In a Hell, someplace unseen, there grows a tree by poisoned means, furled and gnarled and anything but green. Its branches bow with apples bright, watered with fear and plenty of plight, how they gleam with rage and promised cage, for any that might yet take a bite.

Shakes knew only the ‘gardener’; the silent-thing she dealt with to obtain the tools required for such delightful enjoyment, to fill the lovely box of broken toys she adored. A collection required maintenance after all—and the occasional added new object to mar and shape brought a baleful twinkle to her eyes. This intent has her store such goodies, bought for a cost, at least she thought, well and truly safely inside of her abode.

The pitter-patter of feet betrays to the night that naught did stir, but that one little mouse. With a scaling and jarring of wall then window the erstwhile overconfident rodent, sveltely clad, was far too up for snooping around where she did not belong this night.

Searching and sifting through the Mare’s things~

Apples. Gods damned apples. It was all she had found in all of her sniffing around this place; not a hide nor hair of any interesting trinkets or scrap, just a big ol’ pile of the red-things. Not that Gadget was opposed to fruit—nor ‘free’ fruit all the more, but, she had had to pick a lock to get that chest open. All for a bushel of apples?

The femme-mouse wrinkles her nose as a degree of confusion, along with frustration sets in.
“Tch. Really thought that menacing Mare would have better stuff than this…”

Leaning her small body over the edge of the chest the Mouse snags one of the fruits from the top of the pile. It’s skin a shiny red, clearly, even in the little light afforded to the thieving rodent. It gleamed as she turned it in her dainty hands. It felt heavy, she thinks, as deliberation of it jut her jaw to one side.

With a grunt she displaces those thoughts to the void. She was hungry after all, so, she opens wide and takes a bite out of the big red fruit.

Or at least she tries to. It’s all wrong—immediately it felt wrong against her teeth; it was harder and… Rubbery.

“What the--?!” she squeaks, giving the thing a further examination. A raise of an eyebrow in scanning it gave no more information; it was still an apple, or looked like it.

Then sliding into top place of dumbest decisions of the little Gadget Hackwrench’s life was the choice to try to at least taste its surface. With a yawning mouth she pokes out her small tongue to test and taste but, in the end, she gets far more than she bargains for.

With a whipping wiry sound the apple sheds its skin; like a wolf bursting out of something you thought was a sheep, the red fruit becomes something out of a nightmare, not that Gadget could well see it. Instantly she feels it grab her; thin stringy appendages catch the mouse’s head and cause her to scream in shock, but, this too is caught-- caught in her mouth against the mass of this ‘chameleon’ thing.

It’s rubbery ball like shape jamming into her jaw despite her trying to claw and grip at its form; she isn’t able to stop it pulling itself into her mouth with its grip on her skull. This multi-limbed thing was far stronger than you’d think, the squealing sound of panic trapped in her mouth against the back of this creature made all the worse the sight of how she staggered and roiled to get the thing OUT.

Why wouldn’t it let go of her head?! In her thrashing effort to loose the thing from her mouth her tinny goggles clatter to the ground.

Gadgets panic only rises; it ebbs into horror as the thing, this parasite, fills her mouth all the more. Was it growing? It pushes against her tongue which had been working so fruitlessly to dislodge this invader. At the same time the squirming tendrils of the thing looking for grapple only find more of it about her poor head.

Gadget feels the things hook against her nose; at first a tickling explore, to her dismay, becomes another full-fledged rape of her air-way. The slither into her cute-pink-nose, drawing it up slightly by their pull in anchoring the thing and only more-so by her continued frantic efforts to get the thing off of her. How it was becoming difficult to breathe—only more and more so with those tentacles venturing down her airway.

She coughs, she screams against her ghastly gag, but just as air-flow is caught up in hair-raising defilement so are the sounds emanating from the thrashing mouse. She can’t breathe. She claws at it, bites down upon it with hurting jaw, but it didn’t matter.

She slows, dizzy and terrified, as the room spins and her throat is probed. She can feel the growing thing sliding from her filled mouth against the back of her throat, slowly, frightfully, as the room seems to grow darker. She was close to passing out, when, some semblance of ‘breath’ comes back to her burning lungs.

The femme-mouse felt numb, unable to think as the thing fed her air, at least enough to last. Not enough to fight it. As consciousness rebalanced in her brain she finds herself still laying upon the floor in the dim-light, alone, with her new close friend.

Her jaw hurt. It was wrenched wider than she thought she could ever get it; her mouth filled with a taste of slime and slow, wiggling movement as… Something grew inside of her. A feeling that only increased in pace as her mind dwelled on what was happening to her. On the horror occurring; it was forcing itself down her throat, now, steadily. 

She cannot help but lurch and gag, her little body bowing off of the ground, but there was no stopping its slow encroachment. Its mass stretching out the mouse’s gullet as it grew; poor Gadget tipping her head back as she felt her svelte neck bulge with it presence. Her mind spined and raced; how could she get out of this? How could she get it out?

All this feeling, all this terror only seemed to egg the thing on. At first the mouse thought she was blacking out once more but no; her mind was just a little too clear for that and in her dread, she realized it was growing externally to, advancing over her face.

No. Oh no…

It was black. A goop? A fluid? She didn’t know, couldn’t see it properly—but could feel and sense its advance over her little snout. Up her cheeks. Over her watering eyes. Every ounce of her pleaded with it to stop, but it wouldn’t. It couldn’t.

As the veil of organic transparent material edged over her vision, she felt something more from the alien-thing invading her throat. Now inches into her straining gullet, the mouse felt something terrible, something liquid, pump right into her. It spurts right down into her stomach and instantly fills her with—warmth.

A warmth that, with another gush from the thing in her throat, slowly spread. Her poor esophagus still retched and haplessly gagged, the muscles there too strained into uselessness like her poor jaw. She tingled as the slow mask growing over her head, black, like translucent latex, folded down her once round and perky ears. As this mask grew into place, the thing seemed to delight in edging her ability to breathe—letting her have so little as to lull into near darkness only to reward her with more for the terror she felt.


This state continued for a time. The poor victim couldn’t tell just how long, nor could she see how this horrid once-apple had ‘opened up’. A pale green eye peering from the fleshy ball wedged so tightly into her mouth; looking this way and that as it sensed, as it fed upon every ounce of her being.

This numb pandemonium of breathless entrapment, and the warmth of whatever liquid it was feeding her, lead to utter confusion inside of her. Her limbs began to tingle, the hurt lessened but did not disappear—of the thing worming its way into her throat. No, it was deeper than that now wasn’t it? It was gushing that ‘stuff’ right into her stomach.

The poor mouse, now masked, her throat distended by horrid flesh filling it, felt all too hot. In her more addled state she undresses; stripping away flailingly at all of her clothing, the sling of her belt, the violet overall she wore.

Then naked, with her blurry sight, she could see how her stomach had ‘filled’. It was bloated; swollen even, and even through her mask she could hear gurgles and groans from her belly. The thing was growing ever more inside of her wasn’t it?

Truth be told that thick tendril that sprouted from the shining eye jammed into her maw had moved on from her stomach; snaking its way past into her guts and growing ever on, filling out her intestines with its mind-bending fluid.

Gadget quivered. What was this thing doing to her? A tingle that had started in the skin of her fingertips had now covered her and she could feel unwanted sensation; it made her slicken between her legs and the more masculine aspect of her harden. This couldn’t be happening!

All the fear and the horrid disgust was mingling with something else. With arousal; with that hot wet and patter of her heart not from any menace, but pleasure. Her stomach groaned and grew as the thing inside of her did. It grew ever longer, even thicker in places, worming its way through her guts on and on…

Until, through her blurry vision and oft trembling hands and could perceive her stomach, a slowly squirming, writhing, gurgling mass of this thing. Her belly had become so bloated she looked pregnant, but not with any kind of pinkies. The thought made her eyes roll in their sockets, beneath that living mask so tight about her face, it made her cock jump with pre-leaking pleasure and become ever more evidence to her slipping mind. Her hands, tingling with the edging this thing was putting her through, moved up to feel at the grown mask covering her head.

It was slick, almost. Not slimy but smooth; as if it were grown out of some rubber or latex or something. So tight to her skin. Her mind seemed to work so slowly now; she could try to concentrate and only lull into a sticky mire of salacious thought. Was this thing really trying to hurt her? Was it so horrible? Internally, she didn’t know anymore.

Externally, her distended belly was shifting and squirming not just with her bewildered movements. She was getting so big with the mass of this thing growing inside—through her. It wasn’t much longer before she felt herself almost at breaking point; her belly felt far too full, her skin taught against the mass squirming inside of her gets.

A feeling of sick movement had reached all the way to her rear, or near. She could feel something, a pressure building up inside of her guts that worked its way up to her asshole. It felt so big against the inside of her ass; filling out her colon and writhing faintly, squashing every tight bundle of nerves inside of her that mattered. She couldn’t help it in the least; couldn’t help the faint numb way her hips bucked and her cock spurted a sticky-white up upon her own gravid parasite filled belly, the way her cunt clenched and squeezed in rhythmic ecstasy~

This very demonic-fueled climax was just the thing that helped the too-big end of this nightmarish thing strain and grow out of Gadget’s tailhole; wetly pushing from the tight ring came a large ‘bulb’ like structure, feathered with odd ‘leaves’. It worms and writhes in the air snaking out from her rear as the toil and turbulence more or less saps whatever was left of the mouse’s will from her.

The mouse gets up; or rather, Trinket gets up. The bale-green parasitic eye looks about as it wills the mouse to its feet; the bulb hanging from her asshole, beneath her faintly pulsating cock was searching for something—another warm hole to sink itself into. Seeking to breed and plant seed within this poor host, whose body it had totally infiltrated inch on inch, and now hijacked…

With drool slowly oozing from around the mouth-wedge eye, and wet drooling from the climax suffering hole it sought, all the demonic thing does is stare out at its fellows; a bright bushel of apples, each staring back, with a macabre green eye.