Chapter 2: Slow and Gradual
The low thrum of the ship’s engines vibrated through the thin mattress, pulling Ash reluctantly from a heavy, dreamless sleep. Sunlight, sharp and intrusive, streamed through the small porthole, painting a bright rectangle on the opposite wall. He blinked, disoriented for a moment by the unfamiliar surroundings – the slightly too-close ceiling, the faint, clean scent of detergent mingling with something else… something subtly floral he couldn't quite place. Then it all rushed back. The cruise. William. The tiny cabin prison.
He groaned softly, rolling onto his back. William’s bed was empty, neatly made, the duvet crisp and smooth. A small victory – he had the cabin to himself, at least for a moment. But the air still felt thick with William’s lingering presence, that expensive, woodsy cologne clinging stubbornly. Ash pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the narrow bed. His muscles protested, stiff from yesterday’s aimless wandering. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, fingers catching on… something. Less resistance. Weird. Probably just slept funny.
The strange tingling sensation on the back of his neck was back, a faint warmth spreading downwards across his shoulders and upper back. It wasn't unpleasant, just… persistent. And new. He scratched absently, his fingertips registering skin that felt smoother than usual, almost silky. Must be the humidity, he thought, dismissing it. Everything felt damp at sea. The faint floral note tickled his nostrils again. Definitely stronger this morning. Maybe they’d changed the air fresheners overnight. Cruise ships were weird like that.
He needed a shower. Badly. The thought of hot water sluicing away the lingering awkwardness of yesterday, the salt spray, and whatever this phantom floral smell was, sounded heavenly. He grabbed his toiletry bag and the towel the cruise line provided – fluffy and white, smelling faintly of bleach – and padded towards the cramped en-suite bathroom.
Closing the door behind him felt like sealing himself into a tiny, tiled sanctuary. He cranked the shower on full, letting steam billow out, clouding the mirror almost instantly. He stripped off his t-shirt and sleep shorts, dropping them on the closed toilet lid. As he stepped under the hot spray, the water hitting his skin felt intensely good, washing away the physical residue of a strange first day. He lathered up the generic cruise-ship body wash, the sharp, clean scent battling the underlying floral aroma that seemed to emanate from… him? That couldn’t be right.
He scrubbed his arms, his chest, working the lather into a thick foam. His hands slid over his torso, and he paused. His skin did feel different. Softer. Noticeably smoother, especially across his chest and shoulders. Not just from the water. The coarse hairs on his forearms and legs seemed… finer. Sparser? He frowned, tilting his head back into the spray, letting the water run through his hair. It felt thicker, somehow. Fuller. He ran his fingers through it. Definitely silkier than yesterday. Less gritty.
Okay, that’s new. A flicker of unease, small but sharp, pricked him. He dismissed it almost immediately. Stress. Weird ship water. Bad diet catching up. Or maybe just… growing up? He was 25. Things changed. He’d probably just never noticed before. He focused on the heat, the pressure, the simple act of cleansing.
He reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous dollop into his palm. As he massaged it into his scalp, working up a rich lather, his fingers traced the familiar shape of his skull, the line of his jaw. His jawline felt… less defined? Sharper angles seemed subtly softened under the slippery suds. He stopped massaging, pressing his fingertips deliberately along his jawbone. It felt the same. Mostly. He must be imagining things, his mind playing tricks fueled by the bizarre situation. The steam, the confinement, the shared cabin with a guy who looked like he belonged on a yacht catalog cover.
He rinsed thoroughly, the warm water soothing the irrational prickles of disquiet. Toweling off, he avoided looking directly at the fogged mirror. The floral scent was definitely stronger now, wrapped around him like a warm, invisible shroud, clashing oddly with the clean cotton towel. He rubbed his hair vigorously, the damp strands feeling undeniably softer, falling differently around his face as he tousled it dry.
He pulled on fresh boxers and a soft, worn band t-shirt. It clung slightly differently across his chest. Not tighter, just… settling differently. Old shirt, he reasoned. Shrinks weird in ship’s dryers. He avoided dwelling on it, brushing his teeth quickly, the minty paste a welcome assault on his senses, cutting through the floral undertone.
Opening the bathroom door, a cloud of fragrant steam billowed out into the cabin. William was back, sitting on his bed, scrolling through something on his tablet. He looked up as Ash emerged, his piercing blue eyes scanning him with casual disinterest that froze for a fraction of a second. A slight frown creased William’s brow, almost imperceptible.
“Morning,” William said, his voice neutral. His gaze lingered on Ash’s face, then flickered down his torso for a beat too long before returning to the tablet. “Sleep okay?”
“Yeah, surprisingly. Like a rock,” Ash replied, attempting nonchalance, crossing to his duffel bag to grab jeans. He felt weirdly exposed under that brief, assessing stare. Had William noticed something? Impossible. He was just being paranoid. “You?”
“Fine.” William tapped his tablet screen. His expression was unreadable, but the slight frown hadn’t entirely vanished. He sniffed the air almost imperceptibly. “They pump some strong stuff through these vents, huh?”
Ash froze mid-motion, a sock in his hand. “The floral smell? Yeah. Really strong this morning.”
William just nodded, his gaze returning to the screen, but his jaw was set a little tighter. “Right. Floral.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Ash pulled on his jeans. They felt… comfortable. Looser around the waist than he remembered. He cinched his belt an extra notch. Must have stretched. He ran a hand through his damp hair again, pushing it back from his forehead. It fell forward immediately, softer strands brushing his eyebrows. He caught William watching him again in his peripheral vision – a quick, darting look, quickly averted. Confusion? Discomfort? Ash couldn’t tell.
“Okay,” Ash said, forcing a brightness he didn’t feel. “Gonna go find some serious coffee. Maybe conquer the breakfast buffet. See you around?”
William nodded curtly, not looking up. “Yeah. See you.”
Ash grabbed his keycard and slipped out of the cabin, the door clicking shut behind him. The corridor air felt cooler, less saturated with the floral scent, though he could still smell it clinging faintly to his own skin and hair. He took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. Weird morning. Just a weird morning.
He headed towards the elevators, determined to push the strange sensations aside. Coffee. Food. Sunshine. He’d make the best of this day, regardless of the shared cabin and the confusing, subtle shifts in his own body that his mind kept trying, and failing, to fully dismiss. As he walked, he caught his reflection in a polished brass panel near the elevator bank. The image was distorted, warped, but he could see the outline of his face, the way his damp hair framed it. It looked… softer somehow. Less angular. He looked away quickly, a new, sharper thread of unease weaving into his resolve. He jabbed the elevator button harder than necessary.
On the Bridge Deck, Susan Cruz watched a discreet monitor displaying cabin corridor footage. Her keen eyes tracked Ash walking away from B-217. She zoomed in slightly on the distorted reflection in the brass panel, a small, satisfied curve touching her lips. She tapped her sleek tablet, bringing up the SAP interface. Phase One metrics glowed green – hormonal modulation stable, cellular restructuring initiating within acceptable parameters. Subject responsiveness: optimal.
She noted the timestamped log entry: Subject A.M. – Post-shower observation. Physical markers progressing subtly. Subject exhibits minor cognitive dissonance regarding changes. Target W.T. displays heightened sensory awareness and nascent curiosity. Reduce scent in room and keep moderate infusions.
Susan swiped to another screen, a live feed from the breakfast buffet. She watched Ash fill a plate, his movements slightly less awkward than yesterday, his posture unconsciously straighter. The morning sun caught the highlights in his hair, making it appear richer, less shaggy, more… styled by chance. The floral note, a tailored pheromonal signature keyed to William’s olfactory profile, was dispersing perfectly.
“Making the best of your day, Ashley?” Susan murmured to herself, her voice low and smooth. She adjusted a slider on her tablet, a fractional increase in the ambient diffusion rate. “Let’s see what this one brings.” Her knowing smirk returned as she watched Ash hesitate, then add a single strawberry to his plate of bacon and eggs. A small, unexpected choice. Fascinating. Looks like he likes the breakfast buffet the most. He fills up on at least 5 plates while here. She swipes another tab on her screen fruit diffusion. And presses that activation. 'These fruits are grown on this ship through genetic manipulation. I can use these fruit however I want. Fortunately I can make it a semi addictive drug. Making Ash exclusively want these on every plate. Once I get him hooked I can add more to complacency hormones in them.' She told herself.
The buffet sprawled under a soaring glass atrium, morning light dappling through palm fronds onto tables laden with silver chafing dishes. Ash inhaled deeply – coffee, bacon, warm pastries, and beneath it all, a faint, persistent sweetness like exotic nectar that made his mouth water. He grabbed a plate, the smooth porcelain cool against his suddenly sensitive palms. Yesterday’s dread felt distant, muffled by a strange, low hum of contentment buzzing just below his skin. He piled crispy bacon high, added fluffy scrambled eggs, a buttered croissant.
He found a small table nestled between two potted ferns, partially shielded from the couples murmuring over shared plates. He devoured the first serving, the salty crunch of bacon grounding him momentarily. Yet, an unexpected hollowness remained in his stomach, a craving unfilled. He eyed the vibrant fruit display near the entrance – plump strawberries glistening with dew, slices of golden mango, deep purple dragon fruit. They practically glowed.
He rose, navigating the cheerful chaos back towards the fruit. As he passed a couple feeding each other melon balls, a flicker of their shared intimacy struck him with an unfamiliar pang. He pushed it aside, focusing on the berries. He heaped a second plate almost solely with fruit, the colors dazzling under the lights. He returned to his seat.
The strawberries burst with flavor, impossibly sweet and complex, a wave of pure satisfaction washing over him with each bite. The dragon fruit was cool, subtly tangy, its texture silky against his tongue. He ate slowly, savoring, the world narrowing to the taste, the light buzz intensifying, warming his chest. His skin felt incredibly soft under his t-shirt collar, the fabric whispering against his neck in a way he’d never noticed.
He licked a drop of strawberry juice from his thumb, catching Will’s approach from the corner of his eye. Will carried his own plate – lean proteins and greens, efficiently arranged. He hesitated near Ash’s table.
"Morning again," Ash said, his voice sounding lighter, clearer than usual. He gestured vaguely at his plate with his fork. "These strawberries are insane. You gotta try some."
Will’s gaze swept over Ash’s face, lingering for a fraction too long on his flushed cheeks, his slightly parted lips, then down to the mountain of fruit. His blue eyes held a flicker of something unreadable – not disgust, but intense scrutiny. "Looks like you’re enjoying them," he observed, his tone neutral but his posture stiff. He glanced at the fruit display. "I’m good with this for now." He started to move towards an empty table further away.
"Wait," Ash heard himself say. The word came out softer than intended. He pushed the half-full fruit plate slightly towards Will’s side of the small table. "Seriously. One strawberry? They’re... different." He felt a strange urge for Will to experience it, to share this quiet, buzzing pleasure.
Will paused. He studied Ash, then the offered fruit. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Ash smelled the faint trace of Will’s expensive cologne cutting through the ambient sweetness, a strangely potent combination that made his pulse jump. "Different how?" Will asked, his voice low.
"Just... more," Ash said, struggling for words, feeling a warmth spread across his cheekbones. "Better than any I’ve ever had." His hair brushed his temple, feeling impossibly fine and soft. He tucked a strand behind his ear, a gesture that felt oddly natural.
Will’s gaze followed the movement, lingering on Ash’s ear, the curve of his neck. He saw a strange expression flicker across Will’s face – confusion mixed with a raw curiosity that hadn’t been there yesterday. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by polite detachment. Will looked back at the strawberry plate. "Maybe later," he said, his tone carefully flat. "Gotta hit the gym." He gave a curt nod and walked away, leaving Ash alone with the fruit and the humming warmth.
Ash watched him go, the rejection stinging more than it should have. He looked down at the remaining strawberries, their vibrant red suddenly seeming less enticing. That strange hollowness returned, deeper this time. He needed more. He pushed the plate aside and stood up. Coffee wasn't going to cut it. He needed that taste again, that wave of pure, buzzing satisfaction. He headed back towards the gleaming fruit display, drawn like a magnet.
His hand, looking slimmer, paler than he recalled, reached for a clean plate. He bypassed the bacon station entirely, focusing solely on the fruit. He piled it high again – strawberries, mango, papaya, kiwi, a cascade of color.
On the Bridge Deck, Susan Cruz watched the live feed from the buffet camera. Her finger hovered over the tablet screen, zooming in on Ash’s face as he selected yet more fruit, his expression distant, focused solely on the bounty before him. A faint, satisfied smile touched her lips. She noted the slight flush high on his cheeks, the unconscious grace in his movements as he reached for a particularly plump berry, the way his shaggy hair now fell in softer, more defined waves around his noticeably refined jawline.
The SAP interface glowed softly. Bio-signs confirmed optimal absorption of the tailored compounds within the genetically modified fruit. Dopamine uptake: elevated. Cellular restructuring: progressing within Phase One parameters. Target W.T. proximity interaction logged: heightened physiological response noted (elevated pulse, pupil dilation). Fascinating.
She watched Ash lift the heavy, fruit-laden plate. He turned, scanning the bustling room, his gaze momentarily catching the sunlight. His eyes seemed larger, the brown richer, holding a luminous quality Susan hadn't observed before. He didn't head back to his previous table. Instead, he drifted towards a quieter corner booth near a large window overlooking the endless blue. He sat alone, bathed in morning light, and picked up a shimmering slice of mango.
Susan's thumb tapped decisively on the tablet. She accessed the environmental controls linked to Ash’s proximity. The concentration of tailored pheromones in the air around his chosen seat increased by a calculated fraction. Subtle, undetectable waves designed to enhance receptivity, to deepen the sense of tranquil well-being the fruit provided, and, crucially, to amplify sensory perception for anyone entering that specific aura.
Then, she activated the second protocol linked to the fruit infusion. The subtle compulsion. A gentle, chemical nudge ensuring the craving would return stronger, faster, making the fruit an irresistible anchor point, a source of comfort Ash would seek instinctively.
She leaned back, steepling her fingers. The experiment was unfolding beautifully. Ashley Miller was blossoming. Now, to see if the butterfly would draw the intended admirer. Her gaze shifted to another feed showing Will, mid-rep on a weight machine in the ship's gym, his brow furrowed, his expression distant, far from the focus of his workout. Susan’s knowing smirk deepened. "Perfect. I think tomorrow ill change his eye color to test the genetic manipulation protocol. Hmm. Will has blue eyes so not that color. Ash has brown eyes. Let's make them vibrate. Baby green. No emerald green. That will be my only quick change on him. I just need to do it for testing.
The rest of the day Will and Ash do their own things. Will practically stayed near the library on the third deck, and Ash, unfortunately just lazed about on the top deck near the pool. Just soaking in sun and the hundreds of couples. Ash found himself drawn to the buffet for both lunch and dinner. Still scooping up fruit on his plates. But he also filled them with other stuff too. Ash was the first back to the cabin and readied himself for bed. Taking his jeans and shirt off to crawl under the covers. Will came back around 2 am as Ash was sleeping and just crawled into his own bed.
The cabin air hung thick with the now-familiar, cloying floral scent mingled with the faint, clean tang of Will’s expensive cologne. Ash swam upwards through layers of heavy, dreamless sleep, the ship’s vibrations a constant hum beneath him. He blinked, disoriented, the sunlight through the porthole painfully bright. Will’s bed was empty, neatly made, the silence complete except for the distant, muffled thump of music somewhere far above. Alone again. He rubbed his eyes, the gritty feeling replaced by an unsettling smoothness beneath his fingertips.
He pushed himself up, the worn t-shirt he slept in clinging differently across his chest, softer fabric brushing against skin that felt… sensitive, almost raw. That pervasive floral sweetness, stronger than yesterday, seemed to emanate from his own pores. He scratched his neck, the skin there impossibly smooth, silky. The disquiet from yesterday – the softer hair, the subtle reshaping he’d tried to dismiss – surged back, colder, sharper. He swung his legs out, bare feet hitting the cool cabin floor.
The bathroom mirror beckoned, fogged with residual steam from Will’s earlier shower. Ash avoided it, reaching instead for the toothpaste. Mint scraped his tongue, failing to mask the underlying sweetness clinging to him. He splashed cold water on his face, the shock bracing. Drying off with a towel, the coarse fibers felt abrasive against his strangely smooth cheeks. He finally looked up, steeling himself.
A stranger stared back. His shaggy brown hair fell in softer, longer waves, framing a face that wasn’t quite his. The jawline was less defined, the angles subtly gentled. But it was the eyes that stopped his breath. They seemed blurry. "Must be the sleepy eyes playing tricks on me."
Ash got a hunger again. And the all you can eat buffet was calling his name again. It was fortunate the contest included a fully paid buffet ticket so he would never have to pay those prices for the buffet everyday, while on the cruise. So he got dressed and went to the buffet again. Alone. But he was used to it now. He found a secluded spot away from everyone else, because it was just him again. Once he had his spot he went to go get his plate.
The buffet sprawled before him, a tempting cornucopia of colors and scents. Alone again, but used to it now, Ash got up and went to grab a plate from the stack under the silver chafing dishes. Filling it mostly with fruit seemed like the natural thing to do today; the sight of the vibrant, glistening mounds drew him in like a magnet. He piled on a heaping portion of strawberries, their crimson hue almost glowing under the warm lights, added slices of golden mango, their sticky sweetness coating his fingers as he handled them, and a few chunks of cool, green honeydew melon for contrast. A sprinkle of passionfruit seeds topped it off, their tart, exotic aroma whetting his appetite.
He carried his plate back to his table, the scent of ripe fruit preceding him like an enticing cloud.
Susan Cruz, watching from the Bridge Deck, sent a command to the SAP interface. Her fingers danced over the tablet screen, activating the eye transformation protocol. A subtle green light flickered in acknowledgment. "Time for a change," she murmured, satisfaction curving her lips. Watch Ash eat his mound of fruit, that was genetically altered to change only him.
Susan Cruz leaned back in her ergonomic chair on the Bridge Deck, her eyes flicking between the two screens. Behind her, the hum of the ship’s engines pulsed like a heartbeat, a constant backdrop to the silent drama unfolding on her screen.
Ash popped a slice of ripe mango into his mouth, the sweetness exploding on his tongue. He chewed slowly, savoring the sensation, his eyes closed momentarily in bliss. When they flickered open again, he paused mid-bite, a faint frown creasing his brow. Something felt different. Something in his vision. He rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly, the world around him shifting subtly. He could see clearer than he had ever before, but a slight itch in his eyes made it uncomfortable to just sit there.
He dropped his plate onto the table, to his left, and rubbed his eyes again. When he opened them, he noticed a small difference in the way everything looked. It was like he was seeing things in a slightly different color. The flowers were vibrating, the people were moving in slow motion. It was a very surreal experience. He blinked a few times, trying to focus back in on the world around him. He should’ve gotten glasses years ago. He needed to go get them, but he didn’t want to go through all that trouble. But he needed to see better, and these visions weren’t helping him. He stood up unsteadily, his knees feeling like jelly. He made his way outside where the sea air alleviating the itch in his eyes, also making seem like he could see crystal clear now. Almost as if he had 20/20 vision now.
His eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight reflecting off the water’s surface, and he could see every droplet glinting like diamonds. He walked slowly along the ship’s promenade, his gaze drawn to the hazy blue horizon. The sky appeared brighter, the clouds more defined, their edges crisp and clear. He looked down at his hands, marveling at the intricate patterns on his skin, the tiny hairs on his arm, the weave of the threads in his shirt. Everything seemed sharper, more vivid.
He felt a strange sensation in his chest, a buzzing warmth that radiated through his body, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
He looked around, his eyes taking in every detail sharply – the tiled promenade, the vibrant flowers in their pots, the gleaming white railings, and the crystal-clear blue expanse of the ocean stretching out before him. The world seemed alive, each color more vivid, each sound more distinct.
A group of passengers walked by, their laughter and conversation reaching him clearly. He saw a woman smile at him, her eyes sparkling. He smiled back, feeling a strange connection, an instant attraction that he couldn't explain. The woman blushed, looking away quickly. He watched her go, a sense of wonder filling him.
"This is amazing, after all these years I can finally see clearly. I've got to find a mirror and see why." Ash said to himself, speaking the words out loud to give them substance in the strange, surreal world around him. He turned and headed back towards the cabin, his steps quicker now, eager to see his reflection.
As he entered the cabin, Will was sitting on his bed, scrolling through something on his tablet. He looked up as Ash came in, a frown creasing his brow. "You okay? You look… different," he said, his gaze roaming over Ash's face, his expression a mix of confusion and concern.
Ash realized he probably looked strange, his eyes wide and his face flushed with excitement. "Yeah im good, just able to see clearer than I ever have before." He said turning into the bathroom to look at the mirror.
Will raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, just watched Ash disappear into the bathroom. He heard the door shut and the faint sound of the faucet turning on. He looked back down at his tablet, but his mind was elsewhere, his gaze drifting to the bathroom door.
Inside the bathroom, Ash stood in front of the mirror, his heart pounding with anticipation. He reached up and wiped the steam away with the edge of his t-shirt, revealing his reflection. His breath hitched in his throat. His eyes. A vibrant emerald color now, not his brown eyes. "What the. Are my eyes green?" He whispered to himself. "We're they always green? I thought I had brown eyes, but things were blurry then. Maybe they were always green and I just couldn't tell. But if they did change and I can see clearly because of it. Then oh well. Seems like a win for me." He paused, his eyes growing wider with each moment of inspection. He reached out, tentatively touching his reflection in the mirror. His hand seemed different, the skin softer, almost delicate. He flexed his fingers, watching as the motion traced a graceful arc across his skin. "What else has changed?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
He turned his head slightly, examining his profile. His jawline seemed less prominent, the angle softer. He ran his hand along his cheek, feeling the smooth contours, the absence of the familiar stubble. He did shave before the cruise, so the absence of stubble was understandable. He didn't grow fast facial hair. And the smoothness he just chalked up as not being able to clearly in the past so he never really noticed it. But with clear vision, he took note of himself more clearly.
He was excited to finally see 100% clearer and wanted to make the most of it. So he left the cabin to explore the ship.
He wanted to see everything with his new eyes. As he walked out into the bright sunlight, he felt like he was seeing the world for the first time. The colors were so vivid, the details so sharp. It was almost overwhelming, but in a good way.
He saw a group of people playing volleyball on the deck, the white ball flying through the air like a comet. The net was crisp and clear, the lines perfectly straight. He could see every grain of sand on the court, every bead of sweat on the players' skin. It was like he had supervision, but he knew that wasn't possible.
Susan watch and smiled, that the transformation was successful. Which means she can implement the slow changes now. She also took note the acceptance drug in the fruit worked. Making Ash just accept his own eyes changing colors.
Susan also noticed Ash seemed to enjoy his new vision more than he was acting disgusted by it. Making the next transformation more subtle. Susan looked down at the SAP interface, her fingers dancing across the screen as she adjusted parameters. She increased the dosage of the acceptance drug in the fruit to ensure Ash's psychological integration remained seamless.
Back on the deck, Ash strolled past the volleyball court, feeling a strange sense of detachment. He could see every detail of the players' faces, the slight sheen of sweat on their skin, the way their muscles moved under the taut fabric of their swimsuits. It was like watching a high-definition film, but he was in it. He watch more of the woman playing though, and wasn't looking at their bodies, but more of their bikinis. The colors just popped out to him. Creating a weird urge that would come into play later on.