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Part 1: How I learned to stop worrying and love the gas.

Day 0

            I sat in my cell and thought about how much life can change in such a short period of time.  Just last week I was a respected researcher at a prominent government institution.  I wasn't famous or even well known, but I was happy to do my part on the cutting edge of a new area of science.
            Now…now I was facing the rest of my life in a cage.  How could one mistake, one stupid mistake screw me over so bad?  To make matters worse there wasn't even a single part I can point to and say "whoop, there's my problem."  I was like those ill fated engineers the day Chernobyl went critical, trapped by a series of otherwise not fatal events that culminated in something tragic.
            No, I didn't blow up a power plant.  That would probably have been simpler.  A few million in fines that I could never pay and a prison sentence the radiation would make sure I didn't see the end of.  In a way though, my actions might have had as much environmental impact.
            I and all the others in my small division were researching a new type of gas.  Not the type that goes in your car, this was…something different.  Something otherworldly.  And I mean that literally.  The first time this stuff came on the government’s (literal) radar is when they were tracking objects falling to earth from orbit.  I'm a molecular biologist, not a rocket scientist, so I don't know what sent up the first red flag.  Coming in too fast?  Wrong angle?  Wrong place?  Whatever it was, the government sent out a team to figure out what it was.  Or, knowing the government, who it belong to so they could sue them for safety violations.
            The recovery team probably expected a few metal chunks, maybe even a tungsten tank.  What they found instead was…unprecedented.  It was a tank all right, bigger than a man.  But it wasn't deformed or heat scorched.  In fact it didn't seem to show any wear or tear from its perilous tumble through the atmosphere.
            Something else the recovery team didn't expect was for the small ports to open up on the tank and douse them in a thick green gas.  They were wearing some protective gear as sometimes falling fuel tanks still have a trace of caustic chemical in them.  They weren't in full biohazard gear though and whatever the gas was ate right through their protective clothing.
            None of this was seen firsthand.  After several calls with no response, the government sent out a larger and better prepared second team.  They found the bodies of the first team, clothes melted away, each and every member unconscious.  The government quarantined the whole area, making up some story about an underground pipeline rupture.  I wasn't part of the project at that point, so I don't know how much data about what happened they recovered.
            If that had been the only incident, it probably would have been buried in a stack of government files and forgotten until some conspiracy theorist dug it up fifty years later.  But it wasn't the only incident.  Just over a month later, another tank, another…canister came down.  This time the recovery team was sent in with full protective gear and rolling cameras.
            I watched the feed shortly after joining the project.  It…wasn't pretty.  Green gas shooting out and people screaming as their clothes melted away.  By the time the secondary recovery team was sent out the gas had dissipated.  The entire team was unconscious, much like the first.  I still don't know if any of them ever woke up.
            After that the government got a lot more careful about these unknown falling objects.  As soon as they detected one coming down they cleared out the entire area and sent in autonomous robots.  Through lots of trial and error it was discovered the canisters only opened when they sensed human life nearby.  Animals were apparently fine.  One robot captured a deer licking the canister like nothing was wrong.  The exact distance that would cause them to open seemed to vary based on the number of people, but the guideline was no human should approach within a hundred feet.
            I never questioned what the government did with the canisters it recovered.  My job was to study samples from affected humans.  If I had…maybe I wouldn’t have ended up in this mess.

Day -7 (one week ago)

            Ugh.  For the thousandth time I wondered why it had to be me who had to go get this round of samples.  I was a researcher, not a gopher.  They said someone with biohazard suit experience needed to pick up the samples, but I couldn't be the only one on staff.  Roberts was usually the one who got them, it was just my crappy luck he was away on holiday when a new order came in.
            I checked my gps against the sheet of paper I had lying on the passenger seat of the small company car.  Sure enough, it confirmed this was Facility 12.  The dispatch showed a modern glass hospitalish building surrounded by other buildings, not the bunker in the middle of no-where I was staring out now.  Had someone made a mistake?  I tried calling in to double check, but the battery on my phone had somehow gone kaput.  Perfect timing as always.  It would be just my luck to pop a tire on the way back and have to walk to town to get someone to pick me up.
            I got out of my car and looked around.  A quick check confirmed the last person I saw was the clerk at the small grocery store thirty miles back.  If a more out in the middle of nowhere place was possible, I couldn't think of one.
            I tried yelling to get the intention of someone inside, assuming there was someone inside.  After two minutes of uselessly drying out my throat, I was pretty sure I was the only one out here.  This put me in a bit of a quandary.  My instructions stated very clearly, in bold, enlarged type that I was only supposed to go near the samples while in full biohazard gear.  I didn't know why, but they were treating our research supplies like they were Ebola or something.  Like a single mishandled vial would start an epidemic.  Yea right.
            Still, it would be just my crappy luck for someone to be watching on a video feed.  The last thing I needed to be was written up for a major offense.  But the intensity of the message, not putting on a full suit would be a very major offence.  There could be a clean room by the enterance to put on a suit, but if I went up there and discovered there wasn't one, I would be in trouble.  Talk about a catch 22.  It would be a hassle, but I needed to put on my suit out here to be safe.
    It took me nearly twenty minutes and about as many feet of duct tape to get the field suit on.  At least it was less cumbersome than the lab ones, which needed two people to put on properly. 
After one last check of my seals and seams, I approached the facility.  The front had two doors.  The first was a large industrial one, heavy metal segment composing a square ten feet long and equally high.  Beside that was a smaller, person sized door.  I was expecting a lock or keypad or something to keep ordinary people off the street from walking in, but the door only had simple push latch.  Considering all the isolation measures I had gone through so far, this seemed an odd lapse of security.
The light from the overcast day only illuminated the first few feet of the room inside.  I didn’t want to walk all the way around to my car, so I fumbled for a light switch.  I found what felt like a push button through the gloves and depressed it.
While harsh red lights did turn on, what I pushed was definitely not a light switch.  How did I know?  The loud alarms and the rumbling of the industrial door opening beside me were a big clue.  That alone was enough to get my heart racing.  What the red lights illuminated in terrifying clarity almost stopped it.
Canisters.  Row after row of canisters.  There had to be dozens of them.  I had seen what a single one did to entire teams, now I was the only one here facing so many.  If they were here then why was I here?  People weren’t supposed to get close to them, in case they set the canisters off.
At that thought I heard a loud click followed by a sustained hiss.  Oh no, oh no no no.  I had set one off.  More clicking and a doubling of the hissing volume a second later proved more than one had gone off.
Panic welled in me as I pictured what this gas did to people.  It didn’t occur to me to try and close the doors, to contain the leak.  I did the only thing my frantic mind could think of.  I sprinted back to my car, praying the piece of junk wouldn’t crap out on me now.  I jumped inside, slammed the door, and hightailed it outta there.  In the rearview mirror I could see a cloud of green gas rising up behind me.

         
Day 0 (cont)

            And that is how I ended up in here.  From what they've told me the gas drifted over the lake I passed before dissipating harmlessly.  I was just lucky they had chosen such an isolated area to store the chemicals.  Lucky…but not for me.  Due to all the government secrecy and paranoia about the stuff, they treated me like I had poured nuclear waste all over the countryside.  Like I said before, I was stuck living the rest of my life in a cage.
            That thought made me look over at the small desk in my cell.  Calling it a desk was generous.  An inch thick metal plate bolted to the wall with screws bigger than my fingers.  On it sat two different stacks of paperwork, each awaiting my signature. They can't put me in a normal prison, far too high a chance I'll let something slip.  This left me with one of two options.
            Option A was I lived out the rest of my life in solitary in a blacksite somewhere.  No communication with the outside world, just me and four concrete walls until I died of boredom.
            Option B…could be worse.  Sure I would be treated much better and would actually get to interact with other people…but the price?  The price was I was going to be a glorified guinea pig.  The government only had a handful of test subjects who had been exposed to the gas.  Under ethics laws, they could take non-invasive samples such as blood or skin biopsies, but not perform further tests.  But if I volunteered, they could test whatever they wanted on me.  From the scant details buried under all the legalese, they were actually planning to inject me with a liquefied version of the gas.  Ostensibly to find out of there was a way to inoculate against it, but more likely to see if it acted differently when not inhaled.
            Best case for Option B was nothing happened.  I'd spend several weeks in a cell while undergoing daily tests.  There were even a few hints I would be able to work on my own samples afterward, to help make the inoculation more viable.  Worst case…I might end up in a coma like everyone else exposed to the gas.  The document said the research team thought they had isolated and removed the paralytic compound.  In reality, I knew I would be the true test of their claims.  While this option wasn't appealing, it was better than dying one day at a time lost to the world.
            And yet…I was afraid to sign either paper.  Afraid to doom myself to one fate or the other.  Why was I always so afraid?  Growing up it was fear of failure that drove me to work so hard.  I had to have everything perfect, because anything other than high praise was a devastating blow to my ego.  Sure there had been a few bumps along the way, but I always managed to rationalize them off as not my fault.  Not this time though.  I had to choose what I was most afraid of.  Certainty?  Or uncertainty?
            In the end, I decided the former scared me more.  I got up off the bed and struggled over to the desk.  I flipped to the last page of the right stack of papers and signed my name before I could change my mind.
            They must have been watching, for not a minute later my cell was invaded by a group of fully suited individuals.  I was strapped down to a gurney and felt the poke of something in my arm.  I tried to ask what it was, but the words turned to cotton in my mouth.  The ceiling with its single bulb started to spin and before I knew it I was out like a light.

  Day 1

            I awoke in a cell much different than my old one.  That had been a dungeon, while this was more a gilded cage.  The room was maybe ten by twenty; with the walls, floor, and ceiling painted the same clinical crème color.  I was currently lying on a bed without sheets in one corner of the room.  Right beside me was a window to the outside world...outside corridor that spanned the upper half of the long wall.  Below the window was what looked like cabinets, but I didn't feel like investigating them for now.  In the other corner of the short wall was a desk.  Like the one in my old cell this one was entirely made of metal, but instead of a plate it was actually shaped like a desk.  There were legs and drawers and even a pull out sections.  There was also a computer monitor, along with a keyboard and mouse.
            Next to the desk was a large flat screen  television mounted to the wall.  It was currently partly pointed away from me, giving a glimpse of the hemispherical apparatus on the back.  I'm not an engineer, but I guessed it would allow the TV to point anywhere in the room.
            On the far side of the TV was a treadmill.  Before this they hadn't been my favorite part of going to the gym, losing out only to the rack of weights beside it.  From what I remembered from the document I signed, I would be spending at least an hour a day using one or the other.
            The only other part of the cell I could see was doorway to a curtained off area in the last corner.  I assumed it hid my toilet and shower.  I really hoped it did and they weren't expecting me to use a litter box like a cat or something.
            Having this room prepped and ready for me not even a full day after signing should have been an impressive feat.  But to me it really wasn't.  They knew what choice I would make.  In a battle between bad and worse, any sane person would pick the lesser of two evils.
            "Ms. Parker, I see you're back with us." The voice seemed to come from all around me, the product of hidden speakers.  I looked over to see a man in a lab coat standing halfway down the windowed wall.  He looked to be in his early fifties, his curly brown hair fading to grey and skin pale from lack of sunlight.  I knew I looked much the same way.  The paleness, not the grey hair.  I wasn't even thirty yet, after all.
            I got off the bed and realized all I was wearing was a flimsy green gown like they make you wear in hospitals.  At least this one seemed to have a side zip, so I wasn't flashing my non-existent backside at anyone who walked by.  It felt as unflattering as a garbage bag and about as long, the bottom edge barely falling to my mid thighs.  I would have to be careful not to flash anyone front or back.
            Tugging down my gown, I walked over to stand before the scientist.  "Um…hi." Blame it on the sedatives they doused me with, but I didn't have a clue what to say to the man who was about to use me like a lab monkey.
            "Ms. Parker, my name is Dr. Horace Snyder.  I am one of the senior researchers here at the center.  You might not have known it, but your team from before the…incident fell under my supervision."  Considering how that turned out, I wasn't sure if this was good or bad news.  "I will be personally overseeing your treatment here, though most of your interactions will be carried out by junior members of my personal staff.  Rest assured you are in excellent hands."
            The hands might be excellent, but the tools they were wielding were crude at best.  Unless I had missed a breakthrough during my "vacation," I knew what they were doing was little more than blind testing.  Somehow…I was ok with that.  If the data they got off me helped find a way to make those other comatose people wake up, then somehow I hadn't wasted my life.
            Dr. Snyder continued talking during my internal monologue, so I tuned back in.  It seemed he was discussing the various features of my room and my expected responsibilities.  The most interesting point was the fact I was required to keep a journal, concentrating on my mental state and any physical changes.  I was sorely tempted to ask what physical changes they were expecting, but decided I really didn't want to know.
            Dr. Snyder finished with, "That should be all you need to know for now.  If any questions come up you can ask the attendant on duty.  You'll be watched twenty-four seven the first few weeks to ensure we can come to your aid in time if you have a problem."  Joy, there went any last shreds of privacy I wasn't expecting.
            I turned my head when I heard a hissing sound coming from the direction of the bathroom.  Even though it sounded different, I still had uncomfortable flashbacks to the last time I heard such a sound.  At my action Dr. Snyder said, "That is one of my assistants stepping in to deliver your first dose of the serum.  You will receive one dose a day for the first week, after which we will watch for any changes."
            A figure stepped out from behind the curtain.  I guessed he was a man by the size, but the all encompassing sealed environment suit with mirrored viewport left few other clues.
            "This is Owen Santos, my head assistant." Dr. Snyder explained.  If you'll sit on the bed he'll give you your first injection."
            I did as instructed and held out an arm to Owen.  The suited figure pulled something the size of a coffee thermos from his belt.  Twisting off one end, Owen pulled out a comically large syringe.  They were going to inject me with that?  I almost made a joke about asking if it was too late to back out of my decision, but the stony look on Dr. Snyder's face dissuaded me.  He clearly thought this was a very serious, if not monumentally serious moment.  Therefore I just sat there and took the shot like a good little test subject.
            I expected it to hurt and it did, though far less than I expected.  My only experience with needles was my annual flu shot.  Those were a quick poke and it was over.  This needle seemed three times the gauge yet still slid cleanly into me.  I could feel a pressure as the fluid inside the syringe was pushing into my body, but it didn't burn or tingle or produce any other sort of reaction.
            Dr. Snyder quizzed me about how I felt while Owen packed the now empty syringe back into the thermos.  Without saying a word the suited man turn and left my cell.
            "As no doubt you're still feeling the effects of the sedatives they used while bringing you here, why don't you lie down for another nap." Dr. Snyder suggested.  "I'll have someone stop by in a few hours with some food."
            His suggestion sounded like a good one, so I curled up on the bed and tried to fall back into sleep.  I was committed now with no way to change things, so for the first time in a week I embraced the blackness easily.

Day 3

            I was breathing heavily as my last fifteen minute set on the treadmill ticked down to zero.  As the ground beneath me stopped moving I leaned on the support rail to allow my heart to settle and breathing to slow.  Being the brainy type, I was never much into physical activity even back in college.  Now I was just thankful they were ramping me up slowly.
            I stepped off the treadmill and undid my rubber toe shoes to allow my feet some freedom.  With them off I was now entirely nude.  Yesterday and the day before I had suffered through that stupidly short gown before I finally decided enough was enough.  My watchers had been flashed enough by now they probably had seen all I had to offer anyway.  The embarrassment of giving them the full show was less than the relief I got not constantly having to worry about it.
            Not that I had much to offer.  Beanpole skinny girls usually have height going for them, but I didn't break the five foot mark until my first year of college.  I had a lot of experience being the shortest person in the room.  Having no assets in front or back had one small advantage though, I wasn't flopping everywhere while I did the stupid daily exercise drills.
            I stumbled over to the shower, legs a bit wobbly.  Washing away the accumulated sweat would feel heavenly.  I stepped inside and turned on the taps, allowing the warm liquid to pour down over me.  The shower didn't have a head, instead numerous pinpricks dotted the ceiling.  As I scrubbed myself clean I felt like a little girl again, playing in the rain.  In a way that made me feel sad, as it was very unlikely I would ever feel true rain on my skin ever again.
            As much as I wanted to stay in the shower forever, I knew I had my next injection appointment in less than twenty minutes.  I turned the taps off and tried to catch the last few drops from the ceiling.  After the last drip was making its way toward the drain I hit a different button beside the taps.  Warm air blasted through the shower, reminding me of a hot day in the desert.  Any moisture on my body instantly fled.  I kept my hair in a short curl, but it was still thick enough I had to separate it out to dry properly.  The place was too cheap or paranoid to give me a towel, but at least I was allowed a comb.
            Stepping out of the shower, I was met with the suited form of one of Dr. Snyder's assistants.  Strictly going by the height I guessed Owen again.  After spending several hours in my presence over the past few days, he had yet to say a single word to me.  That seemed to be more his decision instead of instructions.  The other two assistants had no problems talking to me.  Ryan was downright friendly, though I wish Nicolas was as silent as Owen.  He creeped me out a bit whenever we were together.  At least with everyone watching he couldn't do anything.  I really wished Dr. Snyder would send in a female assistant some time, someone I could have more of a heart-to-heart conversation with.
            In his usual fashion Owen said nothing.  He simply turned and made his way back into my cell.  If he had some feelings about my total nudity, they were lost behind that reflective mask.  I sat on the bed and obediently held out my arm.  After two days of doing this I knew the drill.  Owen unscrewed the container I still thought of as a thermos, extracted the syringe, and injected it into me with the passion of someone folding laundry.  A necessary task, but one not glamorous or exciting.
            When I reached my daily dose of mysterious green liquid Owen returned the syringe to the thermos and left my cell.  I was sorely tempted to yell something after him, but I was always tired after my injections.  I considered a nap, but decided against it.  Ever since I was put in this cell my dreams had gotten…strange.  I couldn't remember any of the details, but I had woken up this morning feeling…off put.
            I chose instead to binge watch more of a television show I had discovered.  I was in a cage, but the gilding included several online collection subscriptions.  I curled up on my mattress and tried to lose myself in the happy people on the screen.  For just a little while, they allowed me to forget about my situation.

Day 7

            As Owen packed away the syringe and left my cell I let out a sigh of relief.  I officially wouldn't have to deal with any more injections in my daily schedule.  Without them, I could pretend I was actually in some sort of health spa.  According the daily measurements I had lost five pounds so far this week.  The true number was higher, as I had gained some heavier muscle as well.  The food was all perfectly balanced.  Yogurts and grains for breakfast, fruits and cheeses for lunch, salads for dinner.  I probably hadn't eaten this well in my entire life.  My parents weren't health food nuts and after I moved out dinner was often the quickest thing I could slap together.
            I felt a bit tired, but not as bad as earlier in the week.  Instead of curling up on the bed I sat down at the computer.  Dr. Snyder insisted I keep a daily journal to record how I was feeling.  Right now, I was feeling better than I had in a long time.  Whatever the scientists had done to remove the paralyzing agent in the gas seemed to have worked.  The only changes I had experienced so far were those associated with getting fit.  My daily measurements revealed a growth spurt of two inches, but I put that down to finally treating my body right.  Frankly, if that was the worst change I was perfectly happy.  I certainly wouldn't complain if I gained a few more inches.
            About the only thing I was worried about was the dreams.  I still wasn't getting any more details, but every morning I awoke with feeling of unease.  I'd mentioned this to the doctor and they put some device on my head on the fifth night that was supposed to read brain waves.  They told me there was a bit more activity than expected, but nothing far out of the ordinary.  If the problem continued they would run the test next week.
            I was putting the finishing touches on today's entry when I heard a thunk from the wall with the window.  I turned around to see Ryan there, pointing downward.  My lunch had arrived.  I saved and closed the program before striding over to the row of cabinets.  Opening one revealed a tray covered in slices of cheese and apples over crackers.  Yummy.  I flashed Ryan a smile…and a bit more and took the tray back to my bed.  The show I was watching was about to hit a critical part of the current arc and I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

Night 7

           
            I awoke, but was I really awake?  My cell was never fully dark, there were always muted lights from the hallway outside.  Now though, now I was in pitch blackness.  Shakily, I got back to my feet.  By the fact I could move this was either a lucid dream or something even stranger was going on.  Even though I couldn't see a thing around me, my own naked body was perfectly visible.  I held out a hand like a blind person and took a few trial steps forward.  I didn't meet any resistance, so I added a few more feet of distance before pausing.
            On my third rally forward, my outstretched hand met something cold…something metallic.  I pressed both hands against it, could feel it, but couldn't see whatever it was.  I wrapped my hands around the darkness and tugged.  I tried to pull it away, to see what was hiding underneath.
            With an audible pop the darkness disappeared, leaving me nose to…plate with a gently curving metal wall.  It was reflective, showing me a scared reflection of myself.  I jumped and spun around to find myself trapped in a giant room ringed in the reflective metal walls.  It wasn't square, more rounded like the interior of an egg from the biggest bird imaginable.  It was familiar, and yet it wasn't.  Like I had seen something like it before, but something not exactly the same.
            My reflected visage opened her mouth wide in shock.  Wait, no she didn't.  The wall itself opened, right where her mouth had been.  And what came out…oh God, I knew what this place reminded me of.  It was a canister.  Impossibly, improbably, I was inside a giant canister. A thousand arguments flashed through my mind about how this was impossible, yet the evidence was literally staring me right in the face.
            The green gas that poured out of the hole a moment later confirmed my fears.  Flashbacks rained down in front of my eyes.  The terrible footage of what this gas had done to the recovery crews.  My own experience, running for my life with the green cloud billowing behind me.  Now I was trapped with nowhere to run, with nothing to shield myself.
            I stumbled backward, tripping over my feet.  I fell heavily on my butt, letting out a cry of pain to add to my fear.  I crawled away, only to find the gas was all around me now.  Nowhere to run, no way to fight.  I could only sit there and accept the inevitable.  I curled into a ball and waited for the end to come.
            Pinpricks of intense cold touched down on across my body.  It encircled the tips of my fingers and toes with numbness akin to sticking my hand into a snowbank.  If the snowbank was alive that is, first gently and then more insistently tugging at my limbs.  I tried to fight the cold, but I wasn't strong enough to resist.  I found myself spread eagled, completely at the mercy of my captor.
            I felt more cold on my face.  Icy tendrils caked my lips and held my eyes shut against further horrors.  Even the rims of my ears froze, cutting off what little hearing I had left.  Trapped and now totally helpless, the next touch surprised me.  Instead of cold, this time there was heat, right on my neglected flower.  I struggled in my bonds, to tear away what was touching me in such a private place.  They held fast.  I was unable even to crack an eyelid to see the shape of my attacker.
            Yet…it wasn't quite an attack.  Whatever was attacking me was running itself around my inner lips.  It swirled in intricate patterns, preventing me from predicting the next surge of heat.  I felt another spot of warmth around my asshole.  This time though, I didn't fight it.  I welcome it.  My rapidly blanking mind welcomed the additional pleasure, craved it.  When I felt two more touches on my nipples I wanted to scream through my unmoving lips.  Against all rationality I wanted to beg the gas or whatever held me to fuck me more, fuck me harder, fuck me deeper.
            To my delight it did.  Over and over until the pleasure became too much and I screamed wordlessly and thrashed helplessly.  It was the best orgasm of my life, possibly of all human existence.  It went on and on, I needed it to go on and on…
            And that was when I woke up with a scream.  I sat up to find myself covered in sweat.  A damp pool of it surrounded me like a child’s snow angel.  I could still feel the heat of the orgasm inside me, muted under my terror.  What the hell was that?  Was it a dream?  A nightmare?
            I got out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom with only the faint hallway light as my guide.  When I made it inside I fumbled for the light switch, missing it twice before miraculously hitting it the third time.  The bright light stung my eyes and I had to blink away tears.  When the blurriness faded I looked at my reflection and screamed.

Day 8

            I let the warm water fall and cleanse away a thoroughly shitty day.  As good as it felt, the glass walls of the shower couldn't hide my new changes.  I thought I'd been prepared for something to happen.  After all, I was letting them inject me with a concentrated form of an unknown concoction.  But I was expecting to fall into a coma or spend days puking my guts up, not…this.  I held up a hand and stared at my freshly green nails.  I'm sure there are hundreds of women out there with their nails this color right now.  Only my green doesn't go away if I scrape it.  My entire nail is green, not just paint on the surface. 
            Down below, my toenails were the exact same shade of green.  If those had been my only changes, I could live with it.  I'd spent the rest of my life paying a fortune for nail paint, but that was livable.  The problem was they wasn't the only parts of my body stained green.  My nipples were the most obvious, catching my eye every time I looked down.  Further down the gates to my special place and the ring behind it were both viridian as well.  Throw in my lips, eyelids, and for some strange reason the tips of my ears and I looked like a total freak.  That or a punk rocker with a questionable favorite color.
            The color was so in your face some people stopped and stared in the corridor outside.  That or they were not expecting to see so much activity inside.  I must have spent at least six hours being poked and prodded since my unwelcome late night wake up call.  They'd taken so many sample I felt like the frog some poor high schoolers were required to take apart.  Fingernails, toenails, skin scrapings from all different parts of my body, extra scraping from affected areas, deep tissue biopsies from affected areas, blood samples, urine samples, vaginal secretions samples, stool samples….the list went on and on and on until I was too tired to stand.
            When Dr. Snyder saw I was barely standing under my own power he ordered a break.  After my horde of visitors left I lay back on the bed.  I was tired, so tired, but utterly terrified to fall back asleep.  I was afraid if I did I would wake up in the container once again.  That the gas would still be there, eager and ready to change me further.  So instead I stared at the ceiling for several hours straight.  I tried to calm my tumultuous mind by looking for interesting shapes in the ceiling material.  At best I found a few interesting squiggles, so that should tell you how well that went.
            After he deemed I had rested long enough, Dr. Snyder once again resumed testing.  Short sprints, longer dashes, and miles of walking on the treadmill.  Several new weight exercises supervised by an instructor on the other side of the glass.  In the end I was completely exhausted once again and the scientists had plenty of data to pour over.  Hopefully something in there would be the key to turning back the changes.  If lady luck wouldn't grant me that big a boon, maybe they could prevent further changes.  I don't know why, but something told me the new green paint job was only the harbinger of things to come.
            I turned off the water and let the heat wring the water from my body.  I stumbled out of the bathroom and over to my mattress.  I felt so tired, but was desperate not to give into the feeling.  I turned on the TV and searched for something lively to keep me awake.  Maybe if I spent the night half awake the dream wouldn't come back.  I could only hope.

Day 9

            "So what you're saying is you have no idea why my skin turned green?"
            Dr. Snyder shrugged.  "We have a few ideas, but nothing definitive yet.  We'll keep working on it."
            "But you have no idea if or when something else will happen to me?"
            The doctor took off her glasses, rubbed them with a scrap of cloth from his jacket, and returned them to his nose.  "Honestly, you are correct.  We are working in a completely new area of biological sciences."
            An area I "volunteered" to be a guinea pig for.  Oh joy.  "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
            "Not right now.  I'll let you know if something changes.  Otherwise just keep up with your routine."

Night 9

            When I woke up and found myself lying on a cold metal floor, a knife of panic went through my heart.  I sat up and saw I was once more trapped in the mirrored egg of a container.  "Oh no.  No no no no no."
            Of all the things I could dream about, why this place?  Why again?  Tiny holes appeared on all the walls, perforating my many reflections.  I wanted to run but clouds of gas floated in all around me.  Tendrils of it seemed to home in on my fingers and toes, grabbing them in icy grips.  Much like the last time I dreamed of this place I found myself spread eagled, thought this time it was on the floor.
            The nearest cloud of gas moved closer, right up to my face.  I struggled, panicked almost out of my mind.  Not the face, not my face.  I don't know if the gas heard my thoughts or didn't intend to go there anyway.  It drifted lower, settled around the tiny bumps of my breasts.  Waves of heat rolled over me as the gas contacted my exposed flesh.  I wanted to pull away, to stop it from changing me more.  But even without the floor trapping me in place I couldn't.  The sensation was just that amazing, that powerful.  Nerves long dormant and newly grown passed along sensations that made my brain foggy with arousal.  I should have resisted, but I couldn't.  Not when it made me feel that good.  Better and better until…oh God…
            I came, hard.  Like seeing funny colored shapes hard.  Most disappeared with a rapid succession of eye blinks.  Two however decided they wanted to stick around.  Namely, the two attached to my chest.  I had…breasts.  Well, I'd always had them.  Before, my tiny things barely met the minimum requirements.  Guys with too high a body fat ratio filled bras better than me.  Now, now what I had definitely qualified.  A tiny vain part of my mind almost wished I had a mirror so I could see them at a different angle.
            The gas wasn't satisfied with a small change.  I felt the heat build up again, fingers of it trace patterns across my tender flesh.  My orgasm several minutes later wasn't brain melting like the one before, but still way above average.  I waited another minute for my head to clear before looking down.  To my shock…horror…joy…my breasts had grown even larger.  Maybe a B to a C?  I wasn't very good with sizes.  I longed to reach up and touch them, but I was still restrained by a gas that was inexplicably solid.
            If the growth stopped there I would have been happy.  Instead the gas brought me to orgasm after orgasm, growing the flesh of my chest until my breasts reached porn star levels.  Eventually my system burned out and even ministrations on my sensitive mountains could stop me drifting back off to sleep.

Day 10

            Morning brought another frantic rush to the bathroom.  To my immense relief my breast were still the tiny a cups I'd had my entire life.  They were tender though and the flesh beneath felt off.  I told Dr. Snyder about the dream and the ache in my chest when he stopped by after breakfast.  This led to another round of sampling with me as the platter.  By the end of the day the evidence was pretty conclusive something was happening to my breasts.  The slow growth throughout the day brought me up to between a B and a C cup.  If my breasts continued to expand at the current rate I was worried what I would find in the morning.

Day 11

            I didn't wake up with mountains, much to my relief.  I still experienced rapid breast growth during the night, bring me up to the DD range.  The new day brought a whole new batch of inventively invasive procedures.  I thought that was bad, then they made me exercise.  From what I was told by my watchers, my breast were remarkably firm with little to no sag.  Even running flat out there should be relatively little movement.  I really wanted to challenge their definition of relatively, as it felt like I had a pair of water balloons sloshing around inside my shirt…if I was wearing a shirt…you know what I mean.
            I would have hated them more, but they just felt so good.  I'd never considered my body as a sexual object before.  Now I was reminded of that fact with every movement.  Having breasts that big did tend to get in the way and sleeping on my stomach was going to arc my back like a kid's slide, but you know what they say about problems.  The quality is much more important that the quantity.  My new changes were a quality I could definitely live with.

Night 11

            This time I was a lot less scared when I woke up inside the metallic sphere.  There was still a moment of panic when the gas appeared, but it passed quickly.  I was pretty sure these sequences were dreams.  Dreams that had a disturbing correlation on my daily life, but dreams none the less.  What happened to me here couldn't hurt the me in the real world.
            That's why, when the gas appeared, I didn't scream or run away.  This surprised the gas as much as the small scared part inside me.  I flowed around me as if waiting for me to make a move, but I just stood there.
            A ludicrous idea floated through my mind and out my mouth before I could stop it.  "Did you cause this?" I pointed at my huge breasts.
            As soon as I said it I felt stupid.  I was talking to a gas cloud.  A non sentient being.  A being without ears to hear me, eyes to see where I was pointing, or a mouth to respond.  And yet…I did get some kind of response.  Not words, more...emotions.  As if the cloud could only communicate with feeling and memories.  I felt a kind of acknowledgement, maybe even a touch of pride.  That should have been impossible.  This was a dream though, so I guess anything was possible.
            Once again a thought escaped my mouth before my brain could corral it.  "Are you going to do something else to me?"
            I felt…agreement….acknowledgement?  It was hard to tell.  I'm not the most emotionally conscious person at the best of times and here I am trying to Sigmund Freud a gas cloud in a dream.
            The gas made its intentions physical as it wrapped around me again.  I felt it connect to my fingers and toes.  At the gentle tugs I stood wide and that seemed to satisfy the gas.  It didn't forcibly spread eagle me at least.
            At first I thought the gas was going to go after my breasts again.  I already thought they were huge, but maybe the gas disagreed?  What would it be like to walk around with a pair of beach ball strapped to my chest?  Getting out of bed would certainly be an adventure.
            Instead the gas curled around my breasts and went after the skin underneath.  I felt two sharp pinpricks, the same sensations I got when Owen or another assistant stabbed me with the syringe.  I waited for more to happen, but nothing did.  I couldn't see what happened with my breasts in the way, so I tugged at my bindings.  My feet felt like they were trapped in a pool of jello, but the gas didn't object to me walking over to one reflective wall.
            Under my breasts I could see two small circular sections, both vibrant green.  I ran a hand over one and felt the little point stiffen to the hardness of one pencil erasers I used back in high school.  I turned around to look at the gas.  "You gave me extra nipples?"
            I sensed…happiness from my captor.  Without warning two tendrils of gas poked at my chest, right over my new nipples.  Fire burned on my torso as the gas sunk into me, more and more until it seemed the entire roomful of gas was trying to inflate me to bursting. For my part I was twitching uncontrollably as the sensation brought me to yet another mind shattering orgasm.  I collapsed to the floor as the gas continued to pour into me, but I was too far gone to notice.

Day 12

            When I woke up the next morning, I didn't run screaming to the bathroom.  I walked there, like any other person emptying their bladder first thing in the morning.  Once I was done I turned to face the mirror.  Even without looking I was pretty sure what I was going to find.  Sure enough, I was now the proud owner of two more green nipples on my chest.  They were about three inches down from the bottom of my original breasts.  A touch confirmed they both felt and made me feel the same as the set above.  I let out a sigh and prepared myself for another long day of tests.

Day 15

            I awoke yesterday after yet another canister dream to find my new nipples had small lumps hiding behind them.  Over the course of the day they grew at the same rate as my previous breast expansion.  Last night I went to be with a secondary pair of Bs.  This morning, they were all the way up to Ds.
            This additional breast growth sent my attending scientists into a tizzy.  People had been born before with odd skin tones.  Melanin imbalances were a common cause.  Or mineral imbalances.  There was a case of an entire town of blue skinned people in the Appalachians, the result of generations of silver mining.
            Likewise sudden breast growth and extra nipples were not unheard of before.  My case was on the extreme end, but not out of the realm of possibility.  But growing extra breasts, especially of this size and orientation, was practically unheard of.  I wasn't sure which part of my new accessories bugged me more, the additional tests or the increased jiggling during my daily exercise regimes.

Night 18

            Once again I found myself waking up inside the canister.  Pardon the pun, but I was getting really tired of these dreams.  Every time one happened, it heralded a new change in my body.
            As the gas swirled around me, choosing where to strike, I shook my head and begged "Please…"
            I wanted to say more, but my tumultuous emotions prevented communication any more coherent.  Unfortunately, the gas misinterpreted my plea.  Instead of stopping, it touched four new points on my lower belly.  I screamed, half in pleasure and half in terror, as yet another round of changes swept through my body.

Day 20

            They say any action, no matter how good intentioned, has consequences.  As I stood in the shower and studied my reflection in the glass walls, my consequences were laid bare for all to see.  My torso now sported eight breasts, running from just under my collarbones all the way to my crotch.  Eight DD globes that felt positively alien.  I was just thankful they hadn’t grown even bigger, there wasn’t much skin left on the front of my torso that wasn’t already covered.  I say thankful, but in reality they were terrifying.  Not just for the fact they got in the way or wiggled crazily or made it hard to sleep.  No, they scared me because I saw them as harbingers of what was to come.  I had no illusions that whatever was transforming me was done.  I might have run out of torso, but there was still plenty of body left.

Night 27

            I was so sure I was wrong.  After a week with no changes and no dreams, I finally thought whatever they had injected into me had run its course.  When I woke up inside the canister, I couldn't suppress the tears in my eyes.  I was already a freak, why did it have to make me more of one?  Sure some men would think a woman with eight breasts was sexy, but that was only on a primordial level.  Once they got their rocks off and their thinking brains returned, they would run away like I was the devil.
            As I sat there, curled up in my depression, the gas swirled around me.  I sensed confusion coming from it.  It couldn't understand why I wasn't happy with my changes.
            "They scare me.  I'm scared of what's to come."
            The gas wrapped around me like a warm blanket, a parent trying to comfort a child.  I felt warm tingling run through the breasts on my chest.  This was joined by eight more warm spots on my back.  I didn't need to look to see what was happening there.  I didn't want to move at all.  I just wanted to sit there and enjoy the feeling of peace and harmony flooding in from all around me.

Day 30

            "This is truly unprecedented." Dr. Snyder said.  We were talking through the window, the good doctor relaying the results of my most recent round of tests.  "All eight of your most recent breasts are functioning perfectly.  X-rays and CAT scans show nothing but healthy tissue.  They show higher than normal concentrations of the mixture we injected you with, but otherwise we have no idea what caused the growths.  Some of the team are requesting an entire breast for study."
            I shuddered.  "You want to cut off one of my breasts?"
            "More than one, if possible.  Removing all the ones on your back to start.  That should allow you to sleep easier and give the research teams all the samples they need."
            "No."  If someone told me a handful of weeks ago that I would actually come to like my strange growths, I would have thought them crazy.  But after several nights in the canister, the gas gently nurturing them to life, I saw them differently.  My multitude of breasts weren't disfigurements.  They were…gifts.  That was the best way I could think of to describe them.  Gifts from the thing inside me.  And now the people keeping me in this cage wanted to take them all away.  "Please no."
            "I'm sorry Ms. Parker, but you don't have a choice.  The papers you signed before the test gave us full authority to perform any tests we desired.  The only limitation is we couldn't cause direct death of the patient."  Up to this point I had liked Dr. Snyder, but his words chilled me in ways even the gas couldn't match.  Direct death?  So they couldn't cut off my head, but pulling pieces out of me until I died of organ failure was acceptable?  How could I explain these breasts were a part of me now, that losing even a single one killed off a small part of me?
            The answer was I couldn't.  Not without sounding insane.  I stopped talking with the doctor about my canister dreams after he dismissed them as stress induced nightmares.  If he knew I was still having them, that they were somehow controlling my changes, how would he react?  I didn't know the exact answer, but whatever it was couldn't be in my best interest.
            I heard the hiss as the door to my cell opened in the bathroom.  I had nowhere to run and even with my well exercised muscles couldn't see myself successfully fighting off one of the suited assistants.  With no flight and no fight I was left to impotently stare at my faint reflection in the glass.  My eight breasts in front, newly enlarged by at least a cup size apiece.  The eight on my back, their mirrors in size and location.  As I followed the suited figure meekly from the room, I knew I would never see at least some of them again.

Night 33

            This time when I awoke in the canister, I was crying for a different reason.  "They took them." I told the swirling ball of gas.  "They cut me open and took them away from me."
            I reached around and gently touched my mutilated back.  In the real world it was still swaddled in bandages, is if hiding what happened could make it not real.  In here, in my nightmare turned refuge, the bandages were gone.  I could feel thick lines, jagged stretches of scar tissue.  I got to my feet and stumbled over to one of the mirror reflective walls.
            I had to crane my neck around to look, but the eight angry red lines that scarred my back were readily visible.  Grave markers for the lost.  I hugged the breasts on my chest tighter.  In the brief periods of lucidity after the surgery, I'd heard the doctors discuss removing them as well.  Called them a cancer, even though Dr. Snyder had said they were perfectly healthy.
            "I'm so sorry." I told the gas.  "You gave them to me and I wasn't strong enough to keep them.  I'm so sorry."
            The gas behind me swirled faster, as if caught in a strong breeze.  The poofy and shapeless form condensed downward until it took on a humanoid outline.  Thick, pillowy sections that could have been arms and legs connected to another line forming the torso.  Atop that a head that was nothing more than a giant ball.  A child's stick figure come to life.
            In the reflective surface of the wall I saw it take one hesitant step toward me, then another.  It only stopped when there were scant inches between its front and my back.  Instead of anger, the gas shared my sadness.  It pushed into me, a burning warmth from my butt to my shoulders.  It wrapped it's arms around my chest, the heat there a fragment of what burned on my back but still comforting and pleasant.  For the first time I got more than emotions from the gas.  There were…words.  What was lost…can always...be found….
            "And if I want more than what I lost?"  The question was driven by an impulsive part of my brain, but the rest of me didn't object.  As crazy as it sounded I wanted more.  To be less human and more…whatever I was becoming.
            The gas was back to using emotions, ones of happiness and joy.  Its humanoid form broke apart as it wrapped around me like a coat.  I felt the heat on my back travel upward to consume my neck and head.  The skin melted and shifted in the heat, reforming into something unseen but undoubtedly wonderful.
            "More, I want more." I gasped as I felt alternating hot and cold tendrils play over my tender places.  The tweaking of my nipples ceased and I felt the gas focus on my ass and vagina.  The warmth on both drove me new heights of arousal.  Right as I was on the very of cumming I thought I felt them…move.  Both openings slid down between my legs, each inch sending out new and wonderful sensations.  When they touched those sensations magnified by a thousand fold.  How I desperately wished I could see my vagina and asshole merge into my new cloacae.  I would have to be satisfied with the sensations, which were driving me into one of the amazing orgasms that only these dreams could supply.
            Every inch of my skin felt splendidly sensitive and the gas played me like an instrument through orgasm after orgasm until I could finally take no more and sunk back into the blackness of sleep.

Day 34

            I awoke the next morning far happier than I had been in the last week.  I got out of bed and bounded toward the bathroom to see if there were any changes.  Instead of dreading them, I was actually looking forward to finding something new and different on my body.  I was disappointed though, everything looked the same.
            As I turned to go back to bed something did catch my eye though.  A single strand of hair in the sink below the mirror.  Had that been there last night?  I ran a hand through my chin length hair and several more strands fell to the sink.  Where this would have caused a normal person to freak out, I smiled giddily to myself in the mirror.

Day 35
           

            I continued to lose my hair yesterday until by the time I went to bed I was totally bald.  Not just on my head; my arms, legs, and torso lost what little body hair they had as well.  Even my eyebrows made suicide jumps to freedom.  Waking up today and rubbing my hands over my perfectly smooth dome felt strange but also highly erotic.  More of my canvas was now free for the gas to leave its mark on.
            Today was also the day for the removal of the bandages on my back.  I was lying face down on a table in the multi-purpose room next to my cell (the one they used for surgery only days before).  My arms and legs were loosely restrained by cuff and chains.  I had promised to be good, but after my tantrum last time Dr. Snyder's assistants weren't taking any chances.
            As the top of the bandages came off I heard gasps from the people above me.  I knew what they were seeing, had been shown by my gaseous dream companion.  After discovering the cloud in my dreams was something more, something…intelligent, I decided I needed to give my companion a name.  Though there was no hint of gender, I decided it…she should be female.  Searching for name ideas my brain latched onto the green color of the gas.  I called her Emerald and my dream companion loved it.
            All thought the night she consoled me.  She rubbed little circles on my back where my breast had been and would grow again.  It was arousing, but not orgasmically.  Instead it was a calming heat that released all my built in tension.  Before she bid me to wake up, Emerald showed me the buds growing out of the cuts on my back.
            That was what the doctors were seeing now.  They pulled the sheet away to reveal eight brand new nipples with small lumps already forming beneath them.  I heard faint cursing and felt hands on my back, taking even more samples.  My smile went unseen, squashed into the padding of the table.  The doctors had realized they couldn't take my gifts away from me.

Day 36

            "I'm afraid these changes are permanent." Dr. Snyder told me somberly.  As if I hadn't already figured that out for myself.  "We suspected there might be…unforeseen elements in this experiment, but I don't think anyone expected something like this.  I'm…sorry."
            I grinned back at him.  "I'm not.  I feel better than I have in forever."  I used one hand to pinch the nipple of my upper left breast, while the other groped the one above my right butt cheek.  If possible, they had gotten even more sensitive lately.  In between tests and exercise, the time I used to waste watching tv or reading, I now spent playing with my new accessories.  Not enough to orgasm…not enough to frequently orgasm….not enough to frequently explosively orgasm, but enough.
            "You do realize something major is happening to you, don't you Ms. Parker?  That you're becoming…less than human?"
            Or possibly more.  But I didn't say that, only nodded and smiled widely.
            If this unnerved Dr. Snyder, his excellent poker face hid it.  "We can’t stop or reverse the changes, but we might be able to predict them.  We'll continue taking daily samples.  With luck, we might find a pattern and be able to give you a few days to prepare yourself for the changes."  With that the doctor turned and walked away.
            As he went I was tempted to tell him I already knew where the next set of changes would occur.  Emerald had shown me last night.  I had put my head into the humanoid gas cloud's lap while she stroked my neck and bald head.  Already I could feel the seed of those breasts planted, waiting for the proper conditions to grow.  I rubbed my head, searching for any hints, but it was as bald as ever.  Soon I hoped, that would no longer be the case.

Day 38

            "Inexplicable, you actually seem to like them."
            I ignored Dr. Snyder and kept playing with my wonderful new head breasts.  The two largest and fattest grew out of the back of my head and covered my neck.  Two move covered the crown of my head while the last pair squatted up front like a set of spherical horns.  As for Dr. Snyder's commend, why wouldn't I like them?  They made me feel so good.  I just wished I could make them feel as good in the real world as Emerald did in the dream one.  She had…proto-hands now, a half dozen tentacles at the end of each arm.  The feeling when she massaged my new head breasts with those fingers was…heavenly.
            The fingers weren't Emerald's only development.  When I wished to test out my dream form's cloacae, she had grown…I guess you would call it a penis.  It was in the right shape and cylindrical, but the tip was egg shaped and Emerald had prehensile control over it.  When she vibrated it inside me it felt so impossibly good.  I only wished I had my cloacae in the real world.  My pussy and asshole were on the move, but still had an inch to go before they touched and merged.  Even now I could feel my insides tingling in anticipation, my organs re-arranging to properly use the sole lower hole I would have.  Ok, I couldn't actually feel my organs move, but the scans they were making me take every few hours told the story clearly enough.
            I wondered if I could talk Dr. Snyder into letting me have some new toys once my cloacae was fully grown in.  Situated between my legs made the angle a bit hard to play with for long.  If he was reluctant, maybe I could use some of my new oral skills to convince him.  Emerald seemed to like it when I practiced on her pseudo-cock.  She even leaked a little gas when I found the right places, making my lips tingle splendidly.  Even though it was only early afternoon I couldn't wait until it was bedtime so I could go and visit my…I guess the best way to describe Emerald would be my lover.  How I learned to stop worrying and love the gas sounds like a bad movie parody, but I found a connection between us that was impossible to describe otherwise.  She comforted me when I was down and made me feel better when I was up.  Emerald wasn't much of a conversationalist yet, but I was working with her on that every night.  I was already working up tonight's lesson.  I was definitely going to start with "I love you."