The unchosen - feral sexcrazed shiki mutants

Bryce grabs Cortney’s wrist, his grip tight as the music pulses louder, the bass vibrating through the floor. Around them, the audience members begin peeling off their clothes, their movements jerky and unnatural, like puppets pulled by invisible strings. A woman near them tears her blouse open, her eyes glazed over, while a man beside her unbuckles his belt with mechanical precision. "Shit, shit, shit—" Bryce mutters, yanking Cortney backward as two strangers lock together in a frenzied embrace, their mouths crashing together hungrily. The air reeks of sweat and something sickly sweet, like rotting fruit.

Continuation: Bryce barely has time to react before Cortney’s hands clutch the front of his shirt, dragging him down to her level. Her lips crash into his—hard, desperate, tasting of salt and fear. He stumbles back a step, but she follows, her teeth grazing his bottom lip as the crowd’s chanting swells into a feverish roar around them. The music pulses, a relentless throb that syncs with the writhing bodies on stage. One of the masked performers turns their head too far—too far—neck cracking audibly, yet they keep moving, hands roaming over their chosen partner with grotesque hunger.

Bryce’s breath hitches as Cortney’s fingers dig into his shoulders—her touch fever-hot, her pupils blown wide with something unnatural. The scent hits him next: thick, cloying, like jasmine and musk laced with decay. Flora secta arroma—the thought flickers through his panic before the smell coils deeper into his lungs, dragging a shuddering gasp from him. Around them, the crowd’s moans rise in pitch, bodies slick with sweat as they press closer. A woman near the stage tears at her own hair, giggling as she licks the sweat from another’s collarbone.

Bryce staggers back as Cortney's nails rake down his chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The music swells, a distorted carnival waltz now, as three new masked figures slither into the crowd—their porcelain faces cracked at the edges, revealing glimpses of glistening flesh beneath. One with antlers sprouting from its temple grabs a sobbing man by the hair, licking the tears from his cheeks while another, its mask stitched shut with rusted wire, presses itself between two twitching women. Cortney moans against Bryce’s mouth, her hips grinding into his as the scent thickens—sweet rot, burning sugar. He tastes it on her tongue.

Bryce’s vision swims as the scent clogs his throat—too sweet, too thick—like syrup poured down his windpipe. Cortney’s breath hitching in a way that isn’t normal. Behind her, the antlered performer sinks elongated fangs into the sobbing man’s throat, but instead of blood, blackened honey oozes from the wound, dripping onto the writhing crowd below. A woman near the stage arches backward, her scream dissolving into a guttural moan as her canines split her gums, lengthening as her pupils bleed into crimson. Marks on her breast

pulse like living ink, twisting into thorned vines that slither down her ribs. Bryce feels Cortney's heartbeat hammering against his own chest— fast, irregular—as her tongue traces the shell of his ear The antlered figure releases its victim with a wet pop, strings of honey-thick fluid stretching between its teeth and the man's gaping throat.

Bryce’s fingers tangle in Cortney’s hair as she arches against him, her body moving with his. The scent—thick as melted wax—clings to their skin, seeping into their pores. Around them, the crowd convulses in grotesque ecstasy, more and more being turned into unchosen by the performers, or at least thats what they keep chanting exceot when actually biting someone. A man near the stage vomits blackened petals onto the floor, his throat bulging as something writhes beneath his skin. The antlered figure licks honey from its fingers, then turns its hollow-eyed gaze toward Bryce and Cortney.

Continuation: Bryce’s breath comes in ragged gasps as Cortney’s nails dig into his forearms, her pupils dilated, reflecting the flickering stage lights like twin pools of ink. The scent—thick, floral, rotting—fills his lungs, making his head swim. He tries to pull away, but her grip tightens, her lips parting in a moan that isn’t entirely her own. Behind them, the man with the antlers tilts his head too far—too wrong—his neck bending at an impossible angle as he steps forward, his elongated fingers twitching with unnatural hunger. Bryce feels Cortney’s body stiffen against him, her breath hitching as the creature’s shadow falls over them. The air thrums with the sound of tearing fabric and wet, gasping moans as more of the crowd succumb—skin splitting to accommodate fangs, nails lengthening into claws. One of the stitched-mask performers drags its tongue along the curve of a woman’s shoulder, leaving behind a glistening trail of something dark and syrupy.

Bryce’s pulse hammers in his throat as the antlered figure looms closer, its breath a sickly-sweet gust against his cheek. Cortney’s grip on him tightens—as a shudder wracks her body. Bryce’s vision blurs at the edges, the crowd’s frenzied movements melting into a single, undulating mass of grasping limbs and bared teeth. The stitched-mask performer suddenly lurches forward, its rusted wire seams splitting with a wet snap as it seizes Cortney’s free arm.Bryce barely has time to shout before the creature’s clawed fingers hook into the fabric of her shirt—and with one vicious jerk, the seams tear apart. Cortney gasps as the ruined cloth falls away, baring her skin and bare breasts to the thick, honeyed air. The performer’s breath rasps, its stitched lips peeling back to reveal two six inch needle-thin teeth. Bryce grabs for her, but the crowd surges around them—bodies slick with sweat and blackened nectar, hands grasping, mouths hungry, naked, some arleady turned others won't be long before those that are turn , takes them.

The needle-thin fangs sink into Cortney’s shoulder with a sickening pop of punctured flesh. She arches against Bryce, in pleasure her mouth open in a soundless moan as the blackened honey spills from the wound, thick and glistening. Bryce shoving forward, but the crowd is a living wall—bodies slick, writhing, changing. A woman beside him convulses, something dark and twitching forces its way beneath her skin.

Bryce staggers back as the woman beside him collapses, her spine arching unnaturally as black veins spreading along her body The antlered figure’s fingers curl around Cortney’s bare waist, its needle-teeth still buried in her shoulder. She gasps, her body trembling—not in pain, but in rapture, her eyes rolling back as the venom pulses through her veins., his claws going to her jeans.Bryce’s vision swims as the writhing mass of bodies around him twist and convulse—no longer human, no longer anything close. Their moans turn guttural, ravenous, fingers clawing at each other with mindless lust The scent of decay and nectar thickens, choking him as the newly turned creatures rut against one another, fangs glistening with blackened drool. The performers watch from the edges, their cracked porcelain masks unreadable, their movements deliberate—predators among the frenzied, slavering herd.Bryce’s muscles lock as the antlered creature’s claws shred through Cortney’s jeans, the denim peeling away like wet parchment. Her breath hitches—not in protest, but in twisted anticipation—as the thing’s elongated fingers press against the feverish heat between her thighs. A guttural snarl rips from Bryce’s throat. He lunges, fingers scrabbling for the broken neck of a liquor bottle glinting amid the trampled debris. The crowd surges, a tide of half-transformed bodies, their skin splitting like overripe fruit as new, glistening appendages burst forth—spined tails, barbed tongues, too many joints in grasping limbs.

Bryce’s fingers close around the jagged bottle neck just as Cortney’s back arches. Her moan shatters into something inhuman as her skin ripples, dark veins branching beneath the surface like spreading ink. The antlered creature withdraws its fangs with a slick pop, black honey dripping from Cortney’s wound as her flesh knits itself Her fingers spasm, nails darkening into talons , like some the others a barbed tal extends from. Her tail bone. Her eyes pitch black, her feet become black and three clawed.Bryce's fingers tighten around the broken glass as Cortney's transformation completes—her spine elongating slightly her new barbed tail lashing through the air like a whip. The antlered creature releases her, its porcelain mask splitting vertically as its mouth unhinges, revealing rows of needle teeth dripping with black nectar. Cortney turns toward Bryce, her pitch-black eyes reflecting no light, only hunger. Her clawed fingers twitch, fresh talons glistening with the same syrupy venom that pulses through her veins. The crowd presses closer, their mutated bodies slick with sweat and ichor, their moans rising to a fevered crescendo. "Unchosen" the antlered performer hisses.