How I Conquered The Earth Chapter 13: The Guys They Are A'Changin!, an invader zim fanfic

A/N: WARNING! This chapter contains extreme gore that is of such a mind-fucking quality that young children and really, should-be-dead-by-now, old people should not read because it will probably scar them for the rest of they're lives. Other than that, ENJOY!

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Chapter 13

THE GUYS THEY ARE A-CHANGIN'

Dib hadn't been able to sleep that night. He'd tried to pick the lock on his room hours ago, but to no avail. All he had to do was think about what he'd done. It was ironic that Dib was in almost the exact position Byron had been a short while ago. He contemplated what he'd done and what was happening now.

Dib's changes were far less drastic and paced. Over the past six hours all he'd achieved was a healthy green color and one big, red eye. He still had a ways to go, but it was progress, but at the moment, he looked like the kind of monstrous creature he would have happily chased down a dark ally just the day before. Now, what was he? What would become of him? HE fathomed that once this was over, they'd probably kill him, regardless of if he cooperated or not. It wasn't like Zim would be hesitant to be rid of his arch nemesis for the rest of forever.

Dib could then hear footsteps outside his room and he tensed. As the lock clicked, for s split-second, Dib thought about hiding under his bed. He just knew it was Zim or Byron. They'd come to kill him! Hadn't they?

Instead, the form that stood in the door was that of a young, fifteen-year-old girl with purple hair.

"Hey, Dib," the Goth girl said feebly. She wasn't sorry for what she'd done, but she wanted to come check on her brother. She'd never admit it, but deep down inside, she loved him more than anyone else on Earth, but not quite as much as the other man in here life.

Dib sat in his cell defiantly silent. He just stared at her with his normal eye and the other large, red one. He fought back his tears valiantly, and for the moment, he was winning.

Gaz walked into the room and locked the door behind her. She looked sadly down at Dib and sat on the bed next to him. "I'm sorry, Dib," she whispered.

"For what, fucking an alien!" He yelled at her. He restrained the urge to slap her right across the face. 'How long has she been fooling around behind my back? How long have THEY been together?' he thought to himself. How could some one like himself, who sees everything unnatural in the world, miss his sister's affair with that damn alien from down the street?

Gaz arched an eyebrow and noticed his voice had gone up a few pitches. Then her expression melted into anger and she fire back, "NO! I'm not sorry for that! Quit being a little bitch about it and get over it," she paused for a minute to compose herself. "I'm sorry this had to happen, but… You know what, fuck you! If this is how you're going to act, I'm going back to Zim's room," she stated the last part with great emphasis in order to strike that tender little nerve in Dib's large head that she so keenly aimed for.

"But I…" he tried to say.

"Shut up, your voice is stupid!" She slammed the door in his face and the lock clanged shut. She poked her face up in the viewing window and yelled, "And just so you know, we DO IT whenever we possibly can and it's FANTASTIC!"

Dib was left speechless by Gaz's latter statement. He sat there, a million different thoughts tumbling around in his head like a giant, unnaturally large washing machine, completely dumbstruck and without a single plan. He had absolutely no idea what to do. He decided the only thing he could really do was to sit back and see what happens. He lay down on his bed and tried to drift off into a sleep. His changes were continually becoming more evident.

Meanwhile, back in the lab, Byron continued to thrash about on the floor in pain. It was like he was being eaten alive by a pack of rabid moose, and he almost wished that was the fact so his mind-splitting pain would end. His hands fervently grasped at his head as he continued to chomp on the belt in yet another attempt not to scream. Tears poured from his eyes like he had a wide-open faucet painfully embedded under each eyelid. He felt sick, like he was going to vomit, like he was going to regurgitate his entire digestive track, and he felt like his entire body was going to rip apart into a nasty, sticky mess of human-stink organs. Now, one part of his hazy mind was cursing him for what he'd done, and the other part was trying to tell him that once this was done he'd be happy again. It would be over soon. It had to be, or he knew he was going to die as this grotesque, half-formed thing slumped out on the floor of the lab. This thought filled him with more fear than the actual process.

Suddenly, the pain stopped. Byron sat up in confusion and opened his eyes, half expecting to see that it was done. He was so wrong. He looked down to find his still pallor, white skin on his arms. He silently cursed under his breath until he looked closer. On a more in depth investigation he noticed that the tiny, blue blood vessels that run up and down his arm were an odd shade of green. They looked like the old, twisting workings of vines that climb up the side of an old house.

A cold feeling settle over him and he began to shiver and grasp at himself in a fruitless attempt for warmth. His teeth started to chatter on the belt and his body went numb. Then at a rapid pace, things began to progress. His heart started pounding again and a pain settled in his head. He was submerged into a sea of writhing agony as the change set in. Blood was now rushing and pounding in Byron's ears. He couldn't hear anything anymore. He was in such excruciating pain that he bit his belt into several soggy pieces of leather. He crawled over to a counter to prop himself up against and didn't notices the sickly crunching and popping sound that were coming from beneath his clothes.

When Byron would look back on this moment later, he would remember and laugh at how much his own transformation resembled the one in "American Werewolf in London", the irony being this was one of his favorite films. Disgusting sounds slowly, like an orchestra warming up for an overture by Tchaikovsky, began to fill the air and increase in their frequency. Bones began popping, tendons tearing, organs grinding and churning. Every tissue in his body was converting. Muscles shredded apart and grew again and all the little, squishy things he had for guts were rearranging themselves. He clenched his fists so hard that blood, green in it's color, began to seep out of the palms of his hands. His legs stuck out in front of him shaking and trembling; causing his boots to loudly thump against the floor.

Byron didn't know how much more of this he could take before he passed out. He reached a hand up to cover his mouth, in an attempt to stifle his retching, and noticed that instead of his usual amount of fingers, he had three. Three green, claw-like digits stared him in the face. He gave them an experimental wiggle and he smiled at how beautiful they were. His smile quickly deteriorated and then he leaned over and projectile vomited his entire digestive track, and a few other choice organs, into a waste receptacle.

He looked in unbridled horror at the pile of pulsing organs in the can. 'I should be dead! How can this be?' he thought. He didn't realize what had happened, but his body had purged all of the unnecessary organs and, as I narrate to you, began to develop the proper Irken organs. Byron realized this shortly after and laid his claws on his stomach, "I've got a Squeedly spooch," he slurred as excess drool, from all the pain, oozed from his mouth.

A funny, tingling sensation spread across the top of his head. Byron reached his pair of tentative claws up to investigate his scalp. What they came back with were two handfuls of hair. He reached up again to find the same result. He briskly brushed the rest of the hair off the top of his head and felt around the top of his, now smooth, head. He soon found two nubs quickly budding under the skin on the top of his head. And so, without further ado, two long, black antennae punctured the green flesh atop his cranium and rose proudly into sticky and shiny existence. With a rush of sound, Byron's hearing returned along with a burning pain in his head. His screams could be heard buy the poor little boy who had moved in next door to Zim after his parents decided it best to get away from the "Johnny kid".

Squee sat up in his bed and looked around his dark bedroom. He reached next to his nightstand and grabbed his trusty flashlight. Little Squee turned it on and pulled his piggy blanket up around his head in fear.

As the screams declined in their volume, Squee's mother charged into the room and yelled, "Squee, shut up and go to bed! If I hear another agonized scream filled with suffering beyond anything man could ever imagine, I'm going to give you something to really scream about!"

Squee frantically turned off his flashlight and ducked under his covers. "Okay."

"Damn right!" She slammed the door and Squee was left alone in the dark once again. Somehow, his mother hadn't noticed the tall, slender boy with the strange hair and deadly looking knives perched coolly in the window. I would like to say that Johnny burst through the window dramatically and saved Squee from his wretched family, but that would require me to deviate from the plot that is already at hand. So, that's all I have to say about that!

Byron was, at that moment, whilst Squee was being rescued by Johnny, experiencing another paused moment without any pain. He sat there, trying to enjoy the new feeling his body was sending to his brain. He leaned forward and removed a boot from his foot. Just like his hands, his right foot was a long, green extension of flesh and bone with three digits on the end. He gave his new toes a playful wiggle and tried to stand up.

He was knocked off his feet by another racking explosion of pain. He grasped at the edge of the counter hopelessly as he plummeted back to the floor. His hopes of getting to a mirror and looking at his results fell with him.

The bones in his face felt like they had melted into a malleable substance. The structure began to reform itself into that of a noble Irken's. He emitted another scream that scared Squee even more and made Johnny crack a freakish smile.

"I like this neighborhood," quipped Johnny, "Come, Squee! Let us embark on our journey into a brave new world!"

"Okay, Mr. Scary-neighbor-boy," Squee whimpered and tried to wipe the blood off his bunny slippers as they climbed out the window.

Byron's nostrils sealed up and his nose disappeared. His skull lengthened and thinned all of his teeth began to fall out with great succession; they were rapidly replaced by the zipper-like teeth that Zim so proudly bared at anyone who dared to defy him.

The change only took a total of six minutes. It had occurred with such rapidity and searing pain, that soon after, Byron passed out from utter and complete physical and mental exhaustion. His changes almost totally complete, he slumped over on the floor. Where a normal human boy had been, now rested a drooling Irken.

A/N: So, did you all like? I couldn't help but give Johnny and Squee a little cameo. Anyway, please leave a review and tell me what you think. Thank you.