9:  Muscle Control Restoration."

The ceiling opened up with a hole nearly a foot in diameter, and from it poured a familiar light.  It looked exactly like the abduction beam's light, though its function was apparently the exact opposite.  As the light poured over my body, I twitched frantically, my brain finally able to control my muscles.  With a unified set of clicking noises, the restraints released themselves, and I finally had regained my ability to move.

I collapsed into a heap on the floor.

I'm not going to pretend that falling over was what I'd meant to do, and I'm not going to blame it on the new boobs, either.  The tail and tentacles did more than enough to counterbalance them.  In my defense, though, it seemed like the most obvious choice at the time, and for the moment, I'd kind of forgotten exactly how the whole controlling my body thing worked.  It was coming back to me, though, and I reached with both arms to push myself into a more dignified sitting position.  I did, with remarkable strength.  I also realized that I was still pushing, even after my arms had left the floor.  My tentacles had placed themselves alongside my arms and were assisting in my recovery.  Making sure that it was me that decided that that had happened, I concentrated on moving a single tentacle, my left tentacle, in front of my face.  It complied, waving as if to greet me just as I considered doing that.  Folding my arms under my chest, I tried something a bit more difficult, planting both tentacles back on the floor and pushing myself up with them.  For a few seconds, I was balanced on my tail and the pair of tentacles, but after a little bit I felt it starting to strain and let my feet touch the floor.  As I looked around, trying out more mental commands for the new limbs, I heard speakers nearby crackle to life.

"Congratulations, commander, on your successful conversion!"
Plot of the Retro Bimbo Aliens, Log Beta
Log Beta
Okay, so I kinda had to deal with someone there.  I'll include it in a future log, but I'm not really caught up yet so I need to get back to where I was in the first place.
Oh, thanks for that.  The computer has realized that my brain is attempting to recall the events in question and, since it's so obnoxiously helpful, has pulled up the ship's recording of the procedure to make sure I get everything right.
Do I really look that dorky when I'm paralyzed by abduction beams?  If I'd had the chance to do it over again, that slack-jawed gape is not what I'd have picked to plaster on my face at the last second.
Anyways, the viewscreen of Molly had scrolled out of sight, but the weird-ass theming was still present.  A sign had dropped in front of my eyes.  In neon orange text, it read "Phase 1:  Mass Reduction".  Under the larger text was a smaller green digital readout, with the digits on it reading "249.211".  Knowing what I know now, that w
       Plot of the Retro Bimbo Aliens, Log Delta
Log Delta
Okay, I didn't know that was a thing.  I knew I could stop the mental transcription this thing does by thinking about the ending, but it sort of cut me off there because it was unclear about exactly what I was trying to think about.  It was pretty confusing, I guess, trying to get into that outfit when I wasn't exactly sure where all of the holes were meant to go on my body, but I'd also sort of gotten ahead of myself and--
Still Log Delta
It did it again.  I really have to get used to how this thing decides that I'm getting too confused, but in any case, I'll try and get right to the important stuff.  Not that any of what happened is any less than of monumental importance to me, but I have to get to the parts that'll help anyone reading this make sense of it or help to stop the eventual invasion without the computer stopping the recording again.
So we'll just start with me having gotten the outfit on.  To be honest, it's not at all uncomfortable.

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Already up to the third chapter!  I've got one more to post up soon, then it will slow down a bit!
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Masao114's avatar
What was "phase 7" supposed to be?