Slime of Your Life

Marcc sat in the doctor's office on the one-hundred-fifth floor of the All Medical Center, the largest medical facility in all New Mureybet. To have a universal health care system was quite an accomplishment, considering the forty different species of intelligent life form that inhabited New Mureybet. This didn't include the myriad of half-breed and quarter-breed species, of which Marcc was unwittingly a member. A half-elf with no training in magic, he came to New Mureybet to study law. Studying law among the seeming chaos of spells and airships of this city... it was as if they were mocking his desire to bring order to his life.

The office was sterile, mostly whites and baby blues, a reclining chair he expected to see in a dentist's office. The arms and legs could be magically enchanted to accommodate the shortest goblin to the tallest minotaur. The default setting was fine for his six-foot frame. He tried to relax, hearing the gentle hum of the time crystal on the desk.

Marcc leaned into his hand, his slightly stubby ear resting into his palm, and he stared at the door, waiting for the doctor to arrive. He heard a strange noise, like the sound of pouring something down the sink. He looked over to the sink and pointed his ear near the drain. The sound didn't appear to be coming from there.

Marcc turned around suddenly as he heard the pipes in the ceiling rattle as something moved through them. There was a threaded corner pipe hanging from the ceiling that dropped directly into the center of the room. A large purple-pink drop formed at the outlet of the pipe, hanging like the tail of a kite. The drop became a flow of purpleish ichor. As it hit the floor, it didn't splatter like water or oil, but aggregated into a tall stack like loose gelatin.

The stack rose into a feminine shape, just above five feet tall and with all the womanly features one would expect, arms, legs, hair, a face, breasts... but no clothing. The woman's face was delicately shaped, with her 'hair' a darker purple and patches of dimmer pink emphasizing the whites of her eyes and teeth. She shook about as she regained her solid, yet still translucent state.

"Sorry I'm late." The pink woman said finally. "Traffic. You know how it is."

Marcc was silent for a moment, uncertain. "Are you the doctor?" He asked finally.

"Yes, sir." She answered, walking towards the sink, leaving pink footprints of goo behind her. "I'm Dr. Sylvia Glasse. Everyone calls me Sly, so you can, too." She retrieved a thermometer and gestured to coax Marcc to return to his seat. Marcc looked at the sticky footprints she'd left behind.

"Oh, excuse me." Sly's legs knitted back together into a single column of purple goo and spread out along the floor, absorbing the footprints. She pulled herself back together and her body became opaque. "Sorry. I haven't had my coffee. Would you like some?"

"I don't drink coffee." Marcc said. "Never had it growing up, so..."

"Suit yourself." She found the coffee maker and poured the decantur into her mug. She held the mug by the handle and thrust it into her abdomen, pulling it out a second later, empty. She shivered, her body wobbling a bit, and she returned to her opaque form. "Now, let's take your temperature."

"Is this necessary?" Marcc leaned back in his seat as Sly climbed into his lap, menacing the silver end of the thermometer at him.

"Trust me. I'm a doctor." Sly said, bringing the thermometer closer.

"Ow! That was my eye."

She blinked. "I knew that." She dropped in his mouth.

"Is this really necessary?" He spoke, the thermometer dancing in the corner of his mouth like an ostentatious toothpick.

"Please don't talk." Sly said. Marcc kept quiet as she fussed around for a minute, looking at a chart. She removed the thermometer. "Ninety-nine degrees." Her brow knitted, concerned.

"That's perfectly normal." Marcc protested. "Are you sure you're a doctor? You don't seem to know much about anatomy. After all... you..."

"Don't have body parts?" Sly finished his sentence before he could. "Then how come you're staring at me? After all, it's all the same stuff, right?" Her hands went under her breasts and shook them up and down, wobbling more beautifully than any fleshy breast he'd ever seen. "Anyway, you should take off your clothes."

"Why?" Marcc looked suspicious.

Sly looked over her shoulder at him. "Because I don't wash out."

Marcc stood and undid his shirt, emptied his pockets and removed his shoes and trousers. He stood before her in his boxers. Sly looked at him expectantly. "I don't wash out of boxers, either." She insisted. He dropped his boxers and set them aside.

"Not bad." She commented. "Bigger than most full elves I see. Their problem is they don't have much sex, so over successive generations, their genitals shrink up from atrophy."

"What successive generations?" Marcc asked. "Full elves almost never have children anymore. There's only so many immortal elves their society can support, now that the wars are over."

"Do you want to feel good about your penis or not?" Sly put her hand on her hip.

Marcc didn't answer. He shrugged, and Sly pushed him back into the chair. She sat on top of him, her cold flesh making him shiver. She walked two fingers up his bare chest and rubbed his lower lip. "Give me a taste." She whispered.

Hesitantly, Marcc wrapped his lips around her fingertip and sucked a little of her off onto his tongue. She had the taste of jam made from an unknown fruit, so saccharine, it would probably give him a headache.

"It's really sweet." He answered.

"I eat a lot of candy." She confessed. "Now, let's warm up a bit." She kissed him on the lips, and they proceeded to make out, his hands sliding across her mostly solid form. Her flesh had the gentle tacky feel of a gumdrop on a humid day. His mouth opened and bit gently on her lower lip, which parted from her form as easily as biting through a marshmallow.

He started, spit out the tiny glob into his hand and looked at her. Sly's lip was already 'healed.' She wiped up the severed lip and it returned to being part of her. "You can't hurt me, silly." Her legs loosened into less distinct appendages, more like tentacles than legs. They wrapped around his bare abdomen with strong moist suction holding them together. "Now give it to me."

They kissed a little longer, her body growing gently stickier as they kissed. Marcc stood from the chair and brought her up against the wall. She splattered like an enormous water balloon, leaving him and the wall covered in thin purple gelatin. He screamed in shock, slipping on the goo and landing on his rear.

Almost as fast as she had shattered, Sly's body pulled down from the walls and his body and reformed into her humanoid shape. "Gotcha." She mocked.

Marcc growled. It was embarrassing enough to have to go to the doctor as an elf, but he didn't remember the last doctor visit involving any pranks. Sly pranced off and pulled out a condom from a drawer.

"What's that for?" Marcc asked. "I'm almost completely positive you can't get pregnant at all, certainly not with me."

"Trust me. This makes the whole thing neater." Sly answered. "Besides, then I can't go up your peehole."

Even though he was sure real doctors didn't use the term 'peehole,' Marcc didn't much like the sound of that. Holding the rolled condom between her fingers, she threw her hand at his erect member. His unit speared her palm, unrolling the condom with the inside of her arm. She retracted it, and the condom was on perfectly. It was clearly not the first time she'd done this.

"OK, no more games. Let's do this." She pushed him back into the chair and climbed aboard his lap, parting her lips gently and accepting him inside her. She wobbled a bit as he fit completely inside her.

"You're cold..." Marcc shivered as he felt the gelatinous woman bound merrily on him. He put his hands on her buttocks to help her with the riding, but his hands started to sink inside them. In fact, he couldn't find a place on her where she was staying entirely solid. She grew more translucent, and her hair facsimile was starting to drip and loosen.

"You want to change positions?" She huffed, her breasts jiggling looser than before.

"Does it make a difference?" Marcc asked.

"I mean, I could make a place for you to do me up the ass. In fact, we're doing that." She shifted forward a few inches. "There, now this counts as anal."

"I've never had such arbitrary sex before." Marcc admitted, still pumping himself into her as far as he could. Surely, nobody could really hurt her this way, no matter how endowed.

Sly moaned and panted, which was really weird, because he wasn't certain that her species actually respired at all. Her arms grew droopy and lost their features. She wrapped them around his shoulder and back, making two solid ropes that held him in place. Marcc's hands were permanently covered in purple slime now, as he tried to find a place to put them, they got stuck in her thighs, which drew them down and immobilized them.

The back of the chair fell down to a horizontal position and Marcc watched as the rapidly melting woman continued to ride him. It looked like she was constantly trying to restructure herself, but her goo kept slipping away as she lost her focus and felt the waves of pleasure wobble through her. Every thrust now made her body jiggle.

Marcc realized it now. The friction and arousal had made her warm. That's why she was melting. And she was certainly was now. He could endure the pounding only for so long before his head craned back and he came into the condom. Her slime holding the base of the condom still, he filled the condom until it inflated to the size of a human breast implant. (The multiracial society made this specification necessary, but few other species appreciate the breast as much as the human.)

Sly released her grip on his appendages and he went limp. She used a few interesting movements of her ichor to pull the condom free from him, twist the end and tie it shut. She didn't spill a drop. Except for her sweet drops of goo she had trickling from her warmed body. Those drops were everywhere.

Sly stood up before Marcc and collected herself from the floor. "Do you feel better?" She asked.

Marcc caught his breath. "I do."

"I'm glad you stopped by today." She cooed. "But I've got another client coming in soon, so unless you like to watch, you should probably move on out of here."

Marcc started to get dressed, not seeing a shower to clean the thin patina of stickiness from his skin, as if he'd melted a Popsicle over his entire body. As he put on his pants, he saw something floating around within Sly. Maybe it was her weakpoint, the mystical always-solid part that hunters would aim for to get experience point or whatever it was people who killed slimes were looking for. He hadn't noticed it before.

Pointing with his thin finger, he asked, "What is that?"

"Oh, that's the condom." She said. "I'm keeping it safe."

"What on earth for?" Marcc asked, then brought his hand to his forehead. "You know what? Don't answer that." Sly went to the righthand wall and started opening circular portals along the wall. "And what are those?"

"You don't have glory holes in the elder forest?" Sly asked. "Sometimes, I get double-booked, so we have to do two at once. I just wish I could see the dwarf standing next to the minotaur in that other room. And the funny thing is..." Sly sidled over and whispered. "The dwarves are usually bigger."

Dressed again, Marcc shook Sly's hand, not finding it gooey or tacky this time. "Thank you, doctor."

"No problem." Sly's body wobbled as he performed the handshake, holding her other hand above her stomach the way a bad actress holds the bottom of her fake pregnancy belly. "Whenever you need some relief, make an appointment and we'll do this again."

"I think I shall." Marcc nodded softly, and left.

He rode down the crowded oversized elevator to the ground floor and to the metro port before realizing... this wasn't the reason he came out to the medical center. If you'd told him to make an appointment to make love to a random jelly-girl, he probably wouldn't have done it.

And Marcc still couldn't hear out of his left ear.

Back in her office, one portal about two feet off the ground became occupied. Based on the bright orange public hair and the height of his chosen portal, Sly determined this was her next client, a dwarf fellow in everything but where it counts. She loosened her arm into a long tendril of goo and wrapping along the shaft like the stripe on a barber pole.

"Welcome, Mister..." Sly checked her clipboard. "The Slaughterer. Hope you're feeling better."

Through the wall, she heard the distinct sound of ceramic tiles struck by horseshoes under great weight. Another portal opened up, about four feet off the ground, and out came a new penis.

The hidden shame of the minotaur was presented to her. Most think that the minotaurs, as half-bull chimeras, have a horse's stalwart and enviably large genitals. But an apple is not a orange, and a bull is not a horse. That part of the average minotaur was very human, disappointingly so.

Now, a centaur, on the other hand... well, she'd need her other hand.

"And welcome to you to, Mister... Thompson." She wrapped her other arm around the minotaur erection, experiencing its heat and its nice musky taste. It wasn't all bad, of course. Her leg stretched behind her and retrieved two more condoms, the appropriate size for their species.

The first customer's sperm floating neatly inside her, protected within her 'belly,' with much more work to do...

Find a job you love and you'll never work a day in your life, as the human proverb went.

It's a good think nobody knew she wasn't really a doctor.

-

The day's end was indicated as her time crystal emanated some white-red energy that gave Sly the desire to leave the medical center in a slow and orderly fashion.

'Slow' would be easy. Floating inside her ichor were fifteen condoms of varying volumes, all tied off to prevent any leaks. The two closest in size, the two from a pair of virile werewolf brothers, were tucked into her breasts. Two more were in her ass, but the ogre's seed and the troll's seed were slightly different sizes. She padded the ogre's condom with a little more slime so her butt wasn't lopsided.

The rest were piled up against each other in her stomach. There was no disguising this adequately, so she let her stomach bulge with her payload. She squeezed into the elevator, pressed nicely into the warm chest of a handsome full elf. Why couldn't he visit her office sometime? It's not like she could give him a business card.

Someone crammed further into the elevator, and squished her deeper into him. From her flesh, there came an undignified pop and plop. The condom filled with goblin spunk had been pressed out of her slime and fallen between her legs.

The handsome elf gentleman noticed that. Sly put her foot over it and it was sucked into her leg, returning to the nest of balloons in her stomach. "Sorry." She smiled.

Sly wasn't sure if he was uncomfortable because she was filled to capacity with balloons filled with sperm, or if it was typical racism against her kind. Sly was used to people underestimating her just because most people in this city killed loads of her kind before they were even Level 2. As one of the smallest represented minorities in New Mureybet, her family would probably appreciate it if she didn't act so weird and give them a bad reputation.

Once it reached the ground floor, Sly walked out of the cramped space of the elevator, down to the train station, and into a cramped train car. None of this was as convenient as 'taking the tube,' an opportunity left only to her. But she couldn't do it while bearing her important cargo.

Another thing that doesn't happen when going through the plumbing was the sensation of a goblin pawing her butt with the back of his hand. He'd probably play it off like it was an accident, but if not, she was ready for it.

On the second 'accidental' pass of his hand across her rear, her viscosity and adhesion had grown, now more like tar than jelly. The back of his hand was now stuck to her butt, with small strands of goo advancing up his hand. She shifted the parcels out of her rear, giving the hand more mass to get tangled in. The goblin cussed in his language, the sounds of which anyone learns quickly in this city. He brought his foot up onto her thigh and pulled on his arm, the leg choosing not to absorb his legs on purpose. Sly waited for the right moment, where he jerked as hard as he could, to free the hand, sending him tumbling between the legs of the other passengers.

She let a giggle slip out of her tightly held lips. She heard some chattering from the goblin, and felt a hand fall on her shoulder, much too big to be a goblin.

The hand spun her around to face him. A troll, the big brothers to the goblins. And like all big brothers, trolls hated goblins until someone else was delivering the beat down. Trolls were the largest metahuman you could expect on public transit, the cars just large enough to accommodate their average eight-foot height. This troll was deeply stooped to fit in here, possibly almost ten feet tall, definitely the biggest troll she'd ever seen.

"Can I help you?" Sly asked, letting her shoulder dissolve to be relieved of his grasp.

"You can't peek on gobleens like that." The troll snarled, his tusks the primary reason for that typical troll accent. He wore gold caps over his lower tusks with gemstones embedded in them, a sash with a red thread added for every day of conquest, and a tattered loincloth that was meant to be some sort of kilt.

"He put his hand on my butt." Sly pointed. "Which, by the way, it's all the same stuff, so you can touch me wherever you want. Just announce you're touching me. You don't even have to say please, not that there's a Goblin word for that."

The goblin spoke with the high-pitched outrage that often came when they perceived they'd been wronged. The troll did not translate it. "You say you're sorry, or I'm going to splatter you all over thees car, little slime."

A few bystanders backed away. One gallant centaur trotted over and tried to part the pair of future scufflers, but Sly brushed him away politely. "I've got this, I swear." She said with a smile. He backed up, and Sly and the troll faced off.

With a gentle move of her lips, Sly spit a tiny wad of purple goo that struck the goblin right on the tip of his nose.

And the troll swung his fist down on top of Sly, slamming down like an enormous hammer, the beads and teeth woven into his bracers clattering about as they made contact.

And Sly was still standing.

To explain the biology of what most vulgarly called 'slimes' would be difficult. A summary of their abilities would be to change their shape by controlling their density, viscosity and other qualities of fluid. In an instant, Sly regimented all of her body into a solid sheet of matter. This troll had just slammed his fist into something slightly harder than the average boulder.

A wound appeared on the troll's fist, and black blood started to trickle between the broken knuckles. "You would have hurt yourself less if I'd just let you hit the floor of the train." She snarled stiffly, allowing herself to take her less rigid form. Pulling her matter into such a form caused most of her precious orbs of semen to drop at her feet. She gathered them up as rapidly as she could, several tendrils wrapping them about and pulling them back into her abdomen.

The troll scowled at her, and looked at his broken hand. "I underestimated you." He said.

"Did you think a 'little slime' that actually make it out of the low-level forest wouldn't be able to defend herself?" Sly said, adjusting the position of her packages.