This was my first fic ever. A good number of years have passed since I first posted this. My writing has improved dramatically since then, so I will be updating this fic, adding more detail and generally doing an overhaul of the story to bring it up to my current standard. Please write me a review, I would be most grateful if you will.

He remembered the accident vividly as if it had happened only days before instead of 50 years ago. He had been working on his thesis for the last three years and it all came down to this moment, this one experiment. If it was successful the name Dr. Nathaniel Wallis would be a household name, proving his worth to the world and the scientific community once and for all. If not it would break him.

His hands quivered for a moment as they hovered over the bottle of liquefied uranium 234. He held it up to the light for a moment, the liquid glowing oddly through the brown glass container. He would proceed as he had done before. First, inject the specimen and then measure the outcome. He had done this part a thousand times before, he could have done it in his sleep if he liked. He took a syringe out of the sterile-pack, as he held the bottle upside down. He exhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves and stop his hand from shaking. They had called him a "Quack", saying that his brilliant experiment was "Nothing more than a sick man's last-ditch attempt to stave off death".

The words stung even as they echoed in his head

"Your sick Nathan. Your mind, it's going quicker than you're body" They had uttered in harsh whispers.

"You've gone mad my friend. You can try to find your cure but there is no cure for your genetics and this will be the death of you" Those words had hurt the most. Just the memory felt like stones were being thrown at him. As he was betrayed by his dearest colleague, who happened to be his oldest and only friend.

"They'll see they'll all see, not to make a fool out of Dr. Nathaniel Wallis! They'll see who the quack is and that you can't ever crush a cockroach mwhahahahaha". The man said laughing manically in a way that made him sound utterly insane. There was a satisfying hissing sound as he stabbed the needle down with conviction, the hollow point piercing the foil lid before greedily gulping up the liquid until the syringe was filled. Its contents glowed with a strange almost unreal chartreuse green hue that was quite hypnotic to look at. He flicked the tip of the needle with his index finger to ensure that no bubbles of air were present. Before he went to retrieve his latest and hopefully last subject.

The lab was a perfect cornucopia of mess; papers were flowing out of draws and spilling along the floor. Test tubes lay on their sides spilling various substances across tables. Leaving small bugs to stick fast in the viscose solution as if being encased in amber. He didn't seem to notice this or he chose to ignore it, going straight towards a large glass tank that was attached to the back wall. It was the type of tank you would expect to find an iguana or some other type of exotic lizard in. Yet, instead, the tank crawled with insects. Each bug was incredibly large, hinting at the fact that they were either an incredibly large giant breed or there was some type of mutation involved.

The man opened the small plastic hatch and quickly grasped one of the specimens holding it tightly in his hand before quickly shutting the hatch again with a click. He examined the Insect in his hand which happened to be the largest of all the cockroaches in the tank. He quickly returned back to his workbench, sending yet more papers flying with the push of an elbow; so he could have more room. He placed the roach down inside a Petri dish before applying sticky tape to the thorax to hold the specimen still. It squirmed trying to get free. Obviously disliking the fact that it was on its back immobilised. It knew what would happen next.

All the bugs had seen the medical papers and various case studies that lined the walls like a macabre and wordy jigsaw puzzle. That along with the pinned corpses of their dead friends. Which had somehow been preserved, so that their tiny bodies didn't rot away in the little glass display cases. They had all heard the tales of how they would be captured by invisible barriers. Held hostage for days or weeks on end as ugly, fleshy creatures ogled them relentlessly. All bugs knew that death would come for them rather quickly after that. A silver spear slicing through the air. It would only take seconds to stab you in the thorax before you would find yourself being pinned to parchment paper as the life drained from your body.

The cockroach would have shuddered if it could as it saw the infamous needle come straight for it. Though it still couldn't move, being bound by the tape. Yet it hissed and screeched as it tried to get away. It was no use though, the needle pierced the thick exoskeleton of the roach as if it was made of warm butter.

The bug saw its little life flash before its eyes and a moment of realisation hit the insect. He realised that he had enjoyed his life of eating garbage, living in the darkness and making love to all the roachetts that came his way. He still didn't want to die but at least his life hadn't been a total waste. He looked down as he felt a warm sensation fill his body like he had been dipped in melting ooze. Yet, the feeling was coming from the needle as he was being injected with something. He wasn't sure what it was; his limited insect mind was unable to process the enormity of the part he was playing for the good of science. All the roach knew was that the warm feeling inside him made him feel peculiar and yet at the same time strangely powerful. His antenna twitched wildly and his many legs kicked as the syringe was at last pulled out of his abdomen and the tape was ripped off his shell painfully. He tried to run but, felt warm hands stinking of chemicals and flesh, trap him, before releasing him into a separate chamber. This one was equipped with the same invisible force field he could not climb. "I'm bleeding," the roach thought to itself as it looked down to see blood oozing out of the wound along with a sticky substance that had a strange green glow about it.

Meanwhile, Dr Wallis paced the lab nervously. Stomping over papers and anything else that happened to be in his way. He cared for nothing but the result; even as he spluttered, bringing a handkerchief to his lips where it was stained with thick crimson mucus it still didn't matter. Soon, he would be free of all this. Yet he couldn't help but look down at his sickly body in disgust. He was a thin man whose sunken eyes and general gaunt exterior would have reminded one of a corpse, except that he was still alive but only just.

"Come on Nate hold yourself together now, it's only an hour and then you can finally be rid of this putrid mortal shell". He muttered to himself his strong English accent only just about audible over the rasping in his throat. The very air he breathed was poisoning his body and this was painfully obvious. Every word was an effort, as his fluid-filled lungs fought with all their might for another breath. Another whisper of contaminated air to keep on going. As it was, he had to wear a respirator when outside to keep the majority of the air-born pathogens at bay but even then he wasn't safe. The world it seems was out to kill the brilliant man cursed and yet at the same time gifted with a rare chromosomal mutation. It would seem that this extra feature to his genetic profile was the root of both his incredible intellect and yet at the same time the fragility of his body. He knew in his heart of hearts that his body would be the death of him, but perhaps his brain would be one step ahead of the game so he could cheat in his final hour.

He coughed again and a distressingly moist, rattling wheeze came out of his chest along with copious amounts of blood. He had already seen the Reaper many times in his youth. Suffering from a rare immunodeficiency he had been at its door many times. Yet it had never really been like this; there had always been a glimmer of hope. Some wonder drug would come along just in the nick of time and save him from the void. Many of these drugs he had concocted himself. In the battle to find a permanent fix for his corrupted genetic coding. However, it never lasted long and was just another in a long line of quick fixes to stave off death for another month or so. Now it seemed he was out of time once and for all. There were no more quick fixes, no more wonder drugs to slap on as a band-aid. Either his experiment worked or he would die, it was as simple. So he felt as if he was playing on a knife's edge the slightest incongruence could push him over the edge into the waiting abyss. It frustrated him to no end that his IQ couldn't be accurately measured with normal tests and yet the common cold could kill him. He growled angrily, gripping the smooth silver handle of the cane he used to walk with even more tightly than before. Making the paper-thin skin of his knuckles turn white with the effort.

It shouldn't be like this, he shouldn't be limited like this. He had so much potential in the world and he hated the fact that he was being limited by something as simple as biology. The silver handle of the otherwise smart black cane bit into his palm terribly until it drew blood. At which point Nathan threw it off to one side with a loud roar of frustration. It only took him a few seconds to realise that his last move had been a big mistake; his legs began to feel as if they were made of jelly and his knees wobbled threatening to buckle under his weight. He cursed to himself sitting down on a nearby stool to stop the shaking in his legs. He couldn't collapse, not now, not when he was so near to completing his experiment.

He fiddled with an object in the pocket of the lab coat he always wore. It had originally been a brilliant starch white but the years of wear and various chemical spills meant that the coat was now a rather unappetizing dirty yellowish grey. His fingers closed on cold metal and a small click came from his pocket before he bought out a circular object. It was a very old and rather abused-looking pocket watch that had a glass panel in the back so you could see the turning of the cogs and spring laden mechanism as it ticked along happily. Not that he needed to see the internal pieces of the watch to know how it worked or how one would go about making one. He had made this one from the salvaged parts of a broken Victorian pocket watch he had found years before. His fingertips danced over the glass panel tracing each of the cogs as they moved before there was another small click as he pressed the crown of the watch to open the cover. He examined the time and tutted to himself, turning the watch over and over again in his hands nervously.

He went on with this little routine, turning the watch over in his hands before opening it every few minutes until finally, the hour was up. He upped from where he was sitting and shuffled over to where he had discarded his cane. He had barely made it across the room on his own without collapsing. He straightened up and lent on the can heavily, grateful that it had survived its impromptu trip across the room. He steadied himself for a moment letting the vertigo that always plagued him to pass. As soon as he felt stable on his feet again he began searching for something in the draws of his workbench. He grunted slightly as he frantically searched before pulling out a piece of rubber tubing. Which had originally attached a Bunsen burner to the gas tap in the lab.

"Yes this will do nicely," he thought to himself wrapping it around the hand that was holding the cane. After another few minutes, he bought out a small square packet that contained sterilizing wipes and a fresh syringe already fittede with its needle. A wicked smile formed on the man's face making his moustache curl up delightfully at the corners. He moved back over to the stool and sat down on it again, shifting slightly so he was facing his workbench. Once he was comfortable he reached over the desk. Retrieving the large jar that contained the ill-fated cockroach that had become his test subject. He wasn't surprised to see that the insect had tripled in size in the last hour. Even as he watched he could see its exoskeleton ripple and grow, becoming larger and tougher. He would need to act fast if the previous specimen was anything to go by. By hour 1.5 it has stopped growing, leaving at least six times its original size. By hour two however the subject's shell had become so tough that even the hardest of needles couldn't penetrate it. Scalpels provided to be just as useless. In the end, he has dispatched it with a bone saw, unfortunately resulting in vivisection to dispatch the monstrosity he had created. He would be ready for it this time though, as he had calculated that he had another... He quickly flicked open the pocket watch before shutting it again, returning it to his pocket. He had ten minutes in the safe zone before the subject reached stage two.

He began to wrap the piece of rubber tubing around his left arm, using it as a primitive but nonetheless effective tourniquet. He pulled the tubing tight until he could see the veins in his arm clearly. It wouldn't have taken much pressure to make them visible through his deathly pale skin, but he tightened it anyway so there was no doubt in his mind where veins ended and tissue began. With his right hand, he picked up the pack of alcohol wipes, ripping the packet open with his teeth he quickly rubbed the soft spot in the crook of his arm. Sterilizing it to stop any bacteria form his skin from entering the injection sight, the last thing he needed was another infection. Using his teeth as well he freed the syringe from its packet, leaving it lying on top of the packet for just a moment.

He inhaled deeply before audibly sighing as he let out the breath he had been holding. Moments later as he reached for the jar which contained the now slightly agitated specimen. His right hand quickly flipped open the jar's lid and in one smooth motion grab hold of the mutant insect, laying it on its back so its soft underbelly was in the air, before plunging the needle into the creature's abdomen. An ear-piercing screech echoed around the lab and the Doctor drew what he needed from the struggling creature before quickly dumping it back in its container. It would in all likelihood bleed to death but he didn't care. He had what he needed from it and he wasn't going to waste time thinking about some bug while his liquid cure was calling from inside the needle. He stared into the Syringe, holding up to the light with wonder in his eyes as he watched the newly extracted liquid. It was truly a wonder to behold.

The liquid in front of him had been a vibrant green was now an incandescent aqua. He haphazardly flicked the tip of the needle too transfixed with the radiant blue glow in front of him. It did the job though and the Syringe was now free of any air bubbles that had been present.

A slight hiss escaped Nathaniel's lips as the needle pierced his skin but any discomfort he felt was forgotten as his thumb pressed down on the end of the syringe releasing the magical liquid into his bloodstream. Shocking warmth ran up the doctor's arm towards the tourniquet before racing back down to assault his cold fingertips. It was a wonderfully maddening feeling, like he had liquid fire swimming in his veins. He quickly undid the tie around his arm and lent back slightly closing his arms as the living fire assaulted his other senses. Bringing him a pleasure he hadn't known was physically possible. Neurons fired frantically in his brain as he gave into the warmth, giving life back to his limbs. He felt his muscle tense for a moment and then relax as if warm azure hands were massaging them, taking away the agonizing pain that had become his norm.

It wasn't until he tried to get up that the trouble started. He stumbled suddenly more lightheaded than usual and quite queasy.

"Easy Nate let's just do things slowly" he whispered to himself before dry heaving a little. The spinning sensation he felt did not lessen as he has hoped instead it increased until he felt like he was on a carousel that was madly out of control.

"I want off" he breathed roughly, losing his lunch over the floor moments later.

Something was wrong; the feeling inside of him had changed drastically. The pleasant, massaging warmth had turned into burning, squeezing pain, that seemed to singe every nerve ending in his flesh. He doubled over in pain as a molten vice-like grip began to make its way through his body. Making him feel as if his very bones were trying to escape. He collapsed to the floor, wheezing and hissing. All he could do was claw his way across to the phone so he could get some help. Fingernails biting deeply into the floor, Nathan began to pull his way across to the 'lunch' table at the far end of the lab. Hours seemed to pass before he finally made his way to the table, by this time he felt as if his skull was warping the bone twisting and changing, squishing his brain into a pulp. His eyes filled with a mixture of tears and blood, bulged. If he had been in a sane frame of mind he would have been worried that they would pop right out of his skull. But, right now all he could focus on was surviving.

He grabbed the tablecloth in an attempt to pull himself up onto his feet. He failed to get more than a few inches from the floor before his body smacked back down onto the floor painfully, taking the cloth with him. Crockery, mouldering food stuffs and long-forgotten experiments fell all around him smashing into smithereens across the floor. The chemicals from past experiments mixed together on the floor dangerously only to form a dense, noxious smoke as it ate through the floor. The smoke it produced stung his already bloody, raw eyes making him blind. He lashed out trying to get hold of something, anything.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. He was going to die, he was going to DIE! He realized this mere seconds before the heavy weight of the phone came crashing down on his skull knocking him out cold.

When he awoke the lab was freezing, almost as if someone had transported the room to the Arctic Circle while he had been out. He moaned at the buzzing, pounding sound that reverberated through his skull and down his spine, making his skin feel like it was vibrating. He tried to open his eyes groggily and instantly regretted it. Hissing in pain at the sudden light. He closed them again his hands trying to cover them to save from yet more pain. Wait what was that, his hand brushed over something strange where his nose should be. It was smooth and hard with a slight hint of warmth to it like the shell of a bug. He tapped on it to hear it make a strange hollow creak like old wood. Ok, now this really was strange, he dug in a fingernail only to recoil in pain as soon as it made contact.

"What the bloody..?" he muttered to himself his eyes opening, this time slowly so he could get accustomed to the light. It was really quite bright in the room, brighter in the room than he had remembered. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the watch; it was still the middle of the night so he hadn't been unconscious for that long so why was it so bright in here? He tried to turn his head but it felt as if he had a giant bowling ball on his shoulders. The weight of it was too much for his neck to hold up on its own so he ended up simply staring down at the floor limply; straining to hold up the incredible weight now on his shoulders.

Strange he had never noticed the pattern in the wood before, the tiny dots and dirt embedded into the grain. Everything looked so small; he wondered if he had grown. His body still looked the same but what about his head? It felt so heavy, so bulbous. His eyes felt as if they were bulging out of his skull and yet at the same time somehow sitting snugly in their sockets. His hands reached up to touch his skin, his neck felt as if it were made out of the same strange chitin-like material he had felt earlier. Yes, that's what it felt like, the hard outer shell of a bug but that was impossible wasn't it? His hands continued on their way up and he found his chin, the texture beneath his fingertips didn't change but his chin defiantly seemed bigger, perhaps more defined. His hands then moved up in a V pattern following his jawline upwards and outwards. He felt a bit of wiry fuzz tickle his fingertip which signalled that his moustache was still intact. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was rather fond of it; he found the fine well-trimmed line of facial hair rather comforting for some reason. His hand kept on going in the same wide v pattern until he could see them. "That's strange" he whispered taking his hands away from his eyes to measure the distance, they weren't where they should have been and as he closed his eyes he ran his fingertips over them. His eyes were huge taking up at least ¾ of his head.

"What the Bloody hell is wrong with me" He barely managed to croak as he scrambled to his feet to find a mirror. He didn't even notice that he had managed to get up and sprint along the lab all without the use of his cane. He stopped next to the mirror, eyeing it wearily from a side-on position, before stepping in front of it. What he saw next made a strangled cry rise from his throat. Before him was a strange creature, with a skin tone of burnt umber with speckles of toasted orange, upon hard, leathery-looking skin. Huge golden saucers were the most prominent feature on its face. His golden iris darting here there and everywhere, sparkling with fear as they studied the glass. A pencil-thin moustache looked as if it was velcroed just above the creature just as thin top lip. Last but not least his gaze shifted to the top portion of the image in which one would expect to find the top of the skull and a fine bed of hair. Gone were his dark, silky locks and instead were replaced with a pair of antennae. He laughed madly at this, finally losing the waning self-control and little sanity he had left.

"It's just a dream, a hallucination and nothing more," he said in between bouts of nervous, insane laughter.

"I will wake up and it will all be over," he said to himself before chanting "It's not real, it's not REAL"!. It was real enough, however, to make him doubt his own sanity. The image in the mirror moved, drawing his attention as one of the creature's antennae twitched slightly like a muscle spasm. He felt a strange pulling, tapping sensation at the top of his head and when he looked up he could see strange feelers bending slightly over his bulbous head. That was the last straw broke, all sanity now gone the Doctor cackled like a maniac before he fainted, his new feelers twitching wildly taking on a life of their own.