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Every inch of skin from her toes to her neck is covered now, and Morgan senses the final stage beginning. The Slime slowly inches its way under her chin and up the back of her head, flowing through her hair like thick shampoo. She wonders if it’s about to cover her face – she doubts she’ll be able to breathe if it does. But she trusts her Slime. If it needs her to keep breathing, it’ll find a way. For now she focuses on the soothing sensation it provides as it oozes over her scalp.
As it flows around the bases of her pointed ears, it slightly disturbs the tendrils leading into her head. Her attention is drawn again to how good they feel inside her ear canals; how perfectly they fill her. Those tendrils began this whole experience, filling her head with the substance which brought such an incredible transformation to her mind – the substance which is keeping her calm and content even when she might be seconds away from suffocation. It’s nice to be reminded of them, and everything they’ve done for her.
The Slime oozes slowly down Morgan’s forehead. She closes her eyes, and a moment later feels its wet pressure on her eyelids, sealing them shut. The same wetness creeps up her chin, over her lips. She continues breathing steadily until the last moment, emptying her lungs one final time before the Slime spreads over her nostrils. At last her whole face is covered, every last inch of her engulfed in her captor’s embrace.
There’s a moment of total stillness in the dark and quiet of Morgan’s slime cocoon. Then she feels her body try to draw breath. There’s a pressure in her nostrils as her lungs try to pull in air, and find the path blocked by the thick fluid. A tightness in her throat. She observes the sensations idly – they feel strange, but not painful. It doesn’t matter to her whether or not she breathes again. Only the Slime’s will matters.
A tight, pulsing sensation begins in Morgan’s head as the seconds pass. She feels sharp spasms in her diaphragm, slowly getting stronger. Her body is obviously struggling to breathe, fighting hard against the heavy slime blocking its airways, perhaps trying to wake her paralyzed limbs – not that they’d have any hope of freeing her now. But strangely, Morgan still feels just as happy and relaxed as ever. In fact there’s something almost amusing about the futility of the struggle; so many muscles and nerves flailing in distress, with no awareness that they’re no longer needed. Suffocating while your mind is incapable of panic sure feels weird.
As the strange sensations spread and grow in intensity, Morgan feels a sudden rush of affection toward her Slime. Nerves are firing all through her body, sending signals of distress to her brain with increasing desperation. But the slimy filaments woven through her neurons are protecting her, silently quenching each flash of pain before it can trouble the host. Thanks to the Slime, she can wait in comfort while the process of asphyxiation runs its course. It’s such a generous owner, to make it all so easy for her.
More than just easy; it feels gleeful. Dizziness builds, but so does euphoria. Knowing she won’t escape fills Morgan with joy and relief. She’s going to be one with the Slime. Nothing can stop it now. She feels more weight build up around her body, squeezing her from every side as the Slime pulls her deeper inside it. Warmth and darkness surround her. Lights dance on the insides of her eyelids.
In her foggy, dizzy mind, there are still some vague thoughts of the world outside this moment. The life she lived, friends and family she will leave behind. The memories are distant, but full of warmth and happiness. Of course she can’t know, but she feels sure everyone would be proud to know this was her fate. They won’t regret such an end any more than she does. Perhaps they can join her. She hopes so. Everyone should get the chance to experience what she’s feeling now.
Her head is throbbing, her lungs burning with a fire she’ll never have to feel. Dark clouds drift across her consciousness, her body feeling more distant with every passing moment. Deep down she knows this is the end, but it feels like a new beginning. She’s never known such a strong sense of purpose, never been so certain that her life is headed in the right direction. Pleasure and anticipation flood her mind as consciousness drifts away.
~~~
From across the apartment, Olive hears Morgan call her name in a shrill voice. She calls back, but doesn’t hear a reply. She sighs and returns to her essay, wanting to finish the sentence before it escapes her head.
At the end of the paragraph, she stops writing and stands up. It sounded like Morgan’s voice came from the bathroom. It also sounded like she was scared. Olive decides she should probably go check on her… but she’s going to be pissed if Morgan just wants her to catch a spider or something.
Olive reaches the bathroom door and knocks, calling out to Morgan. A few moments later she knocks again. There’s still no answer. For a minute she lingers in the hallway, torn between worrying about her friend’s safety and her privacy. Morgan sounded panicked. But what could possibly have happened in the bathroom that would be so bad? Does Olive even want to know?
Eventually she makes up her mind. Morgan might have fainted or something; Olive can’t abandon her just because she’s feeling prudish. She steels herself and grabs the bathroom door handle.
The slime quietly pulls away from the door, allowing it to open smoothly. A channel forms, the green pool splitting in two to create a dry path between the doorway and the shower. Olive enters the room, her eyes glancing down just a split second too late to see the slime moving. She steps forward, trying to understand what she’s looking at, oblivious to the danger surrounding her. She sees the thick layer of slime on the floor. She sees the mound it’s formed in the shower. She sees Morgan, stuck inside, naked and completely still.
Behind her, the door closes silently.
She steps forward again, calling Morgan’s name, alarmed. She’s so focused on her friend that she doesn’t notice the slime pouring back into the channel until it’s too late. She’s almost reached Morgan when she feels it flowing gently over her feet, and suddenly finds herself unable to take another step.
She screams, and almost loses her balance. Looking down, she sees her feet encased in slime up to the ankles. And though she tries with all her strength to lift them, they don’t budge. She looks back at Morgan, shouting her name. Her face is expressionless, eyes shut. She looks like she could be sleeping. But no air can possibly reach her in there. Olive has to save her, if it’s not already too late.
Morgan’s legs are within reach. Olive falls to her knees, feeling them sink into the slime as well. If she can dig Morgan out, maybe there’s a chance. How long has she been inside? Olive curses herself for waiting so long to answer the call. Morgan called for her! She was scared, and she needed Olive, and Olive waited precious minutes to come and help. Tears appear in her eyes.
Without thinking, she sinks her hands into the thick gooey membrane surrounding her friend, trying to pry it away. Her hands push inward until they’re covered to the wrists, and then go no further. When she tries to pull them back, the slime clings like glue.
Panic floods her as she realizes she’s now completely stuck. Any chance of escaping or helping Morgan vanished when she plunged her hands into the slime. She wriggles and screams as tears roll down her cheeks, fear and rage and sadness all fighting within her. The horror only grows as tendrils of slime twist eagerly up her arms and legs, claiming more of her flesh. Why didn’t she think this through?
She tugs uselessly with her trapped hands, and sobs Morgan’s name one more time before the slime burrows into her ears.
She regains consciousness lying on her side. Her face is still wet with tears, but her breathing is steady, and she feels strangely calm. The slime’s tendrils are still pulsing grotesquely in her ears, and she can still see her friend’s immobile form trapped within its translucent mass. But there’s no pain or fear at all. Her tears and screams already feel like a distant memory, or a dream from which she’s now woken. The slime squirms deeper into her head, threading its sticky strands through her brain while she stares blankly at Morgan’s body.
Her friend is trapped, unable to breathe. None of her limbs will move at all. A carnivorous slime is invading her brain. Olive considers each of these facts, and finds that none of them are worrying, or even particularly remarkable to her. No matter what she thinks about, she can’t muster any kind of strong emotion at all. She just lies there, placidly waiting for the slime to finish occupying her mind the same way she would wait in a queue at the store. It’s the weirdest thing she’s ever felt.
And then the pleasure begins. First a tiny flicker of anticipation. Then excitement. Then pure overwhelming euphoria. Soon Olive is giggling and squealing with delight, relishing each throb of the tendrils in her ears. In an instant she abandons all thoughts of Morgan’s safety, not to mention her own. Suddenly all that matters is enjoying this unexpected flood of ecstasy as fully as possible.
The first peak gradually fades, but it’s not long before another arrives. Olive drifts happily through wave after wave, amazed at how pleasant everything feels even at the lowest points. Her muscles have never been so wonderfully relaxed before, and she’s never layed anywhere as comfortable as the slime bed. Gazing at Morgan, she feels less concerned now about her lack of air, and more jealous about the direct contact the Slime has with every inch of her skin. She wishes she’d known what was coming, so she could undress before offering herself to the Slime.
But it takes care of that, of course. Its limbs slither under her top and her skirt, tugging outward, ripping them open at the seams. A narrow tendril slides into her panties, the warmth and slickness of its touch making her moan. She feels it coil against her flesh, forming a tight grip on the fabric, and then pull. With a sharp tearing sound, the panties peel away. Her body is left nude, and the Slime wastes no time coating her exposed skin. She mumbles giddy thank-yous as it completely covers her legs, her torso, her scalp.
She knows exactly what’s coming. She will be swallowed up, claimed and consumed just like Morgan. Even though she expects it to be painful, she can’t help but be excited at the thought of sharing the same fate as her friend. It feels like the perfect destiny for their relationship, to be united inside the Slime forever – like all the tension and desire between the two of them, that they never acknowledged, was leading up to this. Olive doesn’t regret it at all. She continues moaning with pleasure until the Slime blocks her mouth and nose. Then she simply waits in silence, her mind teeming with anticipation.
Her body tries and fails to keep breathing. Her throat tightens and her diaphragm begins to spasm. As the sensations build, she gradually realizes no pain is coming. Like Morgan, the Slime is protecting her mind, guarding it from the treacherous body that wants her to fight for its survival. The soothing wetness on her skin and the pleasure inside her brain leave no room for any other feeling. The convulsions in her abdomen are nothing more than a curiosity, easily ignored.
As her body suffocates, memories drift through her mind. She remembers the sight of Morgan trapped in the Slime, and her own panicked reaction. It already seems like a lifetime ago. It’s weird to think she ever felt such fear or disgust toward her Slime, weird that there was a time before she understood the importance of nourishing it. She remembers how it oozed between her fingers as she sunk her hands into it. At the time she was horrified, but now it’s a happy memory – the moment her calling was decided beyond any doubt.
Any sadness about Morgan’s fate is long gone now. If she felt anything close to what Olive is experiencing now, Olive is happy for her. She remembers how Morgan called out to her. It fills her with happiness to think that her friend’s last act was to summon her, so that she could join her in belonging to the Slime. Olive realizes she arrived at the perfect time: too late to spoil things for Morgan, and still in time to be claimed by the Slime herself. Everything worked out exactly right. Now she just needs to relax and finish asphyxiating.
The end must be getting close now. The protests from Olive’s body are becoming frantic, and thinking is difficult, but the joy and euphoria only get stronger. The thought of what’s coming next thrills her even though she won’t be there to experience it. She’s doing so good, and she can tell the Slime is so proud of her, and she’s going to be with it forever…
Her last coherent thought is a dazed, blissful chant of acceptance. Yes, yes, yes…
~~~
For the next day the Slime lies motionless in the bathroom, gleaming under the bright light. The two bodies within slowly dissolve, transforming into fresh goo to add to its mass. When the last traces of human shape have melted away, it slowly oozes down the shower drain and disappears with a quiet gurgle, leaving the bathroom pristine.
Eventually the apartment is searched. The tattered remains of Olive’s clothes are found, but they carry no traces of the culprit. The Slime is already far away. Nobody finds out what happened.