The Slime Who Loved Me

My name is Mark. I’m a high school senior, just under six feet tall, with dark blonde hair that develops light blonde highlights in the summer. I have an athletic build, and dark blue eyes. I’ve always been a little underwhelming, second string on the football team and basketball team, always come in second in track, and second trumpet in the school band. I maintain average grades in all my classes, putting me somewhere in the middle of my class in overall all scholarship. It’s frustrating, I work hard, try hard, play hard, and never quite come out on top.

My folks are average people, in their forties, drive eleven-year-old vehicles, live in a thirty-year-old house with fourteen years left on the mortgage. My sister, Candice, Candy to her friends, is two years younger than I am and as popular as I am plain. She had no problems finding dates for Friday or Saturday nights, while I had a habit of asking girls who had just said yes to some other guy. We would have had a younger brother, but he was stillborn and his mother couldn’t have any more babies after that. Totally unremarkable, that’s me.

Friday morning, after a hard rain, mom asked me to check the ‘wet spot’ in the basement, a place in the foundation wall that sometimes showed a little seepage after wet weather. In the basement, unfinished, with a dirt floor, I made my way to the back corner. I caught a glint of reflection from the wall in the beam from my flashlight. Dad was going to be pissed, wet walls encouraged the growth of mold, and he hated spraying the chemicals used to keep it in check. Closer, the shiny area took on a pale pinkish cast, not normal for wet walls. I reached out to touch it, finding it dry to the touch, feeling like plastic, with just a little give when I put pressure on it. Definitely not any mold I knew about. I scratched at it with a fingernail, scraping away a tiny bit of sticky residue. I wiped my finger on my pants, figuring that dad had sprayed some sort of sealant there. Back upstairs, I told mom the walls weren’t wet and headed off to school.

The first period was Biology. We were preparing slides and viewing them, taking pictures through the microscope when we found something interesting. I noticed some dirt under my finger nail, possibly from scratching on the wall. On a whim, I scraped it out with a probe, putting it on an unused slide. I used a drop of the nutrient solution we used for live cultures on it and stirred it around a bit. Under the microscope, there was something moving slightly, but not anything I recognized. I found a petri dish with a layer of growth medium and transferred the tiny blob to it, intending to get it to grow enough to identify. I covered the petri dish, putting it in my backpack to take home.

That was the high point of my school day. I asked three different girls for a date, got shot down three times. It promised to be a boring evening as well, nothing to do as Candy did have a date. I was digging books out of my backpack when I found the petri dish. There had been some obvious growth so, curious, I dug out my little USB microscope, set it up, and took a look at my culture.

At the lowest magnification, it was a small pale pink blob. At the highest, I saw tiny pink spheres, jiggling around, connected to each other by fine hair-like filaments. The little spheres split into two, dividing like amoebas, occasionally one died, dispersing through the liquid. Overall, the blob was growing. I tried adding a little distilled water to the dish trying to get the little things to spread out a little. The little blob absorbed the water almost as fast as I poured, visibly swelling. A glance at the display from the microscope showed they were multiplying at an incredible rate. I got a wide mouth canning jar from the kitchen, gently put the petri dish inside, and loosely screwed the lid down. I spent the next several hours in a fruitless search on the internet for some idea of what I had found.

Saturday morning, I had over two hundred milliliters, about one cup, of pale pink transparent goo. It had totally consumed the nutrient gel from the petri dish. It would still absorb water, but without any food, the growth slowed down. I dropped in a few crumbs from my breakfast toast into it. They were quickly absorbed. I tried a piece of a stale cookie, again, absorbed, and triggering a spurt of growth. I went to the kitchen, bring back a slice of mom’s meatloaf. The meatloaf took a little longer to dissolve and be absorbed into the goo. I poked a pencil into it, and a few minutes later had a bare pencil lead surrounded by a thin tube of paint. It seemed that it would eat anything organic, except living tissue. A small sample having landed on my arm, left me with a hairless patch of skin. The little sample landed on my desk, forming into a flattened globe.

By now, I had almost a quart of the goo. I pulled a plastic tub out of my closet, pouring the goo into it. Instead of flowing to the edges, it took the shape of a poorly inflated ball, a round shape, about eight inches across and about six inches tall. I picked up the little blob from my desk and dropped it in the tub, the two blobs quickly joined and became one. I gingerly touched the blob. It was dry and warm to the touch, a bit squishy, reminding me of Becky Simpson’s boobs, no great conquest, as she was probably the easiest girl in school.

The blob seemed to hump up under my hand. I jerked my hand away to see a mound on top of the blob, very similar in shape to Becky’s boob, slowly sinking down to the normally smooth surface. What the actual fuck, I thought, staring at the smooth pink surface. I remembered last week when Candy had accidentally lost her towel on the way out of the bathroom, I got a good eyeful of her perky C-cups as she scrambled to cover herself. I remembered, clearly, the pale skin tone and pink nipples, as she blushed furiously. The blob humped up a perfect replica of Candy’s boobs, even the colors seemed to shift to match my memory.

I placed my palms over those bumps, they felt like boobs, they squeezed like boobs, they felt wonderful. I jerked my hands back. I was fantasizing groping my sister, not something I normally did. I mean, I love my sister in a big brother, protect her, kind of way. I had never actually thought of her as a woman, most of my mental images of her being in the eight to ten-year-old range when she’d been quite the tomboy. But I reminded myself, this isn’t Candy, just some bizarre blob that made boobs that looked like hers.

I needed to get back to safe ground, thinking of Becky’s boobs again. The blob obligingly humped up into Becky’s soft, slightly flaccid boobs. I grabbed them, squeezing and rubbing them like the real thing. They even showed Becky’s slightly darker skin tone and her large dark nipples. This was making me hard as I remembered that afternoon up at the lake. She wouldn’t let me go all the way but did let me finger her cunt, wet and warm to my fingers.

The blob shifted under my hands into a fair approximation of a woman’s crotch. I slid my hand down to the cleft between the suggestion of legs, feeling the folds of Becky’s cunt lips and the opening of her cunt, feeling exactly as remembered, wet and warm. The replica boobs had faded away as material flowed to form the replica cunt. This was getting interesting.

The blob reminded me of a slime creature from one of my favorite role-playing games, able to form almost any shape. It wasn’t just a blob anymore. It didn’t seem to care what I fed it, so I went out and got a large bag of cheap dog food. Between that a couple of gallons of water, my slime nearly filled the tub. I thought of a girl I’d seen in a porn video, trying to remember all the details.

The slime rose up into a column, taking on the shape of that girl, fit and tan, large boobs, clean shaven cunt, and a spill of long blonde hair. Other than only being four feet tall, the slime formed a perfect replica. Just looking got my cock hard, and wondering just how much like a real girl the slime was. She stood in a classic pose with a slightly challenging expression. I stepped up and grabbed her boobs, as she turned to face me, legs slightly spread, and her face turned up to mine. I couldn’t resist, I leaned down and kissed her. She looked real and felt real. I fumbled my hard cock out of my pants, she dropped to her knees and sucked my cock into her mouth. I thrust forward, burying my cock in that warm, wet mouth as I held her head to me. I stroked my cock in and out of her mouth as I was milked by muscles in a way that I’d never even imagined, incredibly better than beating off. My cum sprayed into her as I continued pumping my crotch against her face.

As my flaccid cock slipped out of her mouth I stumbled back and fell across my bed, spent from the biggest cum of my life. I barely noticed as she stepped back into the tub, subsiding into the usual pale pink slime. I fell asleep, laying half naked on the bed, to exhausted to bother pulling up my pants.

I woke up about two hours later, from an incredibly erotic dream about my sister, Candy. I knew I shouldn’t be having these thoughts, but she was so sexy with her skin tight short shorts and crop tops that hugged every curve. I had to do something before I ended up forcing her into sex. I looked at my slime, quivering in it’s tub. Maybe another session wold settle me a bit. The slime began to rise out of the tub, forming a perfect copy of Candy. I groaned in surrender as, fully formed, she walked over to me, climbed onto the bed and straddled my hips. She lifted her cunt over my stiff cock and dropped onto me, taking my cock to the root. She clamped down hard on my cock, squeezing me like nothing I’d ever felt before and slowly rose up, pulling on my cock as it slid most of the way out, then loosening slightly, dropped back down. I reached for those perfect boobs, massaging and squeezing them, pinching her nipples.

Under all this stimulation, I came quickly spraying another load of cum deep into her body. As I caught my breath, she lay on top of me, while she held my cock in her, massaging and squeezing it. I grabbed her ass cheeks, squeezing them and letting a finger slide between her perfect globes. I had no idea what an asshole felt like, but I should have felt something other than smooth unbroken flesh as my finger explored. Almost as soon as I had the thought, I felt a small pucker form under my finger. My God,I remembered thinking as I drifted to sleep again, she can read my mind.

I woke as Candy pounded on my door, yelling at me to come to dinner. I got up, pulled up my pants, and went to eat. The slime was back in her tub. I ate quickly, and returned to my room, trying to wrap my brain around this ‘relationship’ I’d stumbled into.

For some reason, my room looked a lot cleaner than usual, no dust, no scraps of paper. As I was thinking of this, a thin tendril of the pink slime rose out of the tub and snaked across the floor. It went under my desk and came out with a piece of paper, holding it up so I could see it, before it dissolved. I wondered it the slime would keep growing, I certainly didn’t need hundreds of pounds of slime trying to have sex with me. The tendril moved toward me, the last foot or so splitting into several finer tendrils that gently, but firmly took my hand, urging it into a flat palm up position. A pale pink marble dropped into my palm. The marble was hard and glassy, lacking the luster I normally saw in the slime. Under the microscope, I could make out dead or damaged slime cells and some dark grains like fine sand. I looked at the slime.

“I sure wish you could talk.” I muttered, “This would be a lot easier to figure out.”

A generic looking head rose out of the tub.

“This one can speak,” it said in a soft clear voice.

“What are you?” I asked.

“This one is an amorphous, poly-form organism,” it said.

“Why do you take the forms you do?”

“This one responds to your thoughts.”

I took a while, but in the end, we decided on a name, Patty, and she agreed that her existence must be kept secret. She was close to her optimum size, and having become aware, would no longer feed indiscriminately. She could take any form I wished within the limits of her size. She could not feel pain but did react to my feelings of pleasure. She had the basic female form down pat, only adjusting the outward appearance to match my thoughts. She could be any girl at any time. This was so cool.

These days, more often than not, I wake up to some gorgeous movie star sucking my cock or riding me.

Life is good.