#the shell

The right landing should have delivered us right on the doorstep of the townhall of the small town, where we would quickly encounter all sort of human that probably gathered right away to observe us upon our landing.

We would then utilize that opportunity to paralyze them with our venom, gather their DNA, absorb it to our system and built our human shell that copied the townspeople for the perfect integration as we would then dispose their vegetative bodies. But, we instead landed off the town's border due to the rookie that probably put the wrong coordinate which resulted in us stranded in this forest and in human measurement, some 35 kilometres off from our supposed landing spot. That distance is a very miniscule one compared to the intergalactic journey we went through, but for human measurement, that's like a major miss and we ensured that we will relay this message once we are in contact with Mothership that stationed just outside Earth's orbit. The next batch should not experience this unfortunate circumstances

Yet, despite the isolation, we still managed to find a lot of traces of human existence among this wooded path. Sadly, it's not consistent enough to be extracted as a basis to build our shell as most of them tend to be sweat and urine instead of blood, saliva or sperm which has higher DNA consistency. But it's a huge wooded landscape and with that much human traces already, we kept our belief that we will find the necessary DNA source eventually.

After around 30 minutes, we finally found what we're looking for. It's near a structure we learned as a tent and there, we found copious amount of sperm and other things right next to a tree and basically spread around the area. As the one responsible for this pack, I decided to be the first one to initiate this whole thing so I absorbed all the DNA, hair, saliva and practically anything I could find in the perimeter and let the process kickstarted. I can feel my liquid form enlarged and started to harden as I emitted all the information I received from the sources to create the perfect human replica. The flashes of image I received about this human source sharpened the imitation to its finest details. I started from the head as we were taught in our academy to always form the brain and the head first because that's where we will control the shell from. This human has quite an angular facial feature peppered with shaved facial hair based on the genetic data. He has no inherited diseases whatsoever so I take the liberty to assume that this is a healthy person which means that he probably has decent built. The average height of the human in the area where we supposedly landed is around 6 feet tall so that's the height I set my shell to be. But everything becomes much more easier as this human all in a sudden walked out from his tent and started calling out another name

"Colin, is that you?" He faintly whispered. Did I and the pack make too much noise? Well, creating a shell is not necessarily a quiet process as we're practically building a skin but we believe we've been very quiet. Then, an animal we know called as deer appeared but the human seemed to not be that startled. Yet, just a glimpse of his look helped me to really fine-tune everything to perfection. I reshaped my shell's abdominal and pectoral muscle to be tighter and imprinted the ink I saw on the human. The taut legs and tight yet bubbly glutes followed suit alongside the hair on his legs and shaved pubic hair. I also notice the scars in his back and right above his ass crack and make his intricate web of veins that carried the blood to energized his body more visible in my shell to really match his. The final creation is the sexual appendage of the male human and despite not seeing it in full frontal form from the owner, I make an educated guess from the bulge he sported earlier and let the meat formed itself to become a 6.5 inches soft, uncut cock with a large grape-sized sperm glands or human usually called it as balls. It's modifiable after all, so no need to get it perfect on the first go

As I then take the time to create all the internal organs and placed myself to wrap this imitation brain of this shell like a cocoon, this shell is finally ready so I stand up and happily grinned looking at the rest of the pack

"Wait here, okay? All of you will have your turn coming,"

He's already back inside his tent when I stand up, so I slowly creep myself to ambush him before that Colin person comes back. He's sleeping naked with his ass on full display inside his tent, the fuzziness and arch of his ass inspired me to alter my shell right then and there for a perfect copy and before he's aware, I lunged right at him and started to circle my muscular forearm to choke him. We battled hard as he flailed around trying to get himself free, but I locked his neck and legs way too tight for him to get out from. When his body goes limp, I finalized the tiny details I failed to get by altering my shell before I enacted the final replication process. As my shell goes limp without me in control, I inserted myself to his brain to gather all information needed. It's a rather quick process as I simply wrap myself around his soon-to-be useless brain and absorbed all the information about.......Ryle Adams. Then, I slide out from his brain and entered my Ryle shell to then inject the memory to the mush of a brain of the shell so I can pass myself on as Ryle Adams with ease and also making this body able to function autopilot even when I'm not inside of him, a perfectly seamless integration

10th anniversary of TAWOG S3 EP20 The Shell! (Piskel)

Sprinkles: Bark! Bark! (Happy 10th anniversary of the episode '' The Shell '' from The Amazing World of Gumball, I decided to make this fanart in gif because it is one of my favorite episodes of TAWOG, seeing gummy or penball holding hands in space dating, this is quite nostalgic for those who saw this episode for the first time back then, and they also confirmed that there will be a seventh season in the year 2025-2026 and a movie, let's wait for that next year!)

Drawing Pixel Art Animation Gif Made In Piskel

You found her....

Happy birthday Kuchiki Touko!!!

June 6th.

Her Room :: Andrew Wyeth

* * * *

The Shell

The sea fills my ear with sand and with fear.

“You may wash out the sand, but never the sound of the ghost of the sea that is haunting me.”

Ted Hughes,

DWC Day 6 (Echo, Wilt)

They came to me like seeds starving for soil… starving for me.

They writhed beneath my shadow, blossoming in delusion, their praises flung into the abyss... into nothing.

They danced. They drank. They feasted. They sang. All so proud. All so certain.

And then they smiled...right as my wroth spilled through them like a plague... and oh, how beautifully they wilted at my feet. _________________________________________________________

The churchgoers poured into the pews, their eyes bright with borrowed hope. The preacher, a hollow puppet of light and lies, lifted his hands and spoke words sculpted precisely to their hungers:

Salvation… for the price of devotion. Freedom… traded for surrender. Comfort… distilled from their own quiet desperation.

The Entity watched, delight humming behind its teeth as it could taste their rapture.

Every mind beheld a different gospel... all of which found their wants and needs fulfilled through illusion and trickery:

The drunkards tasted shimmering chalices brimming with exotic wine. The heartbroken felt love flutter to life beneath their ribs like a counterfeit heartbeat. The lost and wandering sensed “purpose” crystallizing before them like a holy epiphany.

The Entity could not hold back a sneer. Pathetic creatures... laying their desires on the altar of their own making. The darkness slid into them, anointing skulls, threading thoughts, feeding on the echoes of their whispered lamentations:

“I want to be loved…” “I want to be heard…” “I want to feel…” “I want to undo my guilt…”

Weak. Predictable. A choir of the same whimpering note, sung endlessly.

And so their desires were “answered.” As the Entity feasted, each bite, each tear into the tender meat of their minds gave them the illusion of fulfillment. They were easy offerings when they knelt their thoughts at its feet.

The preacher’s sermon droned on while the Entity drifted through the shadows, indulgent, unhurried.

Then it turned inward toward the first mind it ever claimed: its hallowed Shell.

Allasticus B’andtherion had become little more than a slumped echo of who he imagined himself to be. Frail. Broken. A wilted weed that once fancied itself a blossom of gold and crimson.

The Shell flinched as the Entity’s disappointment sliced through his mind like a heated blade.

“You’re all but ŝ̶̥͙̫̗͖̣̻̠̬̺̉́̔͐́̓̓̈́͝p̵̧͎̗̞͇͉͉͉̐͑̂͝ȩ̴̝̮̾͑̅n̴̨̡̢̰̳͔̝̟͔͂͜ť̶̢̧͉̣͉̰̃̅͐̑̊́̓̃…”

The word dripped through him like venom, a taunt daring him to muster even a flicker of resistance. As always, none came.

A cold claw of the void traced the hollow of his cheek, cupping the sunken skin with the mock tenderness one gives a dying pet.

A decision was then settled. His usefulness had run its course.

“But worry not…I will set you f̵̧͚̣̫̰̖͛̇̈̉̃̒̀̈͝r̵̨͚̤̔̏͗ę̴̢͓̥̦̭͚̒̔̀̓̎̀̀̂e̵̯͈̳͕̔͛̉͑…”