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It wasn’t even a few hours ago before the small bat had accepted the invitation from Darkwitt to attend the event of a lifetime, and now they were smack dab in the unfamiliar landscape. He was rather quickly able to summarize that he was in an area referred to as “The Focault,” mostly due to the rather large hologram which floated just in front of his eyesight, welcoming them to the area.\n\nOnce the welcome message cleared away, his eyes glanced around him with rapid-fire precision, taking in the fullness of the region around him and attempting to make sense of all the sights. Dozens of neon-toned skyscrapers cluttered the skyline, with circuit-board traces running up the outer walls and various neon billboards attached to every vantage point. Looking down towards the ground Laurel saw a very similar aesthetic, with neon lights running down the sidewalks and lining the jet-black roads. Nothing about this area felt natural to Laurel’s senses, he was a bat out of his cave and they knew it.\n\nLaurel was so engrossed with taking in the far sights however, they made the critical mistake of ignoring the sights right next to him. He was quick to realize his critical mistake the second they started hurling toward the ground, after colliding with the large Doberman who was walking straight into the path that he had backed up into. “OOF,” they screeched out as his butt smacked the hard concrete, his flailed-up arm quickly snatched by the Doberman, bringing Laurel back up to their feet.\n\nThe Doberman stood large over Laurel, bearing a torn, spiked leather jacket, and leather pants with a bulge that didn’t leave much up to the imagination. Thick leather boots and gloves covered their paws, with a couple of leather bands across their bicep that strained to contain the muscle they held. The Doberman looked like an absolute punk of a beast, much more brutal-looking than the Hawaiian shirt and khakis that Laurel wore. The one thing that truly took Laurel's attention though, was the large, jagged-sharp shades that crossed the Doberman's eyes. He couldn’t help but feel weak from the cold stare coming from the shades, wanting to avert his gaze from them but almost feeling compelled to stare them down.\n\n“The fuck you starin’ at?” snapped Laurel back to reality, emitting a light screech from his shock. The Doberman eye’d Laurel down, examining them over, who could only stare down at the ground while anxiously attempting to come up with a response that wouldn’t get him punched in the face. He felt his heart sink the second the Doberman placed their large paw on the back of their neck, prepping himself for the blow which was about to come. Instead, to Laurel’s much-surprised relief, the Doberman tilted his head up and pointed it towards a bar across the river, the ‘BPM’. “Relax, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Yer new here, yeah? That’s the place you want to be. Grab a drink, chill out, and watch where yer fuckin walkin.”\nThe Doberman let go of Laurel's neck and walked on their way, a powerful ‘thud’ which each stomp the boots made. Laurel breathed heavily, their heart pounding as powerfully as the boots made a ‘thud’, racing from the nightmare situation they had just averted. But it was over now, the Doberman was walking away, and Laurel could breathe again. He looked over across the river again to where the Doberman had pointed them. “The bar probably wouldn’t be a bad start,” he thought to himself, “there’s got to be someone there I might recognize.”\n\nLaurel turned and started walking down the street that the Doberman had directed them towards. They passed several stores, most notably an arcade called ‘Grid Games Arcade’, [i]absent-mindedly thinking to himself “I should do a live-stream there”[/i] before they saw the bridge the dog had mentioned just in front of them. He made his way onto and across the bridge, his fears quickly calmed once they stepped foot on the other side, seeing ‘BPM’ displayed over a building a bit in front of them to the left. “YES!” he cheered out loud, pumping his arms in the air. Not a second later, he quickly lower his arms, closing them around themselves in a hurried moment of anxious security and looking around to make sure nobody was looking. He lowered their head shyly and hurried right over to the building and stepped inside.\n\nStepping inside, Laurel found the bar itself to be a lavish place, a place the high-end elites would typically call home. A luscious ruby-red gloss highlighted the walls of the establishment bearing stripes of cyan neon to accent the elegance of the room. The bar counter itself was made out of stunning black marble, pin-striped with gold in stunning detail. Row upon row of the finest liquors displayed on crystal shelves dancing and shimmering with the reflection of the liquid pleasures above. Even the barstools were made of elegance, plush ruby-red seats attached to the bar with a low bar to create the appearance they were hovering off the ground. Laurel couldn’t believe their eyes; he was positive there’d be no way he could afford anything at a location like this. That was until his nose picked up quite the smell from the rest of the place.\n\nHis nose scrunched up lighting fast in protest of the aroma that hit him. All he could smell was the rank stank of the place, an overpowering aroma of leather, beer, and cum hurriedly wafted into his nose and overwhelmed every single scent receptor inside. He turned his eyes from the masterfully built bar that had been in front of him, and his eyes went wide. Unlike the immaculately kept bar, the rest of the room was in complete disarray. Cheap black paint lined the walls of the dance pit, a literal pit poorly dug up with basic shovels for the patrons to dance in. A poorly hand-made wooden stage in the corner bore instruments and speakers that looked like they were the leftover goods of Woodstock ’99. In the other corner lay the couches of roadsides left behind, full of cigarette burns and stains made from enough substances that he prayed was only just cum. “What maniac could own this kind of place?” Laurel thought to themselves.\n\n“Fuckin move, nerd!” \n\nThe voice of a punk behind him snapped Laurel back to reality faster than whiplash on a rollercoaster. He was shoved to the side by a large skunk lined with a purple stripe who wasn’t letting anyone get between him and his next drink. Laurel had gotten so wrapped up in the entire chaotic dissonance of the place that for a second he completely forgot what he was even here to do in the first place. His eyes leveled with the crowd around him, a collection of people wearing an assortment of clothes and gear that Laurel could only best describe as ‘Punk’. A sea of tight leather straps and chaps sprinkled with hints of denim filled the ocean of people in Laurel's eyes. If he was to find any of his friends here, he realized the chances were going to be quite slim.\n\nHe began to survey the various people in the room. Over by the emergency exit, he found a well-built black and green panther sporting a Brando leather jacket leaning back against the wall puffing on the thickest cigar Laurel had ever seen, smoke floating up past the jagged green shades over his eyes. Next to him at the collection of beaten-up chairs with three legs, he found a small chocolate rabbit featuring an impressively large mohawk enjoying a beer with his three friends, similarly all wearing the same shades the panther wore in various other colors. A purple drake stood in the corner, muscles giving the leather that held them a run for their money, silently staring at Laurel with an intense red that burned past his crimson shades. Leaning up against a pillar was a grey wolf who was exhibiting a rather intimate moment with his friend, kneeling on the ground with the manhood of the wolf deep in their mouth. Laurel was curious to note that even though both of them had the same shades on as everyone else, the wolf still had an eyepatch over his left eye. \n\nPlaying a game of pool in the corner opposite the stage was a black and grey orca with spirals tattooed on his wrists and tail facing off in a heated match against a rather calm-looking skunk clad in blue leather, with blue shades to match. A green alien in a black rubber jumpsuit was busy grinding his paws on the bulge of a boar near the bathrooms, lost in each other's eyes behind the shades on their face. Closer to him near the bar sat a black and red naga with a rather unique feature, a set of boombox speakers interlaced within his hood. A friend of his curled up in his coil with a blissful look on their face. And as Laurel came to expect at this point, had the same sharp shades that covered their eyes in solid black. Behind the naga’s shades, his eyebrow raised, curiously examining the bat like a long-lost memory.\n\n“Well what do we have here?” huffed the deep, but familiar voice behind Laurel. He quickly spun around to put a face to the speaker and was happily surprised to see that it was none other than his good friend, Jack! But his joy turned sour fast when he looked their friend over. Usually, Jack would be found clad in what was about to become the latest fashion trend; gold, and black, and always a step ahead of popular culture when it came to looks. But this was not one of those times, to Laurel's shock, Jack was dressed similarly as grungy as the rest of the crowd, somehow still managing to pull off the best-dressed look out of the well-worn clothes he had. And like all of the rest, to go with his newfound look, Jack sported the same shades as everyone else in the room, in magnificent gold.\n\n“Jack!? It’s good to see you!” Laurel exclaimed, relieved to have found a friend in the mess of people. “What’s going on here? Why are you dressed like that? What the heck is it with those shades!?” they asked with rapid-fire speed.\n\n“We’re fuckin here for a fuckin party, dude,” Jack rather coldly responded, his demeaning being anything other than friendly. “And why the fuck don’t you have any fuckin shades on dude? Get with the fuckin program!” grabbing Laurel by the shirt and shoving him out of the way as he made his way towards the bar.\n“Woah, hey, Jack, what’s up?” inquired a very concerned Laurel as they chased after their friend. “Why the heck are you acting like this?”\n\nJack said nothing in response as he reached behind the marble counter, pulling out a pair of dark purple shades. He turned to Laurel and tossed the shades right at Laurel's face, ricocheting off and clattering to the floor. “Fuckin put these on,” he commanded.\n\nLaurel was taken aback, his friend had never acted like this before. Jack was always friendly with Laurel, an absolute kitten of a friend. But this wasn’t Jack anymore, this was someone who didn’t give a care about the world or people around him anymore, and Laurel was starting to feel like the shades by his shoes might have more of a play in this than a simple fashion statement.\n\nHe knelt to pick them up, looking over the shades in his hand with scrutiny, but to the naked eye, they just looked like edgy shades, easy to see through one side and solid purple on the other. Nothing unusual appeared about these shades, but Laurel started to find that he couldn’t take his eyes off them, some magnetic power within them was drawing him to pull them closer to his head.\n“Just like that,” his friend purred out, enough to snap Laurel out of his senses and drop the shades back down towards the ground.\n\n“Take off the shades, Jack, there’s something wrong with them!” Laurel screeched out, his voice echoing around the entire bar. He gulped quickly, realizing the attention he brought to himself, his eyes quickly darting around the room as he felt his heart sink. Every eye was now held directly on him, every person in the bar staring their shades directly at Laurel and through his whole body.\n\n“Wrong fuckin response, bro,” growled out Jack, his face dead serious and adopting a posture ready to pounce. Laurel backed up fast, attempting to put as much space between himself and the hungry lion as he looked for a way out of this nightmare he found himself in. But he found that the more he backed up, the closer everyone else in the room was getting to him. When his back hit the cold wall, his heart sank. He was trapped, cornered! His eyes darted around the room in a panic past the slowly approaching mob. He might be able to get out of the emergency exit if he was just nimble enough to dodge past the panther. The main entry looked like a possible means of escape, but he’d have to deal with that red and black naga by the entrance.\n\nUnfortunately for Laurel, he was so engrossed in looking for a place to exit that he made the critical mistake of not looking where there wasn’t an exit. From the direction of the stage, a paw grabbed his shoulder and pressed it up against the wall. Before Laurel had time to react another paw from the direction of the bathroom slammed against his other shoulder, fully pinning him in place. The two figures stood in place as Laurel wrestled to free himself but try as he might he could not get them to budge. It was as if the two brutes had just frozen in place as statues. The only thing that seemed to have any life to them was the cold stare of their shades that felt like they were sucking the will to fight straight out of him.\n“Welcome to the club,” he heard his friend say. Laurel turned his head to see his friend, but instead, Laurel was met with the purple warmth of the shades, carefully placed over his eyes by Jack. The second the shades went on, Laurel's two attackers released their grip on him, his knees going weak as he crumpled to the floor.\n\nWithin seconds he felt a blast of power emit out of the shades and course through his body, surging with reckless abandon over his entire being. Every nerve in his body fired off with a chaotic fury that sent his senses into overdrive. His brain felt like it was a computer that was overclocked too much, emotion and thought all blending faster than he could even comprehend. His eyes slammed shut at the overload as he fought new feelings and desires worming their way into his ears through the shades. He wasn’t feeling like himself, but he didn’t hate how he felt. He was starting to like it. He felt good, real good. Real fuckin good. “What the fuck was I so worried about,” he thought to himself. “I’m fuckin here to have a good time and,” speaking out loud, “I’M GONNA HAVE A FUCKIN GOOD TIME”.\n\n“Fuck yeah!” cheered a voice in the crowd. “Grab this bat a beer!” came another voice from the crowd. The orca in the back roared out a loud “Bwee!” in celebration with the rest. While the room was in cheer welcoming the newest club member, the lion, Jack, threw his arm around Laurel's shoulder and pulled him in close to his chest. “Let’s get ya in some better gear, bro. This shit ain’t gonna do. Gotta make sure you stick to the club dress code.”\n\nLaurel couldn’t agree more, they couldn’t figure out just what the hell they were thinking with this floral shit they had on. He broke off from the lion and tore off their shirt with such aggressive disdain that one would think it insulted his own mother, their khaki pants kicked off with several loud stomps to the ground. He didn’t give shit with how naked he was in front of everyone now, hell he looked more like a club member now than he did wearing those clothes. Jack stood back watching it all play out in front of him while roaring out with laughter with the rest of the gang, many of them hungrily staring with lustful intent behind their dark shades. They made their way toward the other side of the room while Laurel pounded down the beer handed to him by the rabbit he saw earlier.\nFrom the entryway, the red and black naga watched on intently.\n\n[i]“Laurel.”[/i]\nThe gang tore through the lost and found bin in the backroom, finding a tattered leather jacket full of spikes that fit Laurel snugly around the shoulders, leaving the zipper undone to let his pecs go on display. The only pants that were in the bin were clearly one size too small for the bat and were even missing the crotch which someone had torn off in a desperate attempt to get the prize inside. Unlike the pants, the boots they found were one size too large and smelled rank of sweat and cum. By themselves, Laurel would’ve felt he looked absolutely ridiculous in the getup. But with the shades, Laurel felt the look was perfect. He felt badass, tough, and ready to beat down any fucker who got in the way of his fun.\n\n[i]“This isn’t you, Laurel.”[/i]\n\nLaurel and his new friends stomped their way back out into the main bar, hooting and hollering with rambunctious abandon. Several of them broke back off to their previous arrangements, to the pool tables, and poker hands put on pause. A few of them made their way off to the side, all hands on deck as they felt up each other’s bodies in lustful anticipation of what was to come for them. Laurel, Jack, and the silent drake from earlier all made their way up towards the bar to grab themselves a drink.\n\n[i]“Fight it.”[/i]\n\nJack turned to Laurel and asked him what he wanted to drink. Laurel stood there frozen, his mind briefly feeling like a wave of dizziness had washed over him. “Orange Juice,” he mumbled. Jack turned to Laurel with a growl, gripping his shoulder so tightly a claw had dug its way into Laurel's skin. The sharp pain snapped Laurel back to reality, “Get me a fuckin Whiskey,” he growled back to Jack. Jack's intense, stern look quickly relaxed at his friend's correction. He hadn’t ever seen someone change their mind like that after joining the club, but he was so lost in the beer he was downing that he didn’t give it a second thought. The red and black naga by the entryway did though, shifting himself up from the pet he had coiled around, curious about the moment that he saw take place before him.\n[i]“Wake up, Sonic Screamer.”[/i]\n\nThe ice clinked in the whiskey glass as Laurel brought it up to his lips, ready to down the sweet nectar of the gods, but before he was able to tilt the glass, he froze. His body began to tremble, shaking with a light vigor while his glass slipped out of his hand and went crashing to the ground. His hands flew up and clutched his head, fighting the powerfully pounding headache that had seized over him. He knew that voice, he knew deep down it was telling him the truth, but he couldn’t recall who it was.\n\nJack wasn’t liking what he was seeing, not one bit. Here he was trying to show his friend a good time and the little shit had the nerve to resist? “Bro ya gotta stop sweatin the small shit, you’re with the club now,” he growled at Laurel, his meaty paw gripping the back of the bat’s head, desperately trying to make their shades lock. But Laurel fought, slipping out of Jack's grasp with a quick jerk away. It would’ve been cool if he had meant to do that, but the overwhelming presence of another voice in Laurel’s head was taking all of his focus. His arm slowly started to lift his hands towards his shades, his breath lowly muttering out “I hear you, Zane.”\nThe naga had seen enough, slithering up and over the pet he had coiled in his grasp and made his way towards the little bat, intrigued. He knew he had recognized this little bat before but it wasn’t until Laurel finally muttered out that ill-fated name that it all clicked in the naga’s shade-clad head. Silently he sleeked his way over towards Jack, casually wrapping his coil up and around the feline. “Calm, be sssstill, little kitty. That’sss not how we treat our guestssss,” the naga gently hissed into Jack's ear. Jack slowly melted into a low purr, his body going slack and eyes rolling upwards from behind his shades. With the ferocious lion pacified, the naga turned his hood to face the newest recruit.\n\nThe naga let Jack go and slithered up to press himself next to the small bat, coiling the little prey of a recruit in his grasp. Laurel was so lost within their head that they didn’t even process the scales of the naga pressing up tight against their frail body. He had a plan for the small bat, a trick to put an end to this dreadful form of protest. The naga leaned his mouth towards Laurel's ear, his tongue flicking out in a tease for his prey. The speakers in his hood started to pulse with life, a low ominous hiss electrifying outwards in the air towards the bat.\n\n[b]“The meager little bat stood on the edge of a precipice, dancing on the diving board to the deepest recesses of his mind. A gentle cliffside with the ever-expanding ocean of consciousness before him. He was so tired of fighting, so tired of all the stress that came with conforming to normal life. The weight of society weighed on his shoulders and it was all too much for the little bat to bear. From below the ocean in front came a lullaby, a chorus of thrashing guitars with an ear-deafening base called up to him. The voice of an angel sang out to the little bat, commanding him, drawing him down with a simple lyric. “Let the Tyde come in and wash you away”. So he simply leaned forward and fell, falling past the cliffs and into the waves, gently carried away into the depths from the hustle above. It was ok for him to sleep while the music carried him away, he knew this, for another soul lay in wait, ready to step out of the shadows. Come to us, Zane.”[/b] \nLaurel thrashed back and forth like a mosh-pit to a Slipknot concert, all of his nerves exploding at the tips with electric fury. His muscles began throbbing and seizing as they started to inflate in size, bulging outward in ripples like it was punching their way out of his skin. The tattered leathers that held his formerly meager size in started to flex and tighten, losing the war to contain the massive surge of musculature exploding from Laurel. The bones in his head started to shift, popping into place as they realigned themselves to a more masculine, rigid jawline. Large, hungry, jagged teeth lined his mouth, a sight that would make any small prey quiver in their shoes. His normally red hair explodes upward into a sexy lime green, fading down past his sideburns into a succulent purple. Down lower his pecs surged outward, large ring piercings dominating over his nipples, complementing the massive purple fur that centered his pecs. The jacket looked kid-sized as it strained to contain his rock-hard biceps, accentuated with lime-green stripes around. The lining on the back of the jacket tore in half when his shoulder blades blasted outward. Leather exploded off his legs like a detonating grenade, thighs so thick that even a bowling ball wouldn’t pose a challenge. His thick, heavy cock and balls were a sight to be seen, the envy of nearly every person in the room. The boots fit well over his feet though, powerfully snug and a perfect complement to the gargantuan quads held inside. Finally, in one fell swoop, they collapsed onto the ground with a heavy sigh, their shades falling off their face with a clink onto the ground.\n\n“Hello, Zane.”\n\nThe naga had never seen Laurel in person before, only through a picture provided to him by [s]REDACTED[/s]. But he knew Zane, he had seen him a couple of times before while working for his [s]REDACTED[/s]. Zane was the life Laurel once wished they had, and [s]REDACTED[/s] was able to provide him with his wish. Within the figurative fine print that Laurel cared not to consider, while they did turn into the handsome and desired Zane, Zane turned out to have a personality of his own. He served his [s]REDACTED[/s] while Laurel was nothing more than a mere passenger in their new body.\n\n“Sup, Sonic Screamer?” Zane let out an awkward chuckle. He wasn’t expecting to have his cover blown like this, especially by someone other than his Master, who had specifically asked Zane to watch over Laurel while they experienced Cognizant. And now here he was, out in reality with the one person he was supposed to protect locked away back deep in the pools of his subconscious. He was in trouble, with no backup for himself.\n\nRising to his feet Zane quickly tried to form a plan of escape, this being quite the task for someone as dimwitted as Zane. Luckily for Zane, he didn’t have to struggle too long with having to think of an escape plan, being grabbed from behind and lifted off the ground by the tattooed orca and the drake. Zane sighed, knowing exactly what his fate was to become since he had watched it happen only a few moments ago to themselves.\n\n“Dude, bro, chill, it’s all fuckin bwee here,” the orca reassured Zane, grabbing Zane’s exposed cock and balls with his free hand. It hadn’t even crossed Zane’s mind that he was practically nude during all of this, being quite used to the concept from his live-stream shows online.\n\nIn front of Zane slid up the naga, holding in his hand the purple shades that had doomed his internal friend. The naga didn’t say a word, only an evil smirk lay on his face. Sweat built-up on Zane's brow, his heart pounding with a need to escape. But escape would not come for the himbo bat, who looked towards the naga in front of him, the shades completely eye level, and asked “We can talk about this, right? Right? We echoin’, bro?”\n\n“We echoin’, bro,” the naga hissed back and placed the shades over Zane's eyes.\nThe orca and drake both let go of Zane, his boots creating a resounding ‘thud’ when he hit the ground. Their hands quickly went from being tools of confinement to tools of exploration, grabbing and groping all that the handsome Zane had to offer, who was all but against returning the favor to them. He reached his arm up behind the orca's head and pulled him into a deep kiss, their tongues battling like two swashbuckling pirates ready to plunder each other’s bountiful booty. The drake pressed up behind Zane, sandwiching the large bat between his pecs and the orcas. Jack, meanwhile, had been watching this new show from nearby, his hands somehow fitting quite well in his tight leather pants. “I think we found our final fuckin band member,” the lion proudly boasted to his friends. They all cheered, patting each other on their backs and groping each other's bulges while making their way to the stage.\n\nThe orca was the first to hop up on the wooden stage, making his way towards the back and resting his plump ass on the busted seat, slamming his tail against the ground to compensate for the lack of a bass drum. The drake hopped up next, slinging the bass guitar around his shoulder showing off years of experience before letting his claws flick past a few strings to create a solid riff. Jack took his time getting up on the stage, giving the crowd that was slowly forming around the stage quite a show, shaking his ass and groping his crotch for all to see. He grabbed the last instrument in wait, the electric lead guitar, and thrashed his fingers across the strings with blinding speed to shred out the most face-melting solo the entire bar had ever heard. It was practically sex with an instrument. Finally, last and not least, Zane stepped up onto the stage. He stood in front and gazed over the large crowd. This is what Zane lived for, everyone in the bar had turned to see his show, and he was ready to give them a show. Raising his arms high in the sky he excited the crowd, knowing just how to work them and keep their attention. Zane moved to one side of the stage and put his hand to his ear, and everyone on that side cheered. On the other side, he grabbed his exposed balls, and they cheered even louder. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting and baiting, he finally made his way back to center stage. In one swift motion, he grabbed the microphone, raised it high and proud to his lips, and screamed:\n\n“LISTEN UP FUCKERS! IT’S HIGH TYDE! YOU ECHOIN?!”\n\nImmediately the band joined in and jammed on their instruments, creating the musical equivalent of a building crashing toward the ground. Chords were being thrown about with little regard, the drums being smashed in an off-rhythm, the bassist not even paying attention to his instrument, giving a personal show to some of his fans. Without Zane, this would’ve sounded like a trainwreck, but he screeched out his beautiful voice in such a way that it bound the chaos together. He was the star, for now. After all, he knew was only meant to be the secondary show, the primary show belonging to none other than the owner of the bar, who was watching in the shadows from behind the naga.\n“Nice pipes, Jadir,” the voice spoke to the naga, stepping out of the shadows to reveal the legendary rock star, ‘Kai Tyde’. Jadir lowered his head in the presence of his idol, he had felt nothing but honor from getting the privilege to work with his favorite rock star, and being told that he had done an excellent job only made him feel much more in awe of being in Kai’s presence. “While my scouts keep hunting down new visitors to the area, we can use this new recruit to promote the place and bring in even more members to my Fanclub. Make sure we’re plenty stocked up on shades, we’re gonna need ‘em if we want to take all of Cognizant.”\n_____________________________________________\n\nLooks like Jadir caught wind of Kai Tyde's music and has been taking a few bystanders (and personal favorites) to match up the kind of party his new boss has been craving. Darkwitt hadn't expected Jadir to get caught up in the music so quickly. But that's the nature of the game. \n\nArtwork by Wolfstar, A great artist I found when he was getting really caught up in a drone spreading virus Inspired by some of Rubberbuns' symbiote work about four years ago. Since then it's been great to see where his art has taken him.\n\nStory by Splash, An orca who I've come to admire and respect over the years. He's incredibly friendly, a joy to have a conversation with, and often eager to relinquish his thoughts.\n\nFeaturing one of our subjects: Prescott's Laurel! transformed into a rather familiar gamerbat we designed a while back.\n\n\n[url=https://www.supersurvey.com/poll4455052xC6314D8E-139]VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE MASTERMIND[/url]", "description_bbcode_parsed": "#HYPNOVEMBER #ProjectCognizant
Day 7: Shades
Story by SplashtheOrca

“So this is Cognizant,” Laurel remarked with wonder. It wasn’t even a few hours ago before the small bat had accepted the invitation from Darkwitt to attend the event of a lifetime, and now they were smack dab in the unfamiliar landscape. He was rather quickly able to summarize that he was in an area referred to as “The Focault,” mostly due to the rather large hologram which floated just in front of his eyesight, welcoming them to the area.

Once the welcome message cleared away, his eyes glanced around him with rapid-fire precision, taking in the fullness of the region around him and attempting to make sense of all the sights. Dozens of neon-toned skyscrapers cluttered the skyline, with circuit-board traces running up the outer walls and various neon billboards attached to every vantage point. Looking down towards the ground Laurel saw a very similar aesthetic, with neon lights running down the sidewalks and lining the jet-black roads. Nothing about this area felt natural to Laurel’s senses, he was a bat out of his cave and they knew it.

Laurel was so engrossed with taking in the far sights however, they made the critical mistake of ignoring the sights right next to him. He was quick to realize his critical mistake the second they started hurling toward the ground, after colliding with the large Doberman who was walking straight into the path that he had backed up into. “OOF,” they screeched out as his butt smacked the hard concrete, his flailed-up arm quickly snatched by the Doberman, bringing Laurel back up to their feet.

The Doberman stood large over Laurel, bearing a torn, spiked leather jacket, and leather pants with a bulge that didn’t leave much up to the imagination. Thick leather boots and gloves covered their paws, with a couple of leather bands across their bicep that strained to contain the muscle they held. The Doberman looked like an absolute punk of a beast, much more brutal-looking than the Hawaiian shirt and khakis that Laurel wore. The one thing that truly took Laurel's attention though, was the large, jagged-sharp shades that crossed the Doberman's eyes. He couldn’t help but feel weak from the cold stare coming from the shades, wanting to avert his gaze from them but almost feeling compelled to stare them down.

“The fuck you starin’ at?” snapped Laurel back to reality, emitting a light screech from his shock. The Doberman eye’d Laurel down, examining them over, who could only stare down at the ground while anxiously attempting to come up with a response that wouldn’t get him punched in the face. He felt his heart sink the second the Doberman placed their large paw on the back of their neck, prepping himself for the blow which was about to come. Instead, to Laurel’s much-surprised relief, the Doberman tilted his head up and pointed it towards a bar across the river, the ‘BPM’. “Relax, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Yer new here, yeah? That’s the place you want to be. Grab a drink, chill out, and watch where yer fuckin walkin.”
The Doberman let go of Laurel's neck and walked on their way, a powerful ‘thud’ which each stomp the boots made. Laurel breathed heavily, their heart pounding as powerfully as the boots made a ‘thud’, racing from the nightmare situation they had just averted. But it was over now, the Doberman was walking away, and Laurel could breathe again. He looked over across the river again to where the Doberman had pointed them. “The bar probably wouldn’t be a bad start,” he thought to himself, “there’s got to be someone there I might recognize.”

Laurel turned and started walking down the street that the Doberman had directed them towards. They passed several stores, most notably an arcade called ‘Grid Games Arcade’, absent-mindedly thinking to himself “I should do a live-stream there” before they saw the bridge the dog had mentioned just in front of them. He made his way onto and across the bridge, his fears quickly calmed once they stepped foot on the other side, seeing ‘BPM’ displayed over a building a bit in front of them to the left. “YES!” he cheered out loud, pumping his arms in the air. Not a second later, he quickly lower his arms, closing them around themselves in a hurried moment of anxious security and looking around to make sure nobody was looking. He lowered their head shyly and hurried right over to the building and stepped inside.

Stepping inside, Laurel found the bar itself to be a lavish place, a place the high-end elites would typically call home. A luscious ruby-red gloss highlighted the walls of the establishment bearing stripes of cyan neon to accent the elegance of the room. The bar counter itself was made out of stunning black marble, pin-striped with gold in stunning detail. Row upon row of the finest liquors displayed on crystal shelves dancing and shimmering with the reflection of the liquid pleasures above. Even the barstools were made of elegance, plush ruby-red seats attached to the bar with a low bar to create the appearance they were hovering off the ground. Laurel couldn’t believe their eyes; he was positive there’d be no way he could afford anything at a location like this. That was until his nose picked up quite the smell from the rest of the place.

His nose scrunched up lighting fast in protest of the aroma that hit him. All he could smell was the rank stank of the place, an overpowering aroma of leather, beer, and cum hurriedly wafted into his nose and overwhelmed every single scent receptor inside. He turned his eyes from the masterfully built bar that had been in front of him, and his eyes went wide. Unlike the immaculately kept bar, the rest of the room was in complete disarray. Cheap black paint lined the walls of the dance pit, a literal pit poorly dug up with basic shovels for the patrons to dance in. A poorly hand-made wooden stage in the corner bore instruments and speakers that looked like they were the leftover goods of Woodstock ’99. In the other corner lay the couches of roadsides left behind, full of cigarette burns and stains made from enough substances that he prayed was only just cum. “What maniac could own this kind of place?” Laurel thought to themselves.

“Fuckin move, nerd!”

The voice of a punk behind him snapped Laurel back to reality faster than whiplash on a rollercoaster. He was shoved to the side by a large skunk lined with a purple stripe who wasn’t letting anyone get between him and his next drink. Laurel had gotten so wrapped up in the entire chaotic dissonance of the place that for a second he completely forgot what he was even here to do in the first place. His eyes leveled with the crowd around him, a collection of people wearing an assortment of clothes and gear that Laurel could only best describe as ‘Punk’. A sea of tight leather straps and chaps sprinkled with hints of denim filled the ocean of people in Laurel's eyes. If he was to find any of his friends here, he realized the chances were going to be quite slim.

He began to survey the various people in the room. Over by the emergency exit, he found a well-built black and green panther sporting a Brando leather jacket leaning back against the wall puffing on the thickest cigar Laurel had ever seen, smoke floating up past the jagged green shades over his eyes. Next to him at the collection of beaten-up chairs with three legs, he found a small chocolate rabbit featuring an impressively large mohawk enjoying a beer with his three friends, similarly all wearing the same shades the panther wore in various other colors. A purple drake stood in the corner, muscles giving the leather that held them a run for their money, silently staring at Laurel with an intense red that burned past his crimson shades. Leaning up against a pillar was a grey wolf who was exhibiting a rather intimate moment with his friend, kneeling on the ground with the manhood of the wolf deep in their mouth. Laurel was curious to note that even though both of them had the same shades on as everyone else, the wolf still had an eyepatch over his left eye.

Playing a game of pool in the corner opposite the stage was a black and grey orca with spirals tattooed on his wrists and tail facing off in a heated match against a rather calm-looking skunk clad in blue leather, with blue shades to match. A green alien in a black rubber jumpsuit was busy grinding his paws on the bulge of a boar near the bathrooms, lost in each other's eyes behind the shades on their face. Closer to him near the bar sat a black and red naga with a rather unique feature, a set of boombox speakers interlaced within his hood. A friend of his curled up in his coil with a blissful look on their face. And as Laurel came to expect at this point, had the same sharp shades that covered their eyes in solid black. Behind the naga’s shades, his eyebrow raised, curiously examining the bat like a long-lost memory.

“Well what do we have here?” huffed the deep, but familiar voice behind Laurel. He quickly spun around to put a face to the speaker and was happily surprised to see that it was none other than his good friend, Jack! But his joy turned sour fast when he looked their friend over. Usually, Jack would be found clad in what was about to become the latest fashion trend; gold, and black, and always a step ahead of popular culture when it came to looks. But this was not one of those times, to Laurel's shock, Jack was dressed similarly as grungy as the rest of the crowd, somehow still managing to pull off the best-dressed look out of the well-worn clothes he had. And like all of the rest, to go with his newfound look, Jack sported the same shades as everyone else in the room, in magnificent gold.

“Jack!? It’s good to see you!” Laurel exclaimed, relieved to have found a friend in the mess of people. “What’s going on here? Why are you dressed like that? What the heck is it with those shades!?” they asked with rapid-fire speed.

“We’re fuckin here for a fuckin party, dude,” Jack rather coldly responded, his demeaning being anything other than friendly. “And why the fuck don’t you have any fuckin shades on dude? Get with the fuckin program!” grabbing Laurel by the shirt and shoving him out of the way as he made his way towards the bar.
“Woah, hey, Jack, what’s up?” inquired a very concerned Laurel as they chased after their friend. “Why the heck are you acting like this?”

Jack said nothing in response as he reached behind the marble counter, pulling out a pair of dark purple shades. He turned to Laurel and tossed the shades right at Laurel's face, ricocheting off and clattering to the floor. “Fuckin put these on,” he commanded.

Laurel was taken aback, his friend had never acted like this before. Jack was always friendly with Laurel, an absolute kitten of a friend. But this wasn’t Jack anymore, this was someone who didn’t give a care about the world or people around him anymore, and Laurel was starting to feel like the shades by his shoes might have more of a play in this than a simple fashion statement.

He knelt to pick them up, looking over the shades in his hand with scrutiny, but to the naked eye, they just looked like edgy shades, easy to see through one side and solid purple on the other. Nothing unusual appeared about these shades, but Laurel started to find that he couldn’t take his eyes off them, some magnetic power within them was drawing him to pull them closer to his head.
“Just like that,” his friend purred out, enough to snap Laurel out of his senses and drop the shades back down towards the ground.

“Take off the shades, Jack, there’s something wrong with them!” Laurel screeched out, his voice echoing around the entire bar. He gulped quickly, realizing the attention he brought to himself, his eyes quickly darting around the room as he felt his heart sink. Every eye was now held directly on him, every person in the bar staring their shades directly at Laurel and through his whole body.

“Wrong fuckin response, bro,” growled out Jack, his face dead serious and adopting a posture ready to pounce. Laurel backed up fast, attempting to put as much space between himself and the hungry lion as he looked for a way out of this nightmare he found himself in. But he found that the more he backed up, the closer everyone else in the room was getting to him. When his back hit the cold wall, his heart sank. He was trapped, cornered! His eyes darted around the room in a panic past the slowly approaching mob. He might be able to get out of the emergency exit if he was just nimble enough to dodge past the panther. The main entry looked like a possible means of escape, but he’d have to deal with that red and black naga by the entrance.

Unfortunately for Laurel, he was so engrossed in looking for a place to exit that he made the critical mistake of not looking where there wasn’t an exit. From the direction of the stage, a paw grabbed his shoulder and pressed it up against the wall. Before Laurel had time to react another paw from the direction of the bathroom slammed against his other shoulder, fully pinning him in place. The two figures stood in place as Laurel wrestled to free himself but try as he might he could not get them to budge. It was as if the two brutes had just frozen in place as statues. The only thing that seemed to have any life to them was the cold stare of their shades that felt like they were sucking the will to fight straight out of him.
“Welcome to the club,” he heard his friend say. Laurel turned his head to see his friend, but instead, Laurel was met with the purple warmth of the shades, carefully placed over his eyes by Jack. The second the shades went on, Laurel's two attackers released their grip on him, his knees going weak as he crumpled to the floor.

Within seconds he felt a blast of power emit out of the shades and course through his body, surging with reckless abandon over his entire being. Every nerve in his body fired off with a chaotic fury that sent his senses into overdrive. His brain felt like it was a computer that was overclocked too much, emotion and thought all blending faster than he could even comprehend. His eyes slammed shut at the overload as he fought new feelings and desires worming their way into his ears through the shades. He wasn’t feeling like himself, but he didn’t hate how he felt. He was starting to like it. He felt good, real good. Real fuckin good. “What the fuck was I so worried about,” he thought to himself. “I’m fuckin here to have a good time and,” speaking out loud, “I’M GONNA HAVE A FUCKIN GOOD TIME”.

“Fuck yeah!” cheered a voice in the crowd. “Grab this bat a beer!” came another voice from the crowd. The orca in the back roared out a loud “Bwee!” in celebration with the rest. While the room was in cheer welcoming the newest club member, the lion, Jack, threw his arm around Laurel's shoulder and pulled him in close to his chest. “Let’s get ya in some better gear, bro. This shit ain’t gonna do. Gotta make sure you stick to the club dress code.”

Laurel couldn’t agree more, they couldn’t figure out just what the hell they were thinking with this floral shit they had on. He broke off from the lion and tore off their shirt with such aggressive disdain that one would think it insulted his own mother, their khaki pants kicked off with several loud stomps to the ground. He didn’t give shit with how naked he was in front of everyone now, hell he looked more like a club member now than he did wearing those clothes. Jack stood back watching it all play out in front of him while roaring out with laughter with the rest of the gang, many of them hungrily staring with lustful intent behind their dark shades. They made their way toward the other side of the room while Laurel pounded down the beer handed to him by the rabbit he saw earlier.
From the entryway, the red and black naga watched on intently.

“Laurel.”
The gang tore through the lost and found bin in the backroom, finding a tattered leather jacket full of spikes that fit Laurel snugly around the shoulders, leaving the zipper undone to let his pecs go on display. The only pants that were in the bin were clearly one size too small for the bat and were even missing the crotch which someone had torn off in a desperate attempt to get the prize inside. Unlike the pants, the boots they found were one size too large and smelled rank of sweat and cum. By themselves, Laurel would’ve felt he looked absolutely ridiculous in the getup. But with the shades, Laurel felt the look was perfect. He felt badass, tough, and ready to beat down any fucker who got in the way of his fun.

“This isn’t you, Laurel.”

Laurel and his new friends stomped their way back out into the main bar, hooting and hollering with rambunctious abandon. Several of them broke back off to their previous arrangements, to the pool tables, and poker hands put on pause. A few of them made their way off to the side, all hands on deck as they felt up each other’s bodies in lustful anticipation of what was to come for them. Laurel, Jack, and the silent drake from earlier all made their way up towards the bar to grab themselves a drink.

“Fight it.”

Jack turned to Laurel and asked him what he wanted to drink. Laurel stood there frozen, his mind briefly feeling like a wave of dizziness had washed over him. “Orange Juice,” he mumbled. Jack turned to Laurel with a growl, gripping his shoulder so tightly a claw had dug its way into Laurel's skin. The sharp pain snapped Laurel back to reality, “Get me a fuckin Whiskey,” he growled back to Jack. Jack's intense, stern look quickly relaxed at his friend's correction. He hadn’t ever seen someone change their mind like that after joining the club, but he was so lost in the beer he was downing that he didn’t give it a second thought. The red and black naga by the entryway did though, shifting himself up from the pet he had coiled around, curious about the moment that he saw take place before him.
“Wake up, Sonic Screamer.”

The ice clinked in the whiskey glass as Laurel brought it up to his lips, ready to down the sweet nectar of the gods, but before he was able to tilt the glass, he froze. His body began to tremble, shaking with a light vigor while his glass slipped out of his hand and went crashing to the ground. His hands flew up and clutched his head, fighting the powerfully pounding headache that had seized over him. He knew that voice, he knew deep down it was telling him the truth, but he couldn’t recall who it was.

Jack wasn’t liking what he was seeing, not one bit. Here he was trying to show his friend a good time and the little shit had the nerve to resist? “Bro ya gotta stop sweatin the small shit, you’re with the club now,” he growled at Laurel, his meaty paw gripping the back of the bat’s head, desperately trying to make their shades lock. But Laurel fought, slipping out of Jack's grasp with a quick jerk away. It would’ve been cool if he had meant to do that, but the overwhelming presence of another voice in Laurel’s head was taking all of his focus. His arm slowly started to lift his hands towards his shades, his breath lowly muttering out “I hear you, Zane.”
The naga had seen enough, slithering up and over the pet he had coiled in his grasp and made his way towards the little bat, intrigued. He knew he had recognized this little bat before but it wasn’t until Laurel finally muttered out that ill-fated name that it all clicked in the naga’s shade-clad head. Silently he sleeked his way over towards Jack, casually wrapping his coil up and around the feline. “Calm, be sssstill, little kitty. That’sss not how we treat our guestssss,” the naga gently hissed into Jack's ear. Jack slowly melted into a low purr, his body going slack and eyes rolling upwards from behind his shades. With the ferocious lion pacified, the naga turned his hood to face the newest recruit.

The naga let Jack go and slithered up to press himself next to the small bat, coiling the little prey of a recruit in his grasp. Laurel was so lost within their head that they didn’t even process the scales of the naga pressing up tight against their frail body. He had a plan for the small bat, a trick to put an end to this dreadful form of protest. The naga leaned his mouth towards Laurel's ear, his tongue flicking out in a tease for his prey. The speakers in his hood started to pulse with life, a low ominous hiss electrifying outwards in the air towards the bat.

“The meager little bat stood on the edge of a precipice, dancing on the diving board to the deepest recesses of his mind. A gentle cliffside with the ever-expanding ocean of consciousness before him. He was so tired of fighting, so tired of all the stress that came with conforming to normal life. The weight of society weighed on his shoulders and it was all too much for the little bat to bear. From below the ocean in front came a lullaby, a chorus of thrashing guitars with an ear-deafening base called up to him. The voice of an angel sang out to the little bat, commanding him, drawing him down with a simple lyric. “Let the Tyde come in and wash you away”. So he simply leaned forward and fell, falling past the cliffs and into the waves, gently carried away into the depths from the hustle above. It was ok for him to sleep while the music carried him away, he knew this, for another soul lay in wait, ready to step out of the shadows. Come to us, Zane.”
Laurel thrashed back and forth like a mosh-pit to a Slipknot concert, all of his nerves exploding at the tips with electric fury. His muscles began throbbing and seizing as they started to inflate in size, bulging outward in ripples like it was punching their way out of his skin. The tattered leathers that held his formerly meager size in started to flex and tighten, losing the war to contain the massive surge of musculature exploding from Laurel. The bones in his head started to shift, popping into place as they realigned themselves to a more masculine, rigid jawline. Large, hungry, jagged teeth lined his mouth, a sight that would make any small prey quiver in their shoes. His normally red hair explodes upward into a sexy lime green, fading down past his sideburns into a succulent purple. Down lower his pecs surged outward, large ring piercings dominating over his nipples, complementing the massive purple fur that centered his pecs. The jacket looked kid-sized as it strained to contain his rock-hard biceps, accentuated with lime-green stripes around. The lining on the back of the jacket tore in half when his shoulder blades blasted outward. Leather exploded off his legs like a detonating grenade, thighs so thick that even a bowling ball wouldn’t pose a challenge. His thick, heavy cock and balls were a sight to be seen, the envy of nearly every person in the room. The boots fit well over his feet though, powerfully snug and a perfect complement to the gargantuan quads held inside. Finally, in one fell swoop, they collapsed onto the ground with a heavy sigh, their shades falling off their face with a clink onto the ground.

“Hello, Zane.”

The naga had never seen Laurel in person before, only through a picture provided to him by REDACTED. But he knew Zane, he had seen him a couple of times before while working for his REDACTED. Zane was the life Laurel once wished they had, and REDACTED was able to provide him with his wish. Within the figurative fine print that Laurel cared not to consider, while they did turn into the handsome and desired Zane, Zane turned out to have a personality of his own. He served his REDACTED while Laurel was nothing more than a mere passenger in their new body.

“Sup, Sonic Screamer?” Zane let out an awkward chuckle. He wasn’t expecting to have his cover blown like this, especially by someone other than his Master, who had specifically asked Zane to watch over Laurel while they experienced Cognizant. And now here he was, out in reality with the one person he was supposed to protect locked away back deep in the pools of his subconscious. He was in trouble, with no backup for himself.

Rising to his feet Zane quickly tried to form a plan of escape, this being quite the task for someone as dimwitted as Zane. Luckily for Zane, he didn’t have to struggle too long with having to think of an escape plan, being grabbed from behind and lifted off the ground by the tattooed orca and the drake. Zane sighed, knowing exactly what his fate was to become since he had watched it happen only a few moments ago to themselves.

“Dude, bro, chill, it’s all fuckin bwee here,” the orca reassured Zane, grabbing Zane’s exposed cock and balls with his free hand. It hadn’t even crossed Zane’s mind that he was practically nude during all of this, being quite used to the concept from his live-stream shows online.

In front of Zane slid up the naga, holding in his hand the purple shades that had doomed his internal friend. The naga didn’t say a word, only an evil smirk lay on his face. Sweat built-up on Zane's brow, his heart pounding with a need to escape. But escape would not come for the himbo bat, who looked towards the naga in front of him, the shades completely eye level, and asked “We can talk about this, right? Right? We echoin’, bro?”

“We echoin’, bro,” the naga hissed back and placed the shades over Zane's eyes.
The orca and drake both let go of Zane, his boots creating a resounding ‘thud’ when he hit the ground. Their hands quickly went from being tools of confinement to tools of exploration, grabbing and groping all that the handsome Zane had to offer, who was all but against returning the favor to them. He reached his arm up behind the orca's head and pulled him into a deep kiss, their tongues battling like two swashbuckling pirates ready to plunder each other’s bountiful booty. The drake pressed up behind Zane, sandwiching the large bat between his pecs and the orcas. Jack, meanwhile, had been watching this new show from nearby, his hands somehow fitting quite well in his tight leather pants. “I think we found our final fuckin band member,” the lion proudly boasted to his friends. They all cheered, patting each other on their backs and groping each other's bulges while making their way to the stage.

The orca was the first to hop up on the wooden stage, making his way towards the back and resting his plump ass on the busted seat, slamming his tail against the ground to compensate for the lack of a bass drum. The drake hopped up next, slinging the bass guitar around his shoulder showing off years of experience before letting his claws flick past a few strings to create a solid riff. Jack took his time getting up on the stage, giving the crowd that was slowly forming around the stage quite a show, shaking his ass and groping his crotch for all to see. He grabbed the last instrument in wait, the electric lead guitar, and thrashed his fingers across the strings with blinding speed to shred out the most face-melting solo the entire bar had ever heard. It was practically sex with an instrument. Finally, last and not least, Zane stepped up onto the stage. He stood in front and gazed over the large crowd. This is what Zane lived for, everyone in the bar had turned to see his show, and he was ready to give them a show. Raising his arms high in the sky he excited the crowd, knowing just how to work them and keep their attention. Zane moved to one side of the stage and put his hand to his ear, and everyone on that side cheered. On the other side, he grabbed his exposed balls, and they cheered even louder. After what seemed like an eternity of waiting and baiting, he finally made his way back to center stage. In one swift motion, he grabbed the microphone, raised it high and proud to his lips, and screamed:

“LISTEN UP FUCKERS! IT’S HIGH TYDE! YOU ECHOIN?!”

Immediately the band joined in and jammed on their instruments, creating the musical equivalent of a building crashing toward the ground. Chords were being thrown about with little regard, the drums being smashed in an off-rhythm, the bassist not even paying attention to his instrument, giving a personal show to some of his fans. Without Zane, this would’ve sounded like a trainwreck, but he screeched out his beautiful voice in such a way that it bound the chaos together. He was the star, for now. After all, he knew was only meant to be the secondary show, the primary show belonging to none other than the owner of the bar, who was watching in the shadows from behind the naga.
“Nice pipes, Jadir,” the voice spoke to the naga, stepping out of the shadows to reveal the legendary rock star, ‘Kai Tyde’. Jadir lowered his head in the presence of his idol, he had felt nothing but honor from getting the privilege to work with his favorite rock star, and being told that he had done an excellent job only made him feel much more in awe of being in Kai’s presence. “While my scouts keep hunting down new visitors to the area, we can use this new recruit to promote the place and bring in even more members to my Fanclub. Make sure we’re plenty stocked up on shades, we’re gonna need ‘em if we want to take all of Cognizant.”
_____________________________________________

Looks like Jadir caught wind of Kai Tyde's music and has been taking a few bystanders (and personal favorites) to match up the kind of party his new boss has been craving. Darkwitt hadn't expected Jadir to get caught up in the music so quickly. But that's the nature of the game.

Artwork by Wolfstar, A great artist I found when he was getting really caught up in a drone spreading virus Inspired by some of Rubberbuns' symbiote work  about four years ago. Since then it's been great to see where his art has taken him.

Story by Splash, An orca who I've come to admire and respect over the years. He's incredibly friendly, a joy to have a conversation with, and often eager to relinquish his thoughts.

Featuring one of our subjects: Prescott's Laurel! transformed into a rather familiar gamerbat we designed a while back.


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