Well, someone's certainly experienced some growth... in more ways than one.

(Warning: The next part will contain vore.)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
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Location: [Redacted]
Date: April 20th, 1959
Patient: Vlas Morozov
Weight: 908 pounds
Height: 6'4

Report:

Since my last report, Morozov's form has changed in a number of drastic ways. He is now a full five inches taller than he was at the previous check-up, and to make matters worse, his monstrous features have become significantly more pronounced. His pupils are nigh unrecognizable, resembling those of a snake, rather than a horse. His facial features have become more distorted, appearing far sharper than any person would have naturally. His stomach has bloated outward to a greater degree, finally erasing the scant traces of the abdominal horses the spy once had.

In a surprising development, the upper half of Morozov's midsection has become punctuated by three long stripes. When I placed my hand on one, it felt... foreign, for lack of a better term. Morozov was rather pleased by my prodding, so much so that he actually pushed me closer, causing my body to sink into his expansive middle. Still, I did not sound off any alarm. In many ways, the experience was far more pleasurable than terrifying.

Despite my personal satisfaction with the experiment, my colleagues have become increasingly wary of Morozov. On the 12th, [Redacted] officially resigned from our division, and, to my understanding, has moved to the private sector in some capacity (after being forced to fill out a great deal of confidential paperwork, of course.) And then, on the 13th, [Redacted] just... disappeared. Strangely enough, Morozov's weight picked up significantly on that particular day. To make matters even more peculiar, one pair of Morozov's stripes vanished that day, only to reappear the next.

Currently, there are only four human administrators on site. However, I doubt we will have many issues in the coming days - after all, I doubt much will change by the 22nd.

Note extracted from the private journal of [Redacted]:

Oh, good God... what was I thinking? Why did I inject myself with that blasted serum... and why does it feel so damn good?

My colleagues have not noticed anything different about me, and, aside from a personal increase in both fat and muscle, I suppose not much has changed - physically, that is. Mentally and emotionally - I have never felt better, and I have never felt worse. With every waking moment, I find myself wrought with extreme guilt - and intense pleasure. I truly wish I could explain what I am feeling at the moment, but, for the life of me, I cannot put it into words.

Morozov...

It's him. I... feel... him. It's as though we are connected by this... thing. I don't want to say it, but whatever this is, whatever he's done.... whatever I've done... is transforming me into some sort of thrall for this man. I believe that he has had an abnormally potent power of persuasion ever since we injected that compound into his veins, and I find it easy to believe that my recent foolishness has only enhanced his influence over me. I know he wants me... I have no idea what for, however. The others, however... I dare not think what he may have in store for him.