The following story is a commission from a client that has chosen to remain anonymous, acting as a sort of spin-off of the earlier story, Slime-dentity Crisis!
The afternoon sun beat down hard on the farmland below. Crops of wheat and corn and copious other vegetables soaked in the early summer warmth, growing strong, tall, but thirsty. It had been a few days since the last rainfall, which would leave the soil dry as the road nearby, were it not tended to dutifully. Anyone or anything not rooted to that soil, though, would gladly seek refuge in the shade of the trees nearby, braving the forest for a chance to cool down on a hot day.
There were two folks who sought the comfort of the tree’s canopies today: one content with the shade the forest provided, and one who seemed to lurk in deeper cover yet.
The sweat of a hard day’s work was still warm on Orson’s skin, as he sat against a large oak’s trunk. Beads of the salty fluid ran down his shaggy blond hair and feline ears, not to mention his freckled caramel skin. All else that covered his fuzzy chest was the red bandana around his neck; he had abandoned his shirt earlier in the day. With the farm all but tended to for the day, he was content enough to let the breeze flow over his well-toned muscles and take away the stress of physical labour.
It took him a moment before his ears finally perked up, and his tail jutted up. It was faint, but his senses warned him all the same: he wasn’t alone.
His brown eyes darted along the treeline, looking for signs of more than the usual forest life. In the mottled collage of greens and browns, though, it was hard to pick up anything out of the ordinary.
“... Hello?” he mewled into the silence, “Is anyone there...?”
The silence stood stalwart, for a moment, at least. The faint sound of splashing and squelching broke through at last. Orson squinted, spying at last something in a paler green than the leaves around it. Its head peered from the bush, as it began to step into sight. It was short – about three feet tall or so – and seemed to be a halfling man in shape, in spite of its discoloration. Every possible edge on its ‘hairs’ and ‘clothing’ was soft and rounded, lumping together like water droplets. If it was a slime, it was the strangest one Orson had ever seen.
More surprising yet, its choice of response: “Uh, yeah, hi...!” Orson’s eyebrows shot up. Do slimes like this usually speak-- no, are there usually slimes like this in the first place?
His eyes darted around nervously. “Hi... What’s a fella like you doin’ ‘round here...?”
The slime’s eyes seemed to dart around as well. How strange for it to copy those mannerisms, though it was still strange to see it mimic a person’s form at all... “Oh, you know, I was just uh... meandering about, really. I actually live nearby here – there’s a lake I usually shamble around just over that way.” Its thumb pointed behind it. Was there a lake that way...? Orson struggled to recall such a place nearby.
“Well, uh, it’s nice to meet a new neighbour, I suppose,” he politely greeted. “But say, not to be rude, but are you... Well, are you typically so...” The words escaped him. He had no reason to know why a slime would even be shaped like a person at all, but why shaped like a halfling, exactly? “You seem a bit on the smaller side...?”
It peered up to its crown, then gave a polite smile back. “Oh yeah, well, you see...” It seemed to stammer here and there as it spoke. “It’s just that it’s a pretty hot day, you know? The heat really does a number on us slimes; we dehydrate pretty quick, and the less water we’ve got in us, the smaller we get, y’know? And if you can guess, we’re kind of a distance away from any real bodies of water, so I can’t get a good drink right now... So uh, I’m just sitting it out in this forest until I can make my way back home~!”
Orson looked over the slime again, and grinned. “Well, if that’s all, maybe I can help you out a little! My farm’s not far at all, and I can get you a good drink of water; it should be easy enough to get you enough water to get back home whenever you need!”
It perked up to attention, though it seemed to grimace just a bit. “Oh, you know what, that’s fine! I’ll be just fine if I stay put for a while; it’s pretty cool under the trees, so I’m not evaporating too much right now...!”
Orson furrowed his brow. “Are you sure, pal? Maybe there’s something else I can help you out with...?”
It pondered the offer, even putting its hand to its chin, humming and muttering audibly. “Well,” it thought, “This might be a little weird for you, but I know one way to recharge just a little bit, and neither of us really has to go anywhere~!” It walked up, and knelt down in front of the catboy. “It’s pretty easy for me to see you’ve worked up a real sweat, so maybe I can mop up a bunch of that sweat and help you cool down a little...? I get some hydration, and you cool off a bit; sounds like a win-win to me~!”
Orson flinched, looking up and down the fluid creature in front of him. It was already weird enough to find such a magical thing engaging with him at all, but to ask something that placed it in such intimate quarters with him...? But he did offer to help... “I guess that doesn’t sound half bad...?”
The slime smirked, and inched closer to Orson’s chest. It pressed its squishy hand against the side of his ribs until the limb compressed and spread along the skin. The touch was wet and cool, but the texture was more like oil than water. It stuck to his skin slightly as it crawled its way up and down the side of his chest. “Mmph,” it moaned, “I never got to really feel up you skin suits like this~ Your muscles feel so thick and meaty~!”
“Y... You don’t have to say it like that...!” Orson moaned. But the slime crawling along his sensitive skin was hard to ignore. He wasn’t certain, but it started to seem like this creature wasn’t interested in just suckling on his sweat. Even still, isn’t that just a little strange on its own?
The liquid squished against his nipple, sparking his nerves. A purr escaped his throat. He looked down at the face of the fluid thing to see it grinning more mischievously than before.
“Hey~” it cooed, “What was that just now~?”
“N-nothing...!” he denied, “Come on, you can’t expect me to not respond to you just--”
“No no no~” It flicked itself along his other nipple. He did his best, but Orson couldn’t help a second purr slipping through. “That’s just adorable~! I gotta see about making you do some more of that~!”
Without warning, it threw itself on top of Orson’s chest, splashing over his body. The muscles under that coat of chest hair rippled in sync with the liquid assailing them. It was more puddle than halfling-shaped at this point, but it kept its face as it soaked the farmer’s naked chest. It suckled on the whole of his chest, expanding and compressing the pecs with each pump. It squished and twisted around the sensitive nubs more and more, and all he could do was mewl in teasing pleasure. It felt so good to let it do as it saw fit, but there was a cautious part of his brain still insisting this was too much, that he should slip out of the slime’s grasp before it reaches too far.
Even as it flicked along his flesh, the fluid being beamed in ecstasy. “God, you taste so good~! And those sounds you’re making are like music~!” Orson could feel the green oily texture crawling up his neck, little by little. “But you know, I have to admit: there’s one little spot that you bipeds have that’s way more thrilling to stick to...”
Orson’s ears filled with liquid, throwing all his senses out of order. He yelped, the invasion lighting his head on fire, but only for a moment. He could feel something sloshing around in his head, conforming and constricting over... something... His thoughts felt smothered, and all the alarm bells ringing in his head seemed so much quieter. He sighed, fingers and toes and all the little muscles in his body twitching.
The slime continued to tease him, even as its intrusion continued. “Hmm? Hello~? Anybody home up there~?” It laughed. The catboy could hear every word – whether it was because the slime was reverberating against his ears, or seeping its message directly into his brain, or some third magic reason ... It didn’t matter much to him; he felt like he was adrift in his own skull. Just a passenger in his own body. “It’s weird: your headmeat actually feels about as big as the halfling I took over earlier, even though your head’s a bit bigger... It’s like you were made to have something else slip inside that empty skull~!”
Orson could only moan and purr, hardly even in response.
The slime reformed into a small humanoid shape again, looking over the body it was drenching only moments ago. “I’m not sure if it’s just from all the thoughts and interests I stole from that halfling, but...” It licked its lips. “You’re pretty hot, stud~! Maybe I should imitate your shape next~?”
More purring. It just scoffed at the near-catatonic farmer. “Well, I wasn’t exactly lying earlier: I would need a bit more water to shapeshift into such a tall, hunky slab of meat like you...” It pondered that, as it hovered over the object of its newfound admiration. It stared at his slack-jawed expression, and peered at Orson’s open mouth. It looked back at its arms, still flowed into his two feline ears, and finally, it decided. “I think you’re gonna keep a new ‘guest’ in your ‘home’ for a little while!”
The thoughts it had seemed to seep into Orson’s head, both informing and commanding. His jaw opened wider, as the fluid in his ears finally abated, but never retreated. The stream split: the slime in his head seemed to seep even deeper than before, and the slime outside collected up into a single gelatinous mass, reared up over his body. It shot into his mouth in one tremendous flow, flushing down his gullet as fast as it could, expanding his throat with each wave. Less than half a minute passed before he gulped down every drop of slime, and he took the deepest gasp of breath he could.
He panted, collecting himself, hand straying over his engorged belly. With each breath, though, Orson could begin to recognize he wasn’t the one moving around. He – no, whatever was in control – smirked.
“Hahah...!” he laughed. “This is so weird! I know I said you were a skin suit, earlier, but I didn’t mean it so literally...!” He rubbed his tummy. “The last guy, I just puppeted however I wanted, kind of just twisting around his limbs and voice however I wanted, but this time it feels like you’re just a brand new body for me to use!”
His hand caressed over his engorged midsection, and he pouted. “Something’s not right here, though... I was kind of looking forward to just diving in and enjoying your body as it was, but I guess diving down into your belly didn’t do your figure any favours... That, and...” He couldn’t help but grimace, as his stomach growled and shifted. “It’s weirdly tingly in there...”
A moment of pondering, and an idea came to mind. Slowly, his gut began to shrink down and flatten once more. Within him, the slime aggressively shifted through his stomach, seeping through the cells and spreading through his circulatory system, piece by piece. They spread through his body in all directions, resting within the muscle tissue and tendons spread throughout his strong body. On the outside, each moment of their fusion seemed to expand his muscles, his physique widening. Inside, the slime was now spread evenly and tightly within his musculature, making its control over his body absolute. Every fiber of his being responded to the will of a new, more responsive nervous system, now embedded deep into his core.
He looked over himself as his biceps bulged effortlessly. A smile curled across his lips. “That’s more like it~” he growled. He raised his arms and flexed them, watching the muscle expand more, even seeing the veins bulge little by little. A quick flex of his chest, and his pecs did much the same, bouncing lively with the slightest exertion. Perhaps it was something the slime took from its other host – or even from the farmboy – but there was a simple pleasure in watching himself flex and stress his form in various poses. He was disappointed there was nothing to view his physique within, but even the tension created as the muscles curled and stretched felt satisfying.
There was a thought tickling deep within his mind, even as he performed for himself. His pout returned as he mulled the thought aloud: “I guess I should let this guy have his body back at some point...” The slime within recognized the thought to be from Orson himself, not from its design; a host’s brain would still express itself even as it took control, manifesting its desires as a quiet – sometimes even subconscious – train of thought. Its own mind was shaped by copying another, so who was to say that this catboy wouldn’t further shape the slime’s thoughts? Eventually he would have to let Orson go, and perhaps it was wisest to do it before it was too deeply changed.
Even as it contemplated, another concern was invading the forefront of its thoughts: an ache and longing within Orson’s crotch. He looked down, and smirked. “I’ll get to that later, though~!” He reached down and tugged the waistline of his trousers down, eager to play with a familiar toy. His cock sprung out from beneath, bobbing in the forest air. Desire welled within him, and he dare not refuse it for long. His hand wrapped around the pole, and greedily rubbed up and down its length.
The pleasure shot through his body immediately as he stroked his dick with fervor, no attempt to pace himself. His free hand groped at his chest, rubbing over his sensitive nipples as he greedily fondled his engorged muscles. Air escaped his throat in a familiar noise, rolling and rattling. The slime within him was easily amused by the purring its captive body made so effortlessly, spurring on even more pleasure. The incredible burst of ecstasy built by the combined beings made the climb to the edge all the faster. No gentleness, no pacing, no wish to remain in the moment a while longer... There was no need for any of that. He knew right away this masturbation couldn’t last much longer.
He was proven right as his seed climbed up his cock, eager to release hard and fast. His mewling grew into a roar, as his cum exploded out of him, flying well over his head and onto the grass below. His senses melted into white-hot ecstasy, as his body was wracked with the decadence of orgasm, wave after wave.
Quickly as it came, the pleasure faded quickly and quietly, leaving the cum-soaked stud to collect himself. The intensity of the orgasm left him dazed, even a bit confused. It took a moment before he could recall what had happened, and who he was. He was a slime...? Not quite. He was a farmer? Almost... He’s... Both? He nodded, as it slowly came back to him. Right, he’s got a slime inside of him, controlling him... And that slime was gonna give him his body back... Eventually.
Gliding his rough hands over his gigantic pecs, grazing over the tuft of chest hair... He wasn’t ready to let go just yet. There was more time to play, and more people he wanted to show off to. A nagging thought in the back of his head kept him from leaving the farm, but he knew a way to get at least one person to see his newest prize.
The farm had a new visitor within a few days of the slime’s invasion. It was one more mouth to feed, but it was certainly an eager mouth, especially if that slime had anything to say about it. Orson purred as the halfling did all he could to swallow his meaty cock.
“Come on, you can go a bit deeper than that,” he growled, as he rubbed the halfling’s crown. But every attempt to take more down his gullet was accompanied by sputters and coughs and gagging. The halfling could only look up in annoyance as he continued pushing himself to swallow down more. He didn’t have to say it. The slime could hear the complaint rattling around in his head loud as day: this cock is too damn big!
And somewhere in his head, there was this recognition that the short man was probably right. It certainly wasn’t that long earlier, when the slime first invaded his body. It was an idea that came to him when he first summoned the ranger. Even as his muscles were eagerly worshipped and massaged by those dexterous hands, he thought of how easy it was to spread the slime inside of him and expand those muscles. He contemplated if there were other parts of him that he could grow, if he just redirected a little bit of that slime?
It was a worthwhile experiment, at least, as it made clear the slime could move in and out of his body parts without trouble. When the day comes that he lets Orson have his freedom back, the slime could effortlessly slink back out of his mouth and into the shadows, and the catboy could move on like it was all one big dream. But each day, as he tended to the farm, there was an itch in his mind that the slime could stay – maybe not all of it, but enough that he could keep some of the extra muscle, just to make the work easier on him.
Just for a moment, the slime differentiated itself from his mind, just to make clear that it should probably leave soon. Looking back down at its halfling thrall, and seeing the struggle to fellate the engorged dick below and feeling the tickling pleasure running up Orson’s spine... It was willing to wait just a bit longer before leaving him be.