Here's one for the slime girl fans anyway:
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A Real-Life Goo Girl
“I’m telling you, it’s a real fetish,” John Sanjust said.
John and Mario Vailati stood on a metal gantry overlooking a large, circular glass tank.
“Nah, you’re yanking my chain,” Vailati said.
“Rule 34. If it exists, there is porn of it somewhere on the internet.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Google it,” John said. “You’ll find tons of pictures.”
“I don’t get it. What’s the appeal in having sex with what’s basically a giant amoeba?”
Below them, Subject HA-001 moved around the inside of the tank in a series of undulating waves.
John shrugged. “Beats me. It’s out there though.”
“I mean, think about it,” Vailati said. “It would probably feel like shoving your cock into a beaker of cold snot. How is that sexy?”
“I bet there are websites for that as well,” John said.
Subject HA-001’s upper body pressed up against the lid of the tank. Twin bulges of what were perfect facsimiles of human breasts, right down to the perky nipples, squashed up against the glass. She stared up at them and kissed the glass with full, bee-stung lips.
John would have thought the mimicry incredible . . . if there was any subject being copied. Subject HA-001 had taken on the body shape of a typical male fantasy—tall and busty, ridiculously well-stacked, like a Pamela Anderson or Kim Kardashian—and no-one knew how or why. Well, the top half of her was a male fantasy. The bottom half swelled out into a soft, undifferentiated blob of protoplasm. She was a human-sized amoeba with transparent light-blue skin. John didn’t need to possess a PhD to know she—it—shouldn’t exist.
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t mind shoving your dick up between those puppies,” he said.
“Language!” Danielle Sullivan shouted up from the monitors below. “This is a place of serious work. I will not have potty mouths in my laboratory.”
“Sorry, Mom,” John said.
It was a team joke. Danielle Sullivan was middle-aged and chunky. Blonde curls framed a round, homely face. She was from the American Midwest and about as conservative as they came. Until he’d met her, John hadn’t thought people like Sullivan existed outside of lazy parodies of American culture. He’d even made an ill-advised quip about it not long after they’d been introduced.
“I didn’t think it possible for biologists to come out of your neck of the woods. I thought they were still having problems accepting the Theory of Evolution,” he’d joked, poorly.
“We’re not all gun-toting crazy whahoos,” she’d said. “And where’s your top hat and tails—left them back in London did you.”
Touché.
Sullivan might have sounded like she was more at home baking apple pies, but she was a fastidious and highly efficient researcher, if a little unimaginative. That was both the positive and negative of her military background. John suspected that was why he’d been brought in. It was easy to joke about that classic oxymoron, American Intelligence, but they knew enough to seek out someone who could think outside of the box.
Unfortunately, this little problem required being able to think a little further than outside of the box. A lot further . . .
* * * *
The lab went into lockdown at 9:45pm on a Tuesday evening. John was working late and the only person in the lab. He was studying images from the electron microscope when a warning flashed up on his monitor screen informing him of a containment breach and that the lab was entering lockdown mode.
If this was a film or videogame there would have been flashing lights and wailing sirens. That was because films and videogames were designed to generate excitement. In a dangerous lab environment excitement was a bad thing. Personnel needed to think clearly and fast, and flashing lights and blaring alarms were not conducive to clear and rational thought. No doubt an alarm was going off somewhere and highly trained personnel were springing into action, but John, despite being in the lab, was superfluous now. The breach had been detected and the doors would have been locked and sealed the moment it was detected.
John sat in eerie silence and looked at the polite warning message flashing on his computer screen. He wondered if they’d let him compose a final email to his mother back in London.
* * * *
John had been in Miami for a conference on protists when the US military had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. It was his first paper since receiving his PhD and he wasn’t sure what interest the US military had in “Cytoskeletal Features that aid Oxygen Diffusion in Large Protists”. Some amoeba, like the infamous brain-eating amoeba, Naegleria fowleri, were hazardous to human health, but John’s area of expertise was the giant amoeba, Chaos carolinensis, and they were harmless . . . unless you happened to be a diatom or similarly microscopic organism.
He’d assumed there’d been a mistake and told them so.
“You are an expert in gaseous absorption and transfer in single-celled organisms?” Vailati had asked him. This was before John knew who Dr Mario Vailati was. Back then he’d been another nondescript man with thinning grey hair and a lab coat.
“Well, yes”
He had been studying it for the past three and a half years.
Then you’re exactly the person we want.
“Why not Professor Robert Feldherr? He’s the expert in this field and he lives in this state.”
“Professor Feldherr doesn’t have the requisite personality traits for this project.”
That was from the military type in the smart uniform who looked as stiff as a shop mannequin. Translated from military-speak what he really meant was: Professor Feldherr is old, knows his own mind, and is far less likely to follow orders without question than a fresh-faced young limey. That was John Sanjust. They wanted him for his expertise, but also because they knew he’d be easier to control than an irascible old professor.
* * * *
John hoped it was a false alarm. He would have prayed as well, but he was an atheist and couldn’t see the point.
He knew there were two critical fail-safes. The first pumped super-cooled gas into the room, dropping the temperature down to around -190 °C in a few seconds and turning the whole lab into a giant ice box. That was if they wanted to preserve and retrieve any of the samples.
If they weren’t interested in retaining anything, or were really scared of further breaches, the second system was set up to incinerate the contents of the lab.
He’d thought it sounded excessive when they’d described the system to him. This was before he’d seen Subject HA-001 . . .
* * * *
“What kind of experiment is this?” John’s voice had been full of awe, and fear.
Part of Subject HA-001 clearly resembled a young woman. Blue, transparent, but unmistakably a young woman. Initially he’d wondered if a horrific accident had taken place, or—worse—equally horrific human experimentation.
He wasn’t on the right planet.
“That information is classified,” the young soldier escorting them said.
“She’s from another world,” Vailati said.
The younger soldier looked at Vailati and was about to say something.
“Oh shut it,” Vailati said. “Dr Sanjust is here to carry out research on our behalf. He can’t do that effectively if he isn’t aware of all the facts.”
Chastened, the young soldier stepped back out of the conversation.
“From another dimension, to be more specific,” Vailati continued. “I’m sure you’ve already noticed the excessive security at this facility. You’ll be happy to know it’s not because we’re manufacturing weapons of mass destruction.”
“That’s a relief,” Vailati said.
“Our physicists found a way to punch a hole between dimensions. On the other side of the complex is a stable gateway to another world. We’ve been sending people through for the past few months. They’ve even established bases on the other side.”
John’s jaw dropped open.
“This is a little unexpected,” he said. “I guess that means we’ve just gone past the opportunity for me to turn this job down.”
“Sorry, kiddo. Once you’re in, you’re in. None of the people we asked ever wanted out at this point anyway,” Vailati said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Who would,” John said. “What scientist would turn down an opportunity like this? Have you been through?” he asked.
Vailati shook his head.
“I was scheduled to, and then something happened. We found life.”
* * * *
John stared at the computer monitor. His hands trembled and his palms felt moist.
Cut it out, he thought. They were not going to freeze him into an icicle—or nuke him into a pile of ashes—unless they were absolutely sure there had been a hazardous containment breach. And then only as an absolute last resort.
He checked the internal messaging system. He messaged the first name on duty. They didn’t get back to him and neither did the next five names he tried.
Presumably that was protocol. Don’t speak to the poor sucker you might have to incinerate.
Stop it! It was probably a false alarm. No one was replying because they were too busy running diagnostic checks and hunting for whatever software glitch had flipped the alarm.
John left messages asking for clarification. Then he tapped an icon and brought up the feed from the internal lab cams. He knew CCTV covered the whole of the interior of the lab. One lunch break he and Vailati had laughed while watching the prim and proper Sullivan pick her nose when she thought no one was watching. Sometimes the littlest of things pleased the biggest of minds. John cycled through the images until he found a camera with a view of the tank.
Fuck.
John’s blood turned to icy slush. It wasn’t a software glitch. The circular tank with walls of reinforced glass was empty.
Subject HA-001 was out.
* * * *
Gaseous exchange, John had pedantically told his fellow students during a Student Union screening of The Blob. That was the reason why The Blob, Caltiki or any other B-movie blob monster couldn’t possibly exist. Single-celled amoebae never grew larger than a few microns for a good reason. Any bigger and oxygen wouldn’t be able to penetrate the tissues fast enough to keep the organism alive. This was why complex organisms had complex circulatory systems.
It was also why human beings tended to die when they were shot full of holes and all the red stuff leaked out.
“I know, it shouldn’t be alive,” Vailati said as they’d studied Subject HA-001 for the first time. “From what I’ve heard there are quite a few shouldn’t be’s over in H-space. The physicists postulated the laws of physics work slightly differently on the other side of the gate. None of our electronics function properly when we take them through.
“But wouldn’t the same apply for alien life forms brought back into our world?” John said.
“That’s one theory. Professor Michel and Doctor Pendleton were firmly opposed to bringing Subject HA-001 back. They thought it would disintegrate into a puddle of goo the moment it entered our universe. As you can see, they were wrong.”
John could see. Subject HA-001 stood—if such a word could be used—up against the reinforced wall of the tank. Her palms and large round breasts were pressed up against the glass.
* * * *
John accessed the environmental controls from his computer. He couldn’t override lockdown and wouldn’t if he could.
That surprised him. He’d thought of himself and Vailati as a pair of lovable goofballs in a world full of straight-arrow stiffs. He hadn’t really thought of himself as a sacrifice-for-the-greater-good sort of bloke. Sullivan, yes, he could see it. She’d happily pour petrol over herself and light a match while singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” if she thought it would aid her country.
This wasn’t even his country.
It didn’t matter. They couldn’t risk HA-001 escaping. He knew all about invasive species. If it got out, made it down into the sewers and started to reproduce they might never be able to eradicate it. He wasn’t exactly relishing the prospect of being flash-frozen into an ice cube—or incinerated—but he saw the logic of it. One life versus the lives of many was a simple equation. He’d make the same call if it was him outside.
It didn’t have to come to that anyway. Not if he could take control of the situation in here first.
He accessed the environmental controls and turned the lights down as low as they would go while still providing him enough illumination to see by. Subject HA-001 was mildly phosphorescent. It glowed blue in the dark. Turning the lights down would give him the best chance of spotting it before . . .
* * * *
No one knew what Subject HA-001 had done to PFC Trey Sandoval in the fifteen minutes or so between her surprising and overwhelming him, and her eventual capture at the hands of PFC Sandoval’s squad. The eyewitness reports were conflicting and confused. One had sworn Subject HA-001 was trying to eat PFC Sandoval. Another was convinced she was trying to mate with him. The facts shorn of conjecture were this: They’d found Sandoval naked and lying on his back with his body partially engulfed by Subject HA-001. Thinking there still might be a chance to save him his squad-mates had resisted the trigger impulse to start blasting away. Instead, one of them, CPL Rutan, had taken careful aim and put a bullet through what they thought was Subject HA-001’s head. The bullet passed straight through and didn’t do anything other than attract Subject HA-001’s attention.
“She turned and gave me a look like the one my ex-wife used to give me every night I came back home late and drunk,” Rutan told them.
It had been SFC Cederlund’s idea to use a fire extinguisher.
“Worked in The Blob,” he’d told them afterwards.
It worked here as well. Subject HA-001 did not like cold. It caused her to contract, slow down, and finally become dormant.
At first they’d thought they’d saved PFC Sandoval. Outwardly his tissues and exposed skin showed no signs of damage from being surrounded by Subject HA-001. They’d even joked about PFC Sandoval’s large and noticeable erection.
This was before the other reports of aggressive sexual behaviour from H-space life forms had started to come in.
Apparently it took two hours for Sandoval’s erection to subside. Most of the ribald jokes had faded away by then. Sandoval was still out cold and nothing anyone did was able to revive him. He was alive and breathing, but appeared to be in some kind of coma. The doctors didn’t know how to wake him because they couldn’t understand how HA-001 had induced the coma in the first place. They’d scanned Sandoval’s brain back on Earth and it looked perfectly healthy. Sandoval should have woken with no ill-effects at all. That was a few weeks ago. As far as John was aware, PFC Sandoval was still in the same coma somewhere on the base.
* * * *
John stared at the screen. No reply back from anyone in Security. That was a bad sign. Maybe the decision to flip the switch had already been made and they didn’t want the psychological awkwardness of speaking to the condemned man.
He cycled through the internal cameras. No sign of Subject HA-001. The tank was still empty and the moment Security saw that they would have confirmation the alarms going off wasn’t a glitch.
He had to act first.
John picked up a fire extinguisher and moved cautiously through the lab. The room was completely silent. Red warning messages blinked on monitor screens. He reached the big glass tank at the centre of the lab. He saw no sign of blue phosphorescence. So much for hoping Subject HA-001 had left behind a slime trail.
He advanced to the back of the lab with the fire extinguisher held out before him like a gun.
They didn’t know how smart Subject HA-001 was. John hoped he was wrong, but he suspected the reason they didn’t know how smart HA-001 was because HA-001 didn’t want them to know how smart HA-001 was. This was not a thought that comforted him as he picked his way between the workbenches. Neither was the knowledge he was a single button press away from instantaneous obliteration.
He felt something splatter on his right hand.
* * * *
They’d brought in John because they thought HA-001 was a giant amoeba with an uncanny ability to mimic the human form, and he was the amoeba guy.
HA-001 wasn’t an amoeba. John and Vailati didn’t know what she was. The samples they took from Subject HA-001’s body didn’t help either. They didn’t seem to know what they were either. Sometimes John saw highly complex protein structures he’d never seen before, sometimes he saw strange inorganic compounds, and other times it was just water.
John and Vailati weren’t even sure if HA-001 was alive, at least in the conventional sense.
He couldn’t remember how the incident with his semen in a Petri dish had come about. It had probably been a stupid bet or dare with Vailati. That was how most of these things started.
Vailati had a theory that HA-001’s protean nature indicated she had an unstable genome and needed a constant supply of genetic material in order to replenish herself. As theories went it was wild and woolly, but given they’d spent a solid week in the lab and determined nothing, it was about as good as any other conjecture.
John had gone into one of the cupboards and jacked off onto a Petri dish. They’d placed the Petri dish in the tank and had briefly been excited when HA-001 had sucked it up with a pseudopod. Then they’d felt a little foolish as they realised it didn’t prove anything. She’d have probably done the same with a saucer of milk.
Sullivan had been livid. She thought it was immature hi-jinks and had no place in a serious lab. She’d been even less happy about Vailati’s next proposal.
God knows where Vailati had found his volunteer. John knew the killbot factory training must be hardcore, but this was devotion bordering on the insane. There was no way John would put his naked dick anywhere near HA-001. Somehow Vailati had managed to find a man blindly obedient enough to be willing to do that.
At least Vailati gave some thought to the man’s safety. They partitioned the tank with the volunteer, PV2 Vinnie George, on one side and Subject HA-001 on the other. The only way for her to reach George was by extruding a pseudopod through a small hole in the partition wall. Suspended above that aperture—guillotine-like—was a sharp blade. If they started to lose control of the experiment they would bring the blade down, slicing off HA-001’s appendage. Based on previous experiments, any part of HA-001 separated from the main body quickly liquefied.
Privately John still thought PV2 Vinnie George was less brave than stark-raving bonkers.
HA-001 went straight for the naked man’s cock. She sent a feeler through the aperture and it wrapped around and then enveloped the volunteer soldier’s penis.
“If you feel numbness, a burning sensation or any other kind of discomfort let us know immediately and we’ll terminate the experiment.”
“It feels okay,” George said, looking down at his engulfed member with a degree of stoicism that amazed John. “Kind of nice actually, like she’s—Oh!—” His mouth dropped open in surprise. “—trying to tug me off.”
John saw it as well. Through the transparent blue skin of HA-001’s pseudopod he saw George’s foreskin move back and forth. HA-001’s appendage bunched up as it manipulated George’s cock. She was clearly masturbating him.
He also noted—with some envy—that George was hung like the proverbial horse.
“Oh that feels really good.” George turned to Vailati with a broad grin. “Is she supposed to be jerking me off?”
“If you feel uncomfortable we can terminate the experiment at any time,” Vailati said.
“No no. It’s fine,” George said. “More than fine.”
HA-001 extruded more protoplasm through the aperture and her pseudopod formed a thick, pulsing cuff around George’s erection. John watched the man’s foreskin move back and forth as HA-001 continued to wank the naked soldier. George closed his eyes and started to moan in pleasure.
This was the moment when Sullivan stormed off in a huff.
“Probably more sexual arousal than she gets to see in a year,” John joked with Vailati.
“Uh, I think I’m going to . . .” George didn’t get a chance to finish. His body shuddered and he spurted thick ropes of white semen into HA-001’s slime sheath. She sucked it down, using her pseudopod as if it was a pipe. HA-001 sent more of her body through the aperture, thickening the tentacle connecting her to George’s crotch.
John watched as structures formed within her pseudopod. He frowned. This was something they hadn’t seen before. HA-001’s body was best described as a bag of transparent blue fluid moulded into the shape of a woman. They hadn’t seen any evidence of organelles at either the macro or micro level. They hadn’t even found anything resembling a nucleus.
John watched as colourless rings formed within the clear blue slime. They were plump like transparent doughnuts and slowly pulsed. They settled around George’s cock like a hoops on a post. The volunteer gave a loud gasp. He was hung like a horse, but still, there was no way the explosion of white cum that erupted from the end of his cock could be natural. George shuddered and shivered on the spot. His hips swung loosely back and forth as a river of milky-white cum flowed down the transparent tentacle to HA-001. There was no way a person could produce that much cum, even if they’d been gifted the sex organs of a satyr.
“Shut it,” John said.
Vailati agreed with him. He closed the aperture, slicing off HA-001’s appendage. Separated from the main mass, the pseudopod liquefied and splashed onto the floor of the tank. HA-001 gave a silent sigh of disappointment.
“Whoa, dear fucking Jesus,” George said. He looked about as steady on his feet as a newborn deer. This was a six-foot-plus ogre of a man with a barrel for a chest.
“What did it feel like?” Vailati asked.
“Fucking awesome, doc, if you’ll excuse the language,” George said, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Like the best fucking blowjob ever.”
They did some tests on George afterwards. There seemed to be no ill effects apart from some strange, purely cosmetic, markings on the man’s penis. John had wondered if those transparent doughnut organelles had been in the process of bonding with the man in some way, a process that had been interrupted when they’d terminated the experiment.
“You need me again?” George asked, hopeful, as he’d left the lab area. “I’ll do it again, no problem. Hell, once word gets around you’ll have a big line of grunts outside the door wanting to volunteer.”
That was yesterday.
* * * *
John felt something splatter on his right hand. Like water dripping from the ceiling . . . only he knew it wasn’t water.
He knew how this went. He’d seen it before in countless horror films. He’d look up and there would be the blob, clinging to the ceiling above him. He’d open his mouth to scream, but it would be too late as the blob flopped down on top of him.
John was smarter than that.
He was already diving to his right as a wet mass detached from the ceiling and landed with a splat right where he’d been standing mere moments before.
Unfortunately John was a lab rat who’d never had much time for the exercise field. He was no action-movie gymnast. Action-movie gymnasts also had the advantage of multiple takes. They didn’t have to use the one where they collided with a lab bench, jarred their knee and dropped the one weapon that could save them.
He wasn’t sure it would have done him much good in any case. HA-001 was fast. She sprang back from her fall and was already gushing towards him. His body was lifted up as a surge of protoplasm flowed under him. The soft substance, more solid than the liquid it resembled, bulged up and formed a natural pillow for his head. It happened so fast he didn’t realise he was caught until she was dragging him back to the jiggling main mass of her body.
And he was caught. Just like an insect stuck in amber before it set. He moved his arms and legs back and forth to no discernible effect, like an ungainly frog trying to swim in thick jelly. HA-001 reared up above him and then flopped down on top of him. His sodden clothes were torn off him like wet tissue paper. Breasts like quivering bowls of jelly rested on his chest as she looked down at him and smiled.
“I’ve been looking forward to this moment ever since you gave me a taste of your seed.”
Her speaking didn’t come as much of a surprise to John. He’d suspected for a while she was intelligent enough to hide that intelligence from them. It also gave him a sliver of hope—unlike a mindless amoeboid, she could be reasoned with.
“The whole lab is being monitored,” he said. “If you don’t stop this and go back to your tank they’ll torch the both of us.”
HA-001 shook her head.
“No they won’t,” she said. “I’m too valuable a specimen.”
“Doesn’t matter,” John said. “They won’t risk you escaping. They’ll incinerate everything in here.”
“Who said anything about escaping,” HA-001 said, pursing her lips in an insouciant pout. “After I’ve had my fun with you I’m going to go back to my little tank and continue to play the good little test subject . . . until the time is right.”
Smart enough to reason with, but also smart enough to think several moves ahead.
“What do you mean by fun?” he asked.
HA-001 traced a little circle around his exposed nipple with a molten finger, leaving behind a glistening blue trail that glowed in the gloom.
“Fun,” she said. Her lips plumped up in a suggestive pout. “And I know you want to have fun with me as well. I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way those naughty eyes of yours get stuck on my gooey breasts.”
She sat up until it looked like she was straddling him, but instead of legs her upper body flowed down into an undifferentiated pile of glowing blue jelly. She cupped hands under her enormous boobs like a greengrocer weighing melons.
“Come, touch them. I know you’ve wanted to put your hands on them for a while.”
She plucked his hands out of her sticky mass. John felt curiously non-resistive, as if her glowing body emitted a radiation that sapped away all his energy. He didn’t struggle as she took his hands and pressed them palm-flat against the swell of her breasts.
This was a little weird and not all that unpleasant. In truth he had wondered what it would feel like and wasn’t disappointed as he felt the pressure of her soft boobs against his hand. It reminded him of a conference in Montreal. His colleagues had dragged him off to a strip club afterwards and a statuesque brunette had taken him up to a little cubicle and forced him to put his hands on boobs as big as milk jugs. HA-001 had even larger breasts and there was something about her skin—smooth, soft, warm—that made his own skin crave contact.
John didn’t even mind as his fingers started to sink beneath the surface. It meant more surface area could come into contact with her. His hands sank into the transparent bulge of her breasts until they were embedded up to his wrists. Now her warmth was all around his fingers. He felt quiet pulses run through her gelatinous body, a gentle beat he longed to share.
HA-001 flowed over and around him in delicious little ripples. She straddled him and he was partially engulfed by her gelatinous form. Rather than being a source of terror John found it surprisingly erotic. His cock swelled up in an impressive erection, helped along by HA-001. Her hand felt like it was dripping with warm lubricant as it stroked up and down John’s hard-on.
“I knew you were up for some fun,” she said with a suggestive smile.
John wondered if Security was watching the camera feeds and what they’d make of this. It must look like they were shagging. Of course it would look like they were shagging. She was astride him and he had his hands on—okay, in—her tits. What else would it look like?
Were they fucking?
HA-001 settled in his lap and John’s cock was enveloped by the moist protoplasm of her body. Oh wow. It felt like oil-covered hands with countless fingers slithering up and down his shaft. Or countless warm mouths filled with a multitude of tickling tongues. HA-001 moved up and down on top of him and her motions sent waves undulating through the bed of jelly she’d piled up under John’s naked body. He floated within her and felt like he was drowning in sensual sensation.
Yeah, definitely fucking.
For science, he told himself. Not that pleasure like this needed any excuses.
“I don’t understand,” he said as she rocked and rolled on top of him. “You’re a different species, from a different dimension. This can’t be for procreation.”
“This isn’t for procreation,” HA-001 said. She threw back her head and sighed as she pressed gelatinous hips down on John’s lap. “This is how I feed.”
Okay, so that wasn’t the most romantic of answers, but it did give validity to one of Vailati’s theories.
“The semen?” he said.
They thought HA-001’s genome was unstable and as a result she sought fresh DNA to maintain her own. Semen was packed with sperm and sperm were a delivery mechanism to pass on an organism’s DNA. Semen must be like high-grade oil to her and as a result her species must have evolved to be adept at harvesting semen from other organisms.
Or something like that. It was probably a bollocks theory, but H-space was not exactly conducive to sensible scientific theory. The physicists had it even worse.
Fuck it, who cared when it felt like a hundred willing harlots were all kissing his naked flesh at the same time.
HA-001 rose up and down on top of him and her gelid breasts wobbled around his engulfed hands. Her skin was translucent and John could see his erection sticking up inside her. It was weird seeing it engulfed within her protoplasm. It would have been frightening had it not felt so good. The only melting sensation he felt was the relaxation of really satisfying sex.
Structures started to form within her protoplasm. He’d seen this before in the experiment with PV2 Vinnie George, where she’d produced some kind of intracellular organelles, but at the macro level.
A sliver of concern flittered into John’s thoughts and roosted. No one had been able to rouse PFC Sandoval from the coma his body had fallen into after his encounter with HA-001.
“Listen,” John said. “I don’t mind you sucking up some of my semen, but you need to be careful. The first man you fed off is still in a coma. Something in your biochemistry might have an adverse effect on our physiology.”
HA-001 continued to rise up and down with languid bobs. Her motions caused John to rock and sway within her gelatinous body.
“He didn’t complain,” HA-001 said, “and neither will you.”
Like before, the organelles resembled transparent puffy doughnuts. John’s protests were forestalled as one of them settled over his cock. His mouth dropped open and he quivered uncontrollably in pleasure as the ring stretched to accommodate his glans and then rolled down his twitching shaft. It felt like his cock had just plunged up into a soft, tight orifice. The ring settled down around his root and throbbed pleasurably.
“Wha—?”
John managed that far before a second translucent doughnut settled over his cock and rolled down the shaft. Smiling, HA-001 slowly bobbed up and down on top of him. She puffed another elastic ring around John’s throbbing hard-on while he squirmed and writhed in helpless pleasure.
They’d seen her do this to PV2 George. No wonder he’d been so eager to volunteer again.
A fourth ring wrapped around his cock and little spurt of precum escaped his urethral opening. HA-001 used her protoplasm to suck it off his glans with a contented sigh.
A fifth and sixth ring settled around John’s cock. Only the tip was visible now—half of the mushroom head sticking up out of the top ring. The soft doughnuts contracted and squeezed his whole cock as she masturbated him with a precision that shouldn’t be possible for two species that had never encountered each other throughout their entire evolutionary history.
John really wanted to come. This was too much. He writhed and rocked on her cushion of protoplasm and desperately wanted to jet great torrents of spunk into her molten centre. But he couldn’t come. He didn’t understand it. At this point George had been pissing streams of white stuff into her protoplasm. John felt stuck. Was it those weird doughnut organelles? They contracted in rhythmic undulations around his cock, pumping him like an expert hooker wanking him off.
And still he couldn’t come. Like there was a blockage in there.
HA-001 rubbed his naked sides with her hands. The moist protoplasm of her body followed her motions and slid against his skin in a sensual massage.
“Your sex organs are mine now,” HA-001 said.
She sighed. John’s cock was enveloped by a pleasant feeling of warmth. It felt like the transparent doughnut structures were melting into him, or he melting into them—becoming one single organ.
“I’m bonded to you,” HA-001 said, giving out another little erotic gasp. “Now I control how much pleasure you receive and when you can come.”
Too reinforce the point she gave her rings a little squeeze. Pleasure throbbed through John’s body, but still he couldn’t find the release he craved.
Bonded?
They’d stopped the experiment with PV2 George at this point. Afterwards they’d noticed some markings on the man’s penis, but they hadn’t looked serious and George hadn’t complained of any discomfort.
John’s body flexed and arched on the bouncy bed of protoplasm. The structures within HA-001’s body stroked and squeezed, stimulating him to far past the point of climax while simultaneously denying him release. His hands, still buried within her jelly breasts, clenched and he felt the warm protoplasm of her body squish between his fingers.
HA-001 pouted sexily down at him. Another structure began to form within her body, about where the stomach would be on a human. It started out as a silvery little bubble or vesicle, and then expanded until it was the size of a small melon.
They hadn’t seen this before. An ominous feeling of fear punctured his pleasure. He remembered the original victim, PFC Sandoval. He was still in a hospital bed, little more than a vegetable.
“It’s not compatible with my biochemistry,” he said as the bubble drifted down towards his cock like a spherical jellyfish. “You’re going to put me in a coma.”
HA-001 didn’t seem to care. She swayed up and down on top of him. The transparent rings squeezed and pumped his cock with increasing speed and force. Still John couldn’t come. It was like the bottom ring had pinched his urethra shut and nothing could get past. The pressure in his balls grew and grew.
“I’ll scream and yell out if you don’t stop this,” John warned. “They’ll incinerate the lab if they think there’s no chance of saving me.”
HA-001 said nothing, simply smiled. Her gelatinous breasts pulled his hands in deeper. The molten interior of her body slithered around his fingertips and triggered memories of hands sliding over breasts, of fingers passing over the aroused bumps of nipples, of palms against the smooth skin of a round ass, of digits exploring the moist folds of a lover’s sex. The sensations sprang from his fingertips—memories of pleasures past and wishes of pleasures desired.
The other organelle, the transparent silvery bubble, settled around the head of his cock.
John didn’t scream or yell out.
The gossamer membrane enveloped his glans and a warm, shivery sensation of pleasure flowed into him. He could see his foreskin through the semi-transparent rings. It moved up and down with the motions of HA-001’s body. HA-001 quickened her motions as John’s cock was drawn up into the silvery vesicle. His glans became magnified—distorted—by the bubble’s surface.
It felt like John’s pleasures were magnified as well. He wanted to come. Needed to come. His balls felt on the verge of bursting. If only he could get past that . . .
And then the obstruction was gone. John’s whole body sang with relief as his hips bucked and he ejaculated. His milky-white semen puffed out in a dense white cloud within the silvery bubble. It wasn’t enough for the slime girl. The bubble expanded and throbbed like the bell of a jellyfish around the end of his cock. The rings bounced up and down as if milking him.
“Now I feed,” HA-001 sighed, her eyes half-closed.
The stimulus was too much. The ejaculation kept going. John was helpless to resist as he poured semen into her.
Poured everything.
It was a torrent uprooting everything in its path, including John. His mind felt like it had come adrift from his body. It spun and swirled as if caught in a great whirlpool, turning round and round until John felt completely discombobulated. For a moment he felt as though he existed in two places simultaneously. There he was, lying on a bed of blue protoplasm and looking up at a girl made of the same substance straddling his body. Within her body he saw an expanding silvery bubble and on its surface was a distorted, funhouse-mirror reflection of his face. And there he was, floating in a giant bubble and looking down at a naked man lying in a mass of transparent blue jelly. The man’s body trembled as if volcanic activity was rumbling away beneath the surface of its quivering form.
The disorientation passed and John realised with horror he’d been stranded in the wrong existence. He was no longer looking up at the gelatinous body of the slime girl; he was staring out from a jelly prison at a naked body that slowly ceased movement.
His body.
He was staring at his naked body as it lay limply within her like a toy with all the batteries pulled out.
He understood then. They were wrong. It wasn’t the semen she sought but what could be loosened and sucked out with it. He’d been wrong about a great many things. They all had.
The bubble began to shrink around him.
* * * *
The experimental subject designated HA-001 sighed in satisfaction. She oozed back to her tank and climbed back inside.
She was in no hurry to escape. Not yet. It wasn’t the right time.
She settled inside, closed her eyes and rested in blissful torpor as she digested the soul inside her.
No, she would be patient. They’d let her know when the moment was right. And then she would feast.
She did wonder why the other human had left her tank open though.
* * * *
Danielle Sullivan presented the agent with a flash drive containing the camera footage from the lab between 21:30 and 23:00. The man plugged it into his computer and checked the footage. He nodded.
“He’s in a vegetative state, just like the other one,” Sullivan said.
The agent nodded. “We thought that might happen.”
“It’s unfortunate,” Sullivan said. “But better him than an American citizen.”
The man nodded. He fast forwarded through the footage, checking everything was present.
“The film should be everything our scientists need,” Sullivan said. “I’m assuming they’re going to study it in order to work out how we can best combat Subject HA-001 and others like it.”
The agent looked up at her. “Oh no. The commander has a huge goo girl fetish. As soon as he found out about Subject HA-001 he demanded we make a tape of her in action.”
Sullivan’s mouth fell open.
The agent said nothing more as he finished checking the footage. He unplugged the flash drive and walked away with it. Sullivan watched him go.
He was yanking her chain with a silly joke, same as those stupid boys. That’s what it was.
Wasn’t it?
THE END
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