Bacteria_705 has a minion!

Lab rat specimen 1 the Skeletal Rat

Legacy Name: Bacteria_705

The Graveyard Wyllop
Owner: Groot

Age: 11 years, 7 months, 4 days

Born: April 21st, 2009

Adopted: 11 years, 7 months, 4 days ago (Legacy)

Adopted: April 21st, 2009 (Legacy)

Nominate Pet for Spotlight


  • Level: 18
  • Strength: 14
  • Defense: 13
  • Speed: 11
  • Health: 10
  • HP: 10/10
  • Intelligence: 21
  • Books Read: 20
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Register Supervisor

I'm not even sure as to why I'm even bothering to write this down. If my predictions are correct, no one will ever read this. But then again, perhaps when I'm finally killed, someone will loot through my stuff and find it. Regardless, this cross is too heavy to bear any longer and even if I only ever reveal this to a piece of paper, at least it's an outlet. I am Bacteria, though that wasn't the name I was given at birth. Though, what my human name was is completely irrelevant to any of this.

To be blunt, I am the reason that mankind is on the brink of extinction. Hell, even why most of the animal kingdom is soon to follow humans to the grave. I am the reason that eventually, nothing will be alive anymore on the earth, with the exception being to plant life. But who knows, maybe it's just a matter of time and evolution until that is changed also.

Perhaps, though, the human race will pull through this. Though I have my doubts, there is a slim chance that maybe they will survive. Perhaps with enough will power they can manage.

But, I get ahead of myself. I can not discuss the possible outcome without telling of how it all came to be.

It all began because of my sickly childhood. I was constantly in and out of hospitals, for I was always sick with some illness. When I wasn't in the hospital, I was more than likely suffering from the common flu and doped up on as many medications as they could shove down my throat.

Eventually, as the years passed, a well-known doctor who had somehow heard of me approached my parents. He offered a cure to my sickness, and any future sicknesses. He explained that the procedure would be the first of its kind, and highly dangerous. But, if I were to survive through it, I would change the course of medicine, as we know it.

Do I blame my parents? No, and though I want to blame them, I simply can't. How can I? They simply wanted to heal me, to make me better. It isn't their fault that what had become of me would eventually destroy mankind. They just wanted to see their child cured of the sicknesses that constantly plagued him.

So, they agreed. Did I have say in the matter? Of course not. Looking back, and being man enough to admit it, part of me wanted to do the procedure for two reasons. The first reason being was that I wanted to be cured. I wanted to be normal. I was sick of the constant blood work and drugs. Second, I knew that in failing, I wouldn't have to live. At least, I assumed that. They had explained how this surgery could be fatal. I had gotten to the point where I was so afflicted by the constant poking and prodding that I was willing to die to end it.

It all happened so fast once my parents signed the agreement to allow this to happen. The following day at 6 a.m. a van with no windows came to pick me up. I found it odd that it wasn't an ambulance, along with the fact that of the 4 people that showed up, 2 of them carried weapons and were dressed in black suits. That was the last time I was to ever seen my parents. "You have to let us go! He's our son!" Those were the finals words I ever heard from my father before I was rushed outside and into the van.

I was then taken to an underground building. I can't recall the name of it, though it did have a specific one. When we arrived, the guards that greeted us had very large machine guns at their sides. They brought us to the lowest level of the building (at least, it was the lowest floor the elevator would take us down too) and ushered me into a white room. They pointed out a hospital gown that was on a metal table and told me to change into it. Then, I just waited until eventually, a nurse came and I was administered a drug that would cause me to slip out of being conscience so the operation could commence. That is how civilization and mankind were brought into a war they didn't stand a change against.

I awoke hours later, or was it days, I would never exactly find that out. I was locked in a completely white room, lying upon a rather hard bed. I could actually feel metal pressing against me through the thin sheets and wondered why I wasn't in a typical hospital bed. My eyes slowly drew open, adjusting to the light. Actually, I recall not even being affected by the light. It simply existed, but it was as if it couldn't actually do anything to me.

I then realized that there were things actually in my skin. Needles, to be exact. However, they didn't hurt. I just knew they were there. They caused me no pain. Then, slightly tilting my head to the left, I saw an IV and a bunch of other machines I had never seen before. They keep altering what was upon the screen, but I had no idea what they were determining.

Gritting my teeth, I finally realized something major. The strongest feeling of being hungry consumed me. It was as if a flame had been lighted within me and doused with gasoline. Its intensity of it took me by complete surprise, to say the least. My throat burned and I groaned out loud, squeezing my eyes shut. My stomach muscles clenched and once more, I cried out. However, no one came to my aid.

These hunger pains were beyond surreal. They took over me, made me lose my common sense, and I acted impulsively. I was frightened, for I figured if I wasn't fed soon, I would starve and die. That's how intensely hungry I felt. It literally left me feeling as if I didn't eat right now I would die. Looking back, I find it ironic that prior to the operation I was ready to die. Yet here I was, starving and freaking out that I was about to. As much as I hated being sick and what my life had become, I realized I didn't want to die. Hell, I'm still scared of dying, though I should be dead.

Anyways, acting upon instinct, I pushed myself into a sitting position. The needles tore from my skin, yet I didn't feel pain once more. I was aware of the fact that the ripped from my body but, I wasn't bothered by it. I leaned, or more like rolled, off the bed and collapsed. My legs gave out beneath me, and my head slammed into the ground. Another experience that had brought absolutely no pain.

(On another side note, looking back now, I am amazed at how oblivious I was to the simple changes in me, such as not feeling pain. If I weren't so consumed with hunger, perhaps I would have noticed.)

I pushed myself up, back into a sitting position, and struggled to my feet again. At that point, I realized that I was stark naked, but I couldn't care less. Stumbling upwards, I retained my balance and my eyes jetted all around the room, looking. Finally, I found what I had sought after. A door. I quickly blundered towards and began to wail against it.

I attempted to scream, to call out for someone to come find me, to feed me. But, nothing came out except groans and moans. Once again, something I should have noticed but I didn't. Instead, I continued to slam my palms to the metal door.

Not much longer later, a voice finally called from the other side. "Step away from the door," the voice commanded. I heard the words clearly in between my beating of the metal and slowly I lowered my hands. Yet I couldn't bring myself to step away. Just barely, I could smell food. "Move away from the door," the voice, which I determined was male, said again.

Finally, I ever so slowly took a few steps back until I ran into the bed. I wanted to return the words with some of my own, to explain that I was back, but the groans only came. I figured it was a side effect of the operation and dismissed it.

After waiting, finally, the sound of metal turning commenced and the door slowly opened. Bracing myself against the bed, what I saw bemused me. A short man wearing a white hazard suit peered wearily at me. He seemed almost that scared by me and cautiously he proceeded forward.

I need to accurately describe what it feels like to be so hungry, so intensely hungry like I was, and then to suddenly be consumed by the smell of food. Not just any food, mind you. I mean perfectly seasoned and properly prepared food. The type of food that doesn't come from a can or isn't overly processed. The best way I can describe it would be to imagine yourself standing upon a railroad track, back when trains were still in properly working order. Simply standing there when suddenly, the fastest moving train came barreling down the tracks at incomprehensible speeds. And then, collision. That massive train just slams into you with all its force and power.

That is what it was like when that man stepped closer to me. I could hear his heart beating, and indeed smell his tantalizing flesh. My eyes widened and without considering what I was doing, I lunged forward. The man was taken completely off guard and I managed to lock my arms around his own. I viciously dig my teeth through his suit and into his skin.

My teeth tore a rather large chunk of skin away. The blood gushed from the wound and splattered anything within a close proximity to it. From the walls and ground, to him and myself. I rapidly chewed and swallowed the meat, the warmth of it spreading through my entire body. I had my eyes closed from savoring the taste, but all too suddenly, the sensation of being in bliss was gone. I immediately knew that I needed more, and as soon as possible.

However, I was not fortunate enough to get a second bite in. Suddenly, a blow from the blunt of a gun slammed into my head and sent me reeling back. When I glanced up, two soldiers were dragging the man from the room and the door was slammed shut. I moaned, pushing myself back towards the door and began to uselessly beat upon it.

That is how the infection spread. I'll do myself to explain why, though hell, I could be wrong. This is simply my reasoning behind it. I was injected with the...bacteria. Which meant it was the strongest in me. I soon discovered that because of this, those I bit would turn quickest. To give it a time frame, though the minutes can be give or take, if I bit someone, it would take roughly 5 minutes for the change to take place. If that person bit someone, then it would take 15 to 20 minutes for the change to occur. If that person bit another person, it would then take 45 minutes to one hour. Hopefully, you can see the pattern.

As the virus spread, the time frame became longer but inevitable. The...doctors, as if they can even be considered that, never took that into account. Did they know that I would become a zombie? Perhaps they didn't. However, I have this feeling that something different would become of me. They must have known that I would some how be altered in a way that would forever change the world. Who would have known that the change would be the end of mankind?

Eventually, the virus took over the world. Spreading country to country, infecting everyone and anything it could. In case you're wondering, I evidently did get to leave my room. Some time later, the under ground layer I was caged in lost power and because of that, I managed to pry open the door and find my way out. I don't know why they didn't come back and kill me. Maybe it spread so quickly they couldn't even try to contain it. Or maybe, they didn't want too.

I’m sure you are wondering a few things. To begin, my skin didn't decompose but when I received a wound, it didn't heal; my heart never ceased to beat, and eventually I didn't need to feed. The same can not be said about the others I infected. I don`t know exactly why that is, but it certainly has something to do with the virus strain.

Also, as to me not needing to feed, that was because I infected so many. Eventually, after consuming so many humans, my body became simply immune to it. No longer did the eternal burning of hunger consume me. It was as if through biting others, I was able to spread all the bacteria from myself into others and became able to ignore the dull roar of the need to feed. No longer did so much of it exists in me. Granted I can now benefit from this, I hate what it took to get me to this point. I literally was not able to stop myself from feeding. As soon as I smelled a human, I became pure instinct.

I can’t begin to explain why zombies became such blundering idiots. Why they have no instincts except the need to feed. I doubt anyone will ever know this. I doubt zombies will ever be studied under a microscope. As much as I would love to know these things, I just don't see it happening.

My conscience, well, it's heavy. But, what can I say? If I had my way, my parents wouldn't have let them experiment on me. But, if they hadn't done it to me, then they would have chosen someone else. Either way was the human race destined to be zombies? Perhaps.

For now, I spend my time reading, and learning of the past. I love being consumed by books and to read as many as I can. Of course, I don't have to fear other zombies. They don't attempt to feed on me at all, despite my human appearance. And, I do mean appearance. I am not human. I haven't been since the surgery.

I don't know how I have managed to survive. I don't encounter other survivors, for I know they'd kill me for revenge. I keep to myself, wondering America by foot or bike. I stay away from any and everything, alive or dead. I want nothing to do with anyone, for it's hard to know I am the reason the world will end. That being said, to whoever is reading this, I am sorry. And I sincerely hope that YOU survive this and help take the world back.

-Overlay done by Horror
-Pet profile done by User not found: loftyballoon
-Story written by Groot
-Background picture found via google images. I do not own the picture.

Pet Treasure

Right Arm Mutagen

Doctor Mask

Amoeba of Dooom

Skitters Favorite Needle

Infected Subeta

Green-Lens Gas Mask

Left Arm Mutagen

Tiny Morostide Zombie Plushie

Female Zombie Minion

Male Zombie Minion

Zombie Action Figure

Sad Zombie Sticker


Mechanical Pencil 0.5

Blue Pencil

Pet Friends