I hate fighting slimes.
Always have. Everyone else has a fairly decent tool to fend off those sentient blobs. Slashing and hacking at them eventually scares them off, and they scurry off even faster when a mace or some other blunt weapon blasts them into fifty shambling drops across the field. Magic users have it even easier, as even the weakest elemental spells will blow them away, if not outright kill them. The richest marksmen have crossbows and firearms that shoot ridiculously fast projectiles that just carry a bunch of residue with them, as they tear through a wriggling and clueless mass.
Me? I got a bow. Sure, if I have the element of surprise, I can tear right through one or two of them before they get 'wise.' But arrows are just slow enough for a slime to slip and reform itself out of the way of the arrows. Don't know how they have such badass reflexes with no brains... Of course, most people would remark on how they're hardly even worth the weaponry, and you can just crush them under your boot or smash them apart with one good kick. And I often remind them that they tend to have a pretty good height or weight advantage against them. Slimes don't tend to grow much bigger than 3 feet on their own, and often weigh the same as a few well-packed bags of potatoes, so any human or elf or dwarf or what-fucking-ever could make short work of a more courageous slime.
I, however, am a fucking halfling, and happen to share those last three traits in common with slimes.
There aren't exactly a lot of people who share this sentiment with me, if you can imagine. Sure, a lot of the taller races aren't fond of slimes because they muck up their clothing, or their weapons end up having a gooey sheen for a couple days or so, or they smell weird after getting singed with a firebolt, but they don't try coming up with a path that avoids them over other threats, like wolves. I - and every halfling rogue or marksman I've run across - would rather take the wolves, but I'm never partied up with the Anklebiter Assembly, so I'm always the only person requesting we brave the wolves over traversing along a slime-infested riverbed. And of course, if I do the one smart thing for me in the situation and chill in the back row, the bastards I'm travelling with always call me out! What am I supposed to do? Lob all of my arrows at the floppy bitches and pray they let me hit them once or twice!?
Of course, at least I have someone watching my back in those cases. The worst times I've had to deal with them are when I'm all by my lonesome.
It's my own damn fault I was on my own this time; I had spent the last few nights hopping from tavern to tavern, trying to nab a spot in any halfway-handsome man's bed. No luck on the first three nights, and then finally, when I do get a burly half-orc to sleep with me, the asshole makes away with the rest of my money before I'm even awake! He didn't really take much else, thank god, but one night of rough fucking and two loads of thick, virile cum coating my insides is not fucking worth 75 of my hard-earned silver pieces! If I had paid any attention, and maybe got a bit less comfortable with his fat cock rubbing my sore ass as he spooned me, I would have woken up before him and scurried out with all my earnings still intact... Instead, I'm out in the woods on my own, hunting game and a few rogue wolves that were causing the nearby villages some trouble, just to fill my wallet back up.
The first wolf and its pelt bought me the trust of a spindly old farmer, who lent me his cart to carry my next haul: some coneys and a deer that found their way to the butcher's table, and two silver pieces that found their way into my purse. It was a decent start. If the farmer doesn't throw a fit, I could get away with a few more deliveries, and the coin I get from those will fund my personal expenses on my next joint adventure! That's what I told myself, up until I pulled the cart up to a pond for a break. I scanned the coast thoroughly, or I assume I did. Pond was maybe 100 yards across, host to a few families of fish, connected to the river flowing from the mountains to the northwest and the brook that flowed through the center of town back to the east. And not a single drop of slime residue to be seen for at least 20 yards around me!
I found a seat beneath a young oak tree, and scavenged through my bag. The cook offered me some spare bread after hearing what I went through, which was nice. One bite into the hard loaf convinced me the gesture wasn't just about being nice, though I guess a meal's a meal. The shade was a nice retreat from the heat of the sun above, so it was easy to let myself relax beneath the tree. I chomped and chewed my way through the loaf, idly watching the clouds float by, as I concocted a strategy to fill my purse back up. There was a familiar face or two at the tavern; if they haven't set off already, I could try and tag along with one of those groups once I have enough for a week's worth of inn stays. By that point, any half-decent quest would pay for itself, right? I'd have enough to restock my arrows and pay for a good few more adventures, and soon enough I'd be back up to 75 silver or more! All it would take is maybe a month or two of hard work, and I'd be back on my feet!
A sudden squelching sound came from in front of me, and I was back on my feet in an instant.
"Shit, what the fuck--!" I cursed under my breath as I dashed for my bow and the cart. Fuck this. Absolutely fucking not. If that was a slime, I have no goddamn time for it. I didn't even bother looking back until I had the cart hoisted up. I should not have looked. "What the fuck...!?"
The mass shambling onto dry ground didn't take the same shape as any other slime I've had to witness. This one didn't see to know what shape it wanted, as it forced itself forward in a violent mess of green-ish translucent goop. I don't know if it was fear or bewilderment that froze me in place, but I was bolted to the ground, just watching it make its way to me as it began to form feet, and then legs that extended up from those feet, then a groin, and a chest, and arms... When I could see the head form, my feet found their way off the ground again, only for my ass to meet it instead. This slime found a shape at last, and it looked eerily close to my own!
I was panicking; I must have been, because what other idiot would bother pulling out a bow on a slime that was only a few feet in front of them? And what idiot would bother screaming at it: "Don't move another step, freak, or I'll blow you to pieces!" Why bother, right? It must have done something for it, though, because it stood in place in front of me. It tilted its head. I kept the arrow trained on its chest; probably the smartest thing I did in the moment, since it didn't have a brain in its head. It looked at the bow, or at least I have to assume it did, because the next thing it did was look at its own left hand and shoot out two ropes of slime out of it. They slithered and flailed before finding their shape: a drawn bow the same size as my own, complete with an arrow at the ready. I relaxed my draw, struck with awe, letting the arrowhead rest on the ground. Its own bow shifted to match my own bow's new form.
There was silence between us. I opened my mouth to try and speak, but couldn't find any words. My mouth just rested ajar as my eyes darted around, searching for anything to say. When they returned to the slime, it seemed to have pushed down its jaw and formed a maw of its own, opened slightly. I shut my mouth and prayed it would follow suit. It did. Oh, thank so many gods, it did. But the strange blobby mirror decided to continue its psychological torture in other ways, as it closed the distance between its face and mine. It seemed to scan over my face more and more, and right before my eyes, it fixed itself to match. The featureless visage began to define itself with eyes, a nose, lips, ears, even forming a facsimile of my hair and stubble. The strange teal face that presented before me was now eerily similar to my own. It was more pleasant on the eyes now, at least... It slipped down and fiddled with my coat and other gear, beginning to morph its silhouette of my outfit into a detailed copy.
My voice finally found me, but I almost wish it didn't. "Um... hey...?" I stammered, but with the first noise, its face shot up to meet mine again. "So I'm not exactly sure what party tricks you're planning on pulling past this point, but I'm a bit busy, so maybe you can just save it for someone el--"
It caught me as my mouth was open, shooting its arm inside. My screams were muffled by the invading gelatin, as it shifted itself to match the forms and shapes inside my mouth and sunk deeper down my throat. I was certain it would drown me if it kept going, but it stopped short. It wriggled and flexed against my windpipe, searching for something. I was desperately hoping it would find whatever it wanted, as tears welled up and my gag reflex kicked in. Just as I feared it was trying to suffocate me, though, it retreated, leaving me coughing and sputtering. It didn't leave behind a drop of itself in my throat, thankfully, so collecting myself only took a moment. "Don't-- don't fucking do that again...!"
I looked back at it to find its neck flailing and shifting in a horrible display. Its mouth followed suit, and eventually, its lips parted, offering a horrid revelation in a watery facsimile of my own voice, with just two small sounds escaping it: "Um... Hey...?"
My legs found their strength, and I bounded back. I didn't waste a moment in escaping, but neither did it in capturing me, bounding off its feet and splashing down onto my limbs, pinning me with my back to the ground. I didn't have the strength to push it off me; it was over. I winced and waited for my fate to befall me. That fate never found me, whatever it was, and I looked up to see the slimy copycat staring down at me. It opened its mouth again, parroting me once more: "Hey... Don't fucking do that again...?"
It was strange having it voice its disapproval in my own voice. More intriguing was how fast it was learning. It was such a short interaction, but it was already understanding the common language. Perhaps if I taught it enough in a short span, I could convince it to let me go...? "You're uh... You're pretty smart, buddy, for not having a brain in your head..."
It eyed me curiously. "Brain...?"
I shut my mouth. Given what it did to figure out speech, I should've known that was the absolute worst thing I could say in the moment, and yet I fucking said it. It waited for my answer, but I gave it nothing. It searched me over, fiddling and poking at my clothes and my body, trying to find its answer. "Brain? Brain...? Brain?" I was tempted to laugh when it chose to cup my package, but then it chose to poke my forehead right after. "Brain...?" I restrained every natural impulse I could, refusing to give it a hint.
That's when its finger slipped into my ear canal curiously. "Brain...?" The cold, wet touch left me shivering in surprise, but worse yet, I realized what came next. Even if I didn't hint at it, it found its target, or at least a path to it.
I grimaced, but relaxed myself. If I was lucky, it would be quick. If not, maybe it would feel good along the way..? "Just... be gentle, okay...?"
It nodded, but the force that followed didn't convince me that it understood. Fluid shot into my head through my ear with a sharp pain, slipping past all the defenses of my skull. I shrieked from the pain, but just once. As it entered my head, the pain seemed to cease. Its invasion didn't hurt for any longer than an instant, but I couldn't feel relief. The idea of relief didn't come. My eyelid twitched. Gasps and moans spilled idly from my lips. I lied there as it sank its shifting arm inside my head, my muscles flexing and extending on their own, in response to something beyond my control. My jaw was slacked, my vision fixed and unfocused. What little I could register was blurred, but I could see light flicker and shift inside its translucent head, transforming within itself. Memories flashed in my mind with no reason, knowledge resurfacing without a purpose, but not a thought that came to the forefront was mine to make. Drool seeped from the corners of my lips. My eyes began to roll up into my head. I could narrowly see that the light in its head stopped shifting around so much, but it did not leave my skull.
My eyes pulled back down, not of my own will. I met the eyes of the impostor before me. With a bit more awareness, I might've been able to see the glimmer of thought behind its eyes, but that would prove redundant once it spoke: "Oh, so that's why you were so uncomfortable with me a little bit ago~!" I couldn't respond. I hadn't the sense to respond. It hardly needed a response, though. As it continued its invasion, it formed a smirk on its face, one that grew as it dug deeper into the folds and cracks of my mind. "Wow, there's a lot inside this head of yours! I think I'm understanding more about you than even you know about yourself! Things that gross you out, things you hate, things you enjoy, things that..." It brought its face closer to me. "... Excite you..?" It giggled, before it seemed to grip something specific. "But how about you tell me a bit more about yourself, anyway? I wanna hear what you've got against slimes like me; what makes you hate running into us?"
My lips formed the words on their own: "Sl-- Slimes are dumb... feral magical creatures... Their only instinct is to- t- to attack people and run away... I w-wouldn't even mind them so much if they- they fucked me or something afterward... But they're just nuisances without a brain or any purpose... They o-only exist to pester people... And I can't do anything to s-stop them..."
That answer seemed to please the slime, if its chuckle was any indication. "No brain? What, you mean like that sack of fat in your head? We're so beneath you because we don't have one of these?" It shoved its finger against and into its head, liquid squishing into itself. "Well, I made one of these in just a couple minutes! How long did it take you to put yours together? Twenty years or more, right? I took a few minutes to get done what took you a few decades, and I'm the dumb, feral creature?" I was just aware enough to know what it was doing, but had no way of stopping it. Not that it was being very subtle about its intentions, if the squishing of its crotch against my strained bulge was any indication. "What's so great about yours, anyway? You don't even have control over this stupid thing, do you? And you filled it up with all these fantasies and desires to be subjugated and used? Where's the confidence? The dominance? The assertion? This thing seems kinda worthless, if you ask me~!"
"Y-yes master... My brain sucks... I don't even know how to use it right..." It knew better. We both knew that it knew better. I couldn't exactly shape and morph my brain to work the way I wanted it to, not how it could. It just wanted to tease and humiliate me in all the ways it knew would get me off the most.
"Well, maybe you should stop trying to use it," it suggested. "Look how well I'm using it right now: I'm getting that dick of yours hard as it's ever been, filling your head with more pleasure than you've gotten with all those satyrs and orcs and centaurs you've rode-- How the hell did you manage to ride a centaur, by the way...? No way that ass is supposed to be that flexible..!"
"I know, right? That cock should've killed me!" I wasn't actually sure if that was my own response, or if the slime imitated my sense of humour too. That made finding the source of the next words all the more puzzling. "Yeah, you should use my brain for me..."
"Oh, me?" It decided to get a bit more dramatic in its antics. "I couldn't possibly do that! I'm just a lowly little slime, aren't I?" It emphasized each word with a thrust against my crotch, forcing me to moan in time. "I can't go around taking over people's minds and bodies! No, nonono, I've got a better idea; one that you might find is a bit more 'mutually beneficial,' if you can figure out what that means with that chunk of meat in your skull~!" Its grip inside my head flexed in a weird spot, and an explosion of pleasure radiated through my body. Each squeeze shot another burst of the same sensation, pulsating hardest in my loins, begging for release. "Feel how easy it is for me to bring you right to the edge? You wanna cum so bad, don't you?"
"Yes master..." It didn't prompt that out of me. I wanted to cum. I wasn't even aware of how much control I had gained back, but I was flustered and grinding my hips into its crotch.
"And you like me taking the reins like this?"
"Yes master..."
"You want me to stay inside your head like this, don't you?"
"Yes master..."
"You uh..." It chuckled. "You really like calling me 'master,' huh?"
I could feel the goofy grin spreading on my face. "Yes master~"
"Well, I can't just stay straddled on top of you like this for the rest of your life, can I?" To my chagrin, it had a point. That's when I could feel its liquid arm slipping out of the same ear it entered. There was a hint of fear it would pull out my brain with it, and a hint of disappointment that it was finished playing with my mind. It stood up, and reached out its now solid hand - or at least, it was more solid than a moment ago. I grabbed hold, and let it hoist me back to my feet. It gave me a smile, as it spoke, "So let me show you what I've got in mind for you~!"
My hands reached my pants and pulled them down, to my shock. "Wait, what--!?" I had my hands pulling down my underwear, revealing my twitching rod to my master. My hips moved on their own, thrusting into its crotch, submerging my cock as deep as I could get it into its green, gooey body. I only had a moment to realize it was still taking control of me, when I felt the flexing in my brain harder than before. My mind exploded into a white-hot pleasure, shooting out the end of my shaft into its body. I couldn't help but shout in ecstasy, probably loud enough that I could be heard back in the village. My gaze stayed pointed at my throbbing meat, watching as my balls emptied out inside my master. Spurts of cum shot inside of it, collecting together, before diluting and combining with the rest of the fluid of its form. I could hear its sighs of contentment in my own voice.
"That was awesome~!" It sent the command to my mind, and I pulled myself out of it, my cock cleaner and drier than I would've expected before today. "And most of you people-types shoot cum like that, right? That tastes divine!"
I stayed in place for just a moment, before reaching for the beltline of my pants. "So... I guess I'm just your thrall now, or your mindslave, or whatever, huh? What are you planning on doing with me long-term...?" Now that my arousal had died down, the implications started creeping upon me. The shapeshifting slime before me just guffawed at the remark.
"Oh yeah, I'm gonna start taking over the world, obviously, starting with getting you to help me enslave that pitiful village you're hanging around!" It kept laughing, patting my shoulder. "No, no, I don't give a shit about that kinda garbage! I literally just gained sentience within the last hour; I'm gonna enjoy it with my new boytoy, and see if I can put together a nice collection of guys like you later down the line!" So it only seemed to be interested in sex so far. That was a relief for me. The thought was still itching at the back of my mind, but only for a moment longer before it just vanished. "So here's how the rest of the deal works: I decide when you get to cum, and get some real estate on your thoughts and knowledge. What you get is this little film of my slime covering your brain," it made a swirling gesture with its finger over my forehead, "and what that's gonna do is cover your brain just enough that I can remote control you whenever I want, while still letting you think of your own accord and maintain full control of your body the rest of the time. So you get to have your little fantasy of being a brain slave to some magical creature type and maintain some sense of autonomy!"
"That's... great and all, but..." I was concerned about where the line between my thoughts and its thoughts existed, if I would be able to still tell which was which, or if it's already irreversibly altered my mind to follow its will, and it only seems like I've agreed to it. Suddenly, though, the concern disappeared. It was kind of a stupid thing to think about in the first place. Did it really matter whose thoughts were on the forefront, when its brain is basically the same as mine? I shook my head. "No, nevermind, I'm cool with that."
There was definitely a change in how I thought, though. Specifically in how I thought about slimes. My adventures did finally pick up, not taking me too far from that village, but I swear that half of those expeditions were just slime magnets. Whenever we passed through slime-infested bodies of water, I couldn't bring myself to attack those slimes at all. My hand just wouldn't reach my bowstring. How could I, knowing the potential they had? They didn't deserve to be beaten down so ruthlessly. Of course, I was stuck just watching my fellows drop and run away as the brutish adventurers came at them with such violence in their hearts. Sabotaging their wanton destruction would turn their gaze on me, and god knows I share too much in common with those squiggling pals to survive that. Convincing them to reroute was no easier now than before. All I could do was witness their plight from afar, much as I did before.
I hate fighting slimes.
The following chapter is a commission from a client that has chosen to remain anonymous.
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.
The following chapter is a commission from a client that has chosen to remain anonymous.
The most common through-line in defining the threat a monster poses is its intellect – or lack thereof. While many trolls can seem physically unapproachable, their lack of wit is often used against them, even by the less tactful of adventurers. Meanwhile, monsters that don’t hold imposing physique – mindflayers, as an example – are more terrifying for their insurmountable minds, and are often the least desirable monster to cross paths with.
The average slime – by this logic – holds no threat at all to the average adventurer. It already wants for brute force, but the creatures hold no conceivable sentience. Its goals in “life” are nonexistent: its method of feeding seems as simple as entering a body of water, it holds no prey or predator that guides any potential survival instincts, and reproduction – if necessary at all – is asexual. How could anyone find threat in a shambling blob of fluid, no smarter than an insect half its size?
Such theory felt like anathema to the green mass – shaped as a halfling might look – as it gazed at its blue peer. It needed no convincing that it was an exception borne of a fluke, but acknowledging its newfound position in life brought it to wistful contemplation any time it spotted one of its baser brethren. It wasn’t certain if such feelings may have been built from the personality of the halfling, but it couldn’t simply wipe away the queer compassion. Could it justify the hedonism it played into, when no other slime could even perceive the freedoms it had gained?
The blue slime clamoured along the shoreline. The green one stared. Its brow furrowed. It stood up from under the tree’s shade, and strode to its unenlightened fellow. A plan formed within its mind. It didn’t need to drag the blue slime to another one of those fleshy sentient beings, when it had something far more malleable (and probably smarter, at this point) to work with. All it needed was a little bit of itself.
The distance between them was no more than a yard, when one of those green, slimy arms shifted into a tendril, or even a lance of slime. Swift and precise, it pierced deep into the center of the blue blob. It squelched, just a little bit. The green fluid that penetrated inside began to change in shape: separating from its source, it collected into a mass, divided down its middle into two distinct bulbs. Those bulbs had slithering valleys sink into them, defining the pathways on the surface. The green slime recalled the shape well: its greatest treasure, found inside the first skull it invaded.
The response wasn’t immediate. Even as the green mass of slime pulsated noticeably inside the blue pile, it didn’t seem to respond to the electrical impulses being forced into its limited nervous system. But the green shapeshifter – now kneeling at the riverbed, sucking up water to replace that which it had donated – knew the nature of its species well enough: absorption. If it can make something join with it, it will join them.
Sure enough, the green brain started to shift in colour – but not in shape. It was packed densely enough that the blue slime couldn’t simply devour it. In trying to assimilate the mass, it was forced to adapt to it. It was forced to examine it. Imitate it.
It was forced to learn.
The new center of its nervous system maintained its shape, but every last drop outside of it quivered and convulsed. Its form splashed violently, but each drop that separated from that slime swiftly rolled back into the shaking mass. That mass began to define itself, one extremity at a time. One leg first; the opposite arm; the other leg; a small and stubby part – the green one squinted and wondered why the cock would come next; but the final arm was quickly followed by the neck and head forming. The assimilated slime brain – even as it lost its shape and was fully absorbed – swam into that squishy crown.
The bias of the green slime began to show: after all, that slimy organ was made of its own thoughts and experiences, so what other form would start to shape in the blue slime? Its form “solidified” in a shape mirroring that of a halfling male – the one the green slime had claimed as its thrall not too long ago. Seeing this, the green one’s satisfied smirk shifted into a pout. It realized – as the newly sentient being stood and observed itself – it made this blue slime into a copy of itself.
As the blue slime glanced at the green, it made the exact same face.
“This... is a little awkward, isn’t it?”
The green slime looked up and down its freshly made twin. To its chagrin, it appeared to be a perfect copy, colouring aside. No distinguishing features that defined it as its own being. Only making it worse: it was just as aware and disgruntled of that fact. The green slime sighed. “Okay, I might not have thought this through as much as I’d have liked...”
The blue one groaned. “Well, lesson learned for both of us, I guess: If you’re just trying to jumpstart a slime’s rise to sentience, don’t give it an entire brain to map out...?” It dropped onto its rear end, splashing on contact with the ground. It stared at the flowing water. Its foot slips into the flow, and sops some of the rushing fluid into itself. “Do you think I can at least grow a little with a bit more water?”
“Probably,” the green slime thought aloud, “but still, one of us is gonna have to change...” It pondered, when it spotted something – no, someone – in the distance. A mass of dark clothing and long black hair was all it could make out, but it spurred a new plan in its mind. “How about that one?”
The blue slime stared out, past the pointed finger. Squinting, it couldn’t make out any more than its cohort. “Well,” it grumbled, “if that’s the form you want, I’m not gonna stop you. Still leaves us with a few problems if all you’re doing is shapeshifting--”
“Not for me,” it corrected. “And we’re not stopping at shapeshifting!” It whispered its plot into the blue one’s ear.
- - - - - - -
There was something strangely humiliating about crawling along the ground as a shapeless blob again. Even with a target in mind, the blue slime couldn’t help but feel less, as they drooled along the ground to the person nearby. It was all the worse that they had to make a point of squelching noisily, to draw attention to itself. It wasn’t even sure it wanted this new form; there was no reason why the green bastard couldn’t do this instead.
In time, though, as it approached closer, the person took notice. Eyes peered out from under black locks of hair to the creature shambling along. “The fuck...? Just some dumbass slime...” The voice was deeper and more rugged than either of the slimes. He leered in disinterest at the mass. His hand was already wrapped upon the handle of his weapon. The blue slime couldn’t help but panic, watching the complete apathy in his movements. He swung down.
But the slime had a fight or flight reflex now, and both found just how fast a motivated blob could slip behind a man’s legs.
“The fuck...!?” Any other creature, and he’d have recovered and struck again by now, but a slime moving so deftly? He was reeling, and the slime saw its chance. His muscles betrayed him as the weight of the wet creature slammed into his back, toppling him to the ground. “Damnit...! Get off of me...!”
It was a struggle, keeping the man down. The slime grappled against him, keeping its grip on the ground and his body simultaneously, but even that took effort it didn’t know it had. If it wasn’t quick, the consequences may be worse than his escape. With one more split of its focus, a tendril of goo manifested from its body. Thought and knowledge made the task of finding its objective much easier than its predecessor.
It plunged the arm of slime into the man’s ear.
“Hggkh...! Fuck..!” He could only curse as the slime invaded his skull. It seeped swiftly into the inner reaches, and found its prize. Pain morphed quickly to a dumbfounded expression on his face, unable to control himself under its grip, as it took hold of his brain. Triumph filling its mind, more slime surged down the arm buried into the man’s head, and coated more of the mind within. Each moment, with another crevasse of his brain folds mapped out, a new surge of information flowed into the monster, and a new identity formed inside of it.
Now, though, its goal in hand, the slime could finally relax, and began to reform itself. But its interest in the form of a halfling was lost, as it continued to steal more thoughts, more memories, more wisdom and intellect. More identity for it to forge itself with. This man – Miles, as it found his name to be – was its new muse. Its mass extended out once again into limbs, thicker and longer than before. Its core collected together into a meaty chest and tummy. Its attempt to mimic hair was less exact, choosing instead to make the locks into a singular mass, still distinct from the rest of its body parts as it flowed past its shoulders.
Its form was now a picturesque clone of Miles’s – all but the facial expression; its glorious smirk was quite distinct compared to the rogue’s glassy-eyed stare and half-opened mouth. It stood straddling his chest, an arm still buried deep into his ear canal. There was still one more thing it needed to copy in order to complete its transformation. Its free arm was gentler in its entry to his gaping maw, pouring inside to find his vocal cords. Coating the inside of his throat, lathering the bumps and features that formed his means of speech, finding the difference in its own and adjusting to match... Its own neck warped and shifted, and soon enough, it spoke again – deeper and burlier than before.
“That’s more like it...” Its arm retreated – the one in his throat. The other arm remained inside Miles’s skull. His eyes were pointed lazily at the slime that claimed his form as its own, mouth still agape. Its objective was met, but the shapeshifter didn’t yield control back to the man. It wore a devious grin. In the folds of Miles’s mind, it found something – a deep-seated desire it was uniquely qualified to root out.
The slime sunk its face down to meet Miles’s. “Earlier, I was just looking to sneak up on you and copy your personality and looks; see, the little fuck that made me smart enough to trick your ass insisted I steal your form...” It gestures back, toward the treeline. “But you wanna know something? It’s really comfy inside your head~!” It played coy, as if it made any difference to Miles in the moment. To some degree, it knew the man could hear every word, but it kept him from reacting externally – at least, it was restricting any voluntary and inconvenient movements he might make. But there was a twitch – subtle as could be – in his trousers, as his captor hinted at its intentions.
The slime already know how it would take control of Miles; it may now play preference to the fresh new personality it cloned, but it had memories of the green slime’s earlier conquests. Its arm detached. The fluid remaining outside his skull surged inside, finding its home within his skull. The remainder of the slime on top rushed into his opened mouth, spilling in faster than he could swallow down – and the slime made sure he would gulp down as much as he could. Miles convulsed as he was filled with the monster.
Quick as it sank into his stomach, the slime seeped into his veins, riding its way through to every muscle it could merge with, swelling them. His body bulged in every direction. Each moment built on a surge of power, but that surge was stifled more and more each second. Arms already enlarged, they grasp at his clothing and hastily disrobe each layer. Soon, the possessed man was exposed to the elements, especially the rod between his legs, hard as a rock and larger than he’d seen it before. The slime curled his lips into a satisfied grin.
“That’s more fuckin’ like it...” Miles ran his hands over his body, admiring each inch. The slime inside him took in every sensation from his touch. It found fascination in this body with each touch. It found allure in the difference in texture of his hairs: the long locks spilling down from his head it had felt against its liquid form earlier, but the feel of his hands grazing over the lawn of hairs on his chest and down his tummy felt more coarse, more ticklish, and more erotic. It admired the feel of his stocky body – enlarged as it was by the invading creature. “This feels fuckin’ amazing...”
A curious hand finally brushed over his erection, and just the faintest touch was electric. Miles gasped. The slime inside him was aware of sexual gratification, how it felt, even having memories of experiencing it, but now it could truly feel what it meant to be aroused, to be pleasured... And every sensation it desired was enhanced all the further from Miles’s own. It could feel it within him: to be left a passenger in his own body was exhilarating, arousing beyond relief. Calling this meeting fate felt strange, but how convenient for the slime to have this man nearby as it looked for a new form!
From the edge of the trees nearby, the halfling shape of the green slime emerged. “I see you two are having fun,” it chuckled.
Miles looked up – though not very far up. His hand remained stroking his cock. Restrained as they were, Miles’s thoughts were caught between the pleasure he experienced and the realization there was another slime capable of reason. His surprise in that might have shown more, were the blue slime not in control of his body. “Hope you weren’t looking to join me in here; there’s not much room in him, and I don’t think I wanna leave any time soon~!” Internally, that one comment brought a surge of pleasure and fear. Miles moaned, narrowly avoiding a premature end to his masturbation.
The green slime looked between Miles’s legs. “I dunno, I see some room~” He could guess its intent, but before it took the plunge, it proved to be dissatisfied with its current form. It wanted something just a touch bigger. It squished into itself, from a halfling to a towering blob instantly. It took a moment longer to shape itself in a new form: a man with feline ears and tail, with a broader chest, longer locks of “hair” than the halfling – though not longer than Miles’s...
... And, strangely, its body was a touch shorter than before. It looked over itself, grimacing. “Damn, need more water if I wanna transform into that farmer proper, huh...?”
Miles scoffed. “Well, aren’t you fuckin’ adorable?” His jeering brought a pouting to the slime’s face. “Don’t worry, short stuff: size doesn’t matter~!”
It raised its eyebrows, as it sank to its knees between his legs. “Yeah, I guess it doesn’t~”
The surge of pressure against his hole was wet and just a touch cooler than the air around them. He yelped, as his ass gave way to the intruding goo, liquid seeping inside him almost effortlessly. The farmer’s form sank down in height, as the slime seeped more of itself inside him. The rushing liquid convulsed inside him, wriggling inside his walls, pushing him closer to the edge again. Soon, it solidified, stretching his sphincter wide. He held within him a green cock of perfect size to fill him, his body a mold for the slime to forge its sword.
The green slime smirked. Its tool ready to use, it rocked within him. Each squelching thrust milked a mewling from Miles’s throat. He could tell he wouldn’t last long at all, given how close he already was. Underneath the slime’s control, he was furiously horny, and the mix of so many stimulus made it a trial to hold himself back as it was.
The gates flung open, eventually, as he howled in ecstasy. Rope after rope of cum shot forward from him bobbing cock. Some splashed into the slime railing him, some onto his belly, some on his thighs... The last of it dribbled pathetically down his glans, and rolled down onto his fingers. As it did, the green morphling, smirking, brought its fluid arm along each splash of jism on his body, slurping it up greedily.
It pulled out of his hole effortlessly; the only evidence it was inside him at all was the satisfying emptiness in Miles’s asshole. “Well, that was fun~” It splashed back, back in the form of the halfling in an instant. “Oh, before I forget: you’ll want to exit his body at some point, or you risk forgetting you’re a slime possessing a body in the first place.”
Miles raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that...?”
“I... don’t...” it stuttered, “But you have to remember: this is completely uncharted territory, what we’re doing here. I already felt weirdly like Orson after just a day or two in his body...”
He looked over himself. He could feel that twinge of fear inside him, less mixed with the earlier arousal. But the slime inside him did its best to shake off that concern. What it saw was a handsome body to waltz around in, that it could entertain itself with until it felt sated. A body it didn’t want to abandon – not so soon after finding it. “I’ll take my chances,” he declared. “Maybe I should become a bit more like Miles here; you were the one that wanted one of us to change so badly~!”
The green slime squinted, but it could see its words wouldn’t find much purchase now. It wagered it would be safer if the blue slime only took the one host anyway – or, if it attached enough to its hosts, that it took its sweet time finding its next one. At least if it was slow in its potential conquests, these shapeshifting brethren wouldn’t catch too much attention, and they could continue their mischief quietly. In its mind, though, it knew: two sentient slimes was already more than most people could fathom. I can’t make any more of us, it vowed. Certainly not yet.
To Be Continued