FEStival Fiasco

FEStival Fiasco

Part 6

Phecda’s little safe house was near the outskirts of the exam site. A simple apartment building with walls neatly decorated as though a prince lived in them.

‘Maybe that’s why he picked that host,’ thought Centaurus as he made his way down the halls and towards the lobby. Everything was far too pristine, far too unnaturally beautiful. It wasn’t unlike the buildings back at Terras, home world. This place was probably familiar for an Elite like him.

Elite…

“Worms don’t make for such fine test subjects,” Phecda had said. The words still bothered Centaurus. What had he been trying to imply? And did Centaurus want to know? Just the idea of being considered a ‘test subject’ annoying him to no end.

“Is he saying I’m not a worm…?” Centaurus muttered out loud. A few passing residents spared him a glance, the curiosity clear in their expressions. However, Centaurus didn’t pay them much mind. He only wanted to see if their body language betrayed any intent to fight.

Was Phecda suggesting that Centaurus was somehow better than his peers?

“Sunuvabitch,” he muttered as he walked past the automatic doors. Golden flowers and vines made of fine metals decorating the glass. The sheer lavishness of it all made him ill. He was glad to be leaving the building. Taking his first step forward, his gaze instantly shifted to the professor leaning up against the wall just a few feet away from the entrance.

Professor Polaris’ eyes didn’t widen when they wandered over to Centaurus. His pose, lax shoulders and a hunched back, remained static as he spoke up. “Ah! Quite fortunate, seeing you here,” he said, lazily raising his arm in a small greeting. Despite his attempts to seem casual, he had been expecting Centaurus. Polaris should’ve been at least a bit surprised or had some sort of reaction to seeing him.

‘What is he playing at?’ thought Centaurus. ‘He was waiting for me.’

Even after several hours, Polaris retained the same host. For whatever reason, whenever he found a body he didn’t seem to enjoy discarding it until the mission was over. Centaurus had once overheard a student from another class refer to Polaris as ‘overly sentimental.’

“How have you been, Centaurus?” said Polaris as he approached. “I trust your tasks have been finished?”

“Professor,” said Centaurus with a curt nod. “Is there something you need?” Answering his question, for whatever reason, didn’t feel right at the moment. It’d be better to just remain discreet. Centaurus also noticed that Polaris’ stance was unusually lax. His knees were straight, his hands were in his pockets, and his feet weren’t far apart. Weren’t soldiers, especially those with stories histories like Polaris, supposed to be more serious? Despite how little humans knew of their existence, the planet was still enemy territory.

“No, not quite what I need. But I do wish to inform of some of your classmates’ conditions. Particularly that of Alcor.” Centaurus’ eyes widened, and he cursed his sudden reaction.

“What does Alcor have to do with me?” he said, attempting to remain casual.

Polaris shrugged. “From what I can tell, nothing. But that reaction is certainly interesting. Usually you just shrug and dismiss me whenever I discuss your classmates with you.”

“Well, what’s the news on Alcor?”

“He’s gone,” said Polaris, eyes brimming with… pride? Amusement? Centaurus couldn’t tell. “Left the testing grounds, and it doesn’t appear he’s returning. For all intents and purposes, he has gone AWOL.”

“Oh, I’m surprised,” said Centaurus with a shrug. He had managed to regain his composure. Just a few more exchanges and he’d walk away and be home free. “For all his talk, I wouldn’t have guess he’d just up and vanish. Guess he was all bark and no bite.” He said, forcing a snicker.

“Aww… is that any way to talk about your new friend?” Despite his teasing words, Polaris’ eyes almost looked sympathetic. Centaurus didn’t respond. He dropped his arms to the sides and glared at his professor. “You know, Centaurus… to live freely is to give other freedom. To gift him that chance to escape, that opportunity to shape his own life and future, is something beautiful. Did it feel rewarding?”

“...Why aren’t you reprimanding me?” asked Centaurus, narrowing his eyes. “You almost sound proud of me. Why? Shouldn’t I be…I don’t know, expelled? Punished? Even just scolded?”

Polaris didn’t stop smiling. Instead, he turned around and gestured for Centaurus to follow. “Walk with me. We should talk privately.” Before Centaurus could respond, Polaris had already begun walking off. They were headed towards a more populated part of the fair. Not far from them was a closed, unattended booth. That was most likely his destination.

“H-Hey, wait damn it!” Centaurus ran to catch up with Polaris’ stride. The professor’s host had longer legs, and he almost seemed determined to leave him behind. “Asshole…” Centaurus muttered once he finally caught up. “… it was bittersweet.”

“Hmm?”

“You asked me how it felt—with Alcor. It felt, still feels, bittersweet.” It had been a brief connection, but it was one of the few that Centaurus had ever made. To watch it go and ride off towards a land promising freedom tore at his heart. It was difficult not being envious. “He’s fine, he’ll be happy, out there. But, I’m still here. Still the same.” He looked up at the sky. The sun was beginning to descend, dyeing the world a vivid orange. Everyday, the sky changed hues.

“I try to change,” continued Centaurus, looking down at his rough, scarred hands. It was unfamiliar to him, and yet he still remained the same worm he always was. The faces he wore and the memories he ingested were all different, yet the scars he bore and the faint hope he clung onto remained the same.

Static. Stagnant.

“I wish I could’ve gone with him. I wish I could’ve escaped and shaped my own future with my own hands. But I was scared.” His voice cracked as he spoke. His host’s heart was racing, each thump an agonizing reminder of his own life. Why had he survived while other worms didn’t? Why did he continue to live? “I always thought becoming a Dreadfighter, becoming someone, would bring me happiness and freedom. And maybe it will. But I still wonder why I didn’t just run away with my friend. Why just being someone to Alcor wasn’t enough to let me run alongside him.” He looked up at Polaris. “Professor, did I make the right choice? Or am I just weak?”

“I can’t say,” he said. “No one can know what choice is the right one. We simply choose and allow the consequences to play out. If we don’t like them, we just deal with outcome and make another choice later down the line. That’s what life is, Centaurus. That’s the beauty and terror of freedom.” Polaris raised his arm and stopped Centaurus in his tracks. “And you made your decision. You chose to help Alcor find freedom, Centaurus. Extending a hand out in kindness, even after facing so much abuse from others, from your own kind, takes a type of strength I deeply envy.”

Stepping forward to stand in front of Centaurus’ host, Polaris placed a hand on Centaurus’ borrowed chest and squeezed. “Your heart is scarred, and it remains strong. It’s so easy to hurt someone else because you’ve been hurt. But you chose differently, Centaurus. As your teacher, I am so very proud of the choice you made.”

“Professor, I…”

Before either of them could continue, “A-HEM,” a loud and deliberate cough cut them off. They both turned to face a round-faced women with a babbling infant in her hands. “Pride is important and all, but please don’t grope each other where kids can see you.” Polaris withdrew his hands, muttering a sheepish apology as his ears turned red. “Thank you.” With a huff, the woman walked off.

The two stood there in silence before Polaris let out a snicker. “Snrk…! Heheh…! Here I was trying to be all emotional that I forgot humans don’t share such intimacy with each other.” It wasn’t long before he was full-on laughing, shoulders bouncing up and down as that little embarrassed joy filled the air.

Centaurus joined in for a second with a few light-hearted chuckles, but remained paranoid the whole time. “Professor, what’s the real reason you wanted to speak to me?”

“Ah, yes, yes!” nodded Polaris. “Come. We should talk privately.” He walked over to the booth’s closed curtains and gestured for Centaurus to walk in. He didn’t. After a few moments of waiting, he nodded and said, “Smart. Don’t show your back to someone if you’re not 100% certain you can trust them.”

“It’s just common sense.”

“Not to those who can afford it. Those we call ‘Elites.’ I do apologize that to you it is common sense, Centaurus. Or for anyone, in that war-fueled society of ours.” Polaris stepped into the darkened booth first, and Centaurus cautiously followed.

“There’s a lot that needs to be said,” said Polaris, his voice dropping low and losing any of the levity it previously had. “And some that can only be shown to be believed. But I suppose there’s no easy way to ease someone into this next bit of news.

“Centaurus, our society relies on the weak thrown and killed on the front lines or dying in the mines for resources to fuel our machines and weapons to fight. Or even as slaves, not servants, to Elites who see them as lesser.” With each word he uttered, his voice became softer and somber. The look in his eyes, a bit harder to tell in the dark booth, grew dull and damp. It was as if speaking about this was sucking the life out of him.

“War and hierarchy are intrinsic parts of our society,” he continued. “And this decades-long war, having started long before I was even born, allowed for technological prosperity, but social stagnation. It makes sense, doesn’t it? We can’t move forward without risking stability, and no one wants that in the middle of wartime.

“But, Centaurus… you, me, and all who have died and lived in the 20 years have been living a lie. The war has been over. Our Emperor has made fools of us all.”

Rest Stop

"N-No... please..." Jason groaned, unable to stop as his arms began to play with his chest and nipples. Electric sensations and pure bliss filled his mind as the world around him became grew fainter.

It had begun with a small, almost invasive, breeze flowing through the plains. Then, his belt fell to the ground as his buttons became loose. Jason wasn't sure what was happening, but he was certain he felt some sort of phantom sensation grope and play with him.

Then it began to spread throughout his body through his ass crack. He threw his head back, leaning up against a cliff, moaning like a slut in heat as his body was invaded. Jason blushed as he felt his cock stiffen at the sensation.

"N-No... ngh...! AAAHHH!" His cock, having leaked precum for the past few minutes, stiffened as it shot out load after load of white sticky semen. Jason let out a cry of despair and relief as his eyes rolled up the back of his head. It was a sweet relief, but it didn't last long as he lost consciousness. His body convulsed in the desert heat, propped up only by the cliffside.

Eventually, Jason's body stilled as he slowly opened his eyes. His hands explored each new patch of skin as though it wasn't his own. "Thanks fer the bod, cowboy," said the entity that took over Jason. "Don't worry, I'll treat ya reaaaal nice."

This is exactly what I wanted lol

Oh my god 'Eight cups...' series loved it. The tragedy, the quest for self, and your writing just brings it all together. But next time why don't you just shoot me in the heart? I think that'll be easier XD.

This is the exact reaction I was hoping to see. Thank you so much for your ask, it’s always real nice to see feedback for my work! It’s good practice for my passion as well.

Mermaid Days

A mermaid is never meant to have a happy ending. Lost in a love deeper than the ocean itself, they walk the earth in pure, never-ending agony in an effort to remain close to their beloved’s side. Unable to speak, they simply observe and adore as the sensation of sharp blades pierce their sole with every step they take as they follow their heart on their thousand-mile journey.

Yet, despite their longing, their beloved always finds another. And without fail, the mermaid watches in a brooding, drowning sadness as their one true love walks beyond the shore and into a land they cannot follow. Their wishes of adoration and delicate heart melt away into sea foam drifting in the ebb and flow of ambivalent currents.

However, the desire of a heart can still remain. “One dance,” is the wish of the sea foam. “All I ask is for one dance, to feel loved just once.”

To have one’s gaze centered on them and only them is a mermaid’s fleeting wish. On a fateful day, it came true. For just a few transient moments, their wish became reality.

“C’mon, it’s been far too long since we’ve been at the beach!” shouted Mike to his boyfriend. Mendoza sighed, but allowed himself to smile for Mike’s sake. He wasn’t wrong. After several years of saving up vacation days and whatever spare money he could gather, Mendoza and Mike finally had enough to vacation in the Galapagos for about a week or so. It wasn’t quite the vacation of their dreams like Mendoza had hoped so, but Mike was happy, so it couldn’t be too bad, right?

Mike ran across the golden sand, kicking off his sandals on the way, and cannonball’d into the ocean. Sea foam sprayed everywhere, accompanied by Mike’s laughter as he resurfaced. “The water feels so nice…!” he said, briefly stretching before diving back under the surface. As he did, he caught sight of sea foam that didn’t dissipate in the water. Rather, it seemed to be swimming towards him—purposefully, even. Confused, he stared at it, mesmerized, until it suddenly sped towards him.

Mike opened his mouth to gasp, and that was all the foam needed. It shot past Mike’s lips and joined them mouthful of salt water that he was swallowing. Mike’s body twisted and convulsed as a cascade of spiritual remains made their temporary home in his body. His toes quivered; fingers clasped and let go in rapid succession; and his eyes rolled back, revealing only the whites. His shorts tented as the rush of the take over was as pleasurable as it was painful. His tight muscles, previously wound up and tight, relaxed as they embraced the sea’s strong yet gentle embrace. Opening his brand new eyes, Mike swam to the surface with a blue hue in his hazel eyes.

Mendoza furrowed his brow in concern. Mike hadn’t come up for air in a while. Did he get a cramp? Was he drowning?! He was about to run into the water before Mike suddenly emerged, throwing his head back as though doing a hair flip. The water followed his motion, becoming a crescent shape that glistened in the off-season sun. It was a private show only for Mendoza, and he couldn’t help but be amazed.

“Woah...” he whispered as he approached Mike, who was running his hands down his chest. “Always were a drama queen,” Mendoza chuckled as he set foot into the water. It wasn’t nearly as cold as he expected. In fact, it was quite warm. Almost inviting.

At the sound of Mendoza’s voice, Mike nearly flinched, but his shock melted away as an easy-going and familiar smile graced his face. He gestured towards the water with his chin, goading Mendoza to get even deeper. “All right, I’m going,” said Mendoza. By now, he was at about chest level. The water only seemed to be getting deeper to his surprise. “But let’s not get too far, I don’t want to—WOAH!” Mendoza was hardly able to get a word out before he was suddenly pulled to the depths of the ocean. His only thoughts before he blacked out were, We weren’t even that far from the shore.

When he came to, Mendoza saw the eyes of his his husband staring back at him. The short hair flowed freely in the light blue water they were submerdged in. Mendoza should’ve been panicking, but he found little reason to do so. His lungs weren’t on fire and his body was light, as though he was flying through the air rather than swimming in water that had no beginning, no end. It was more as though they were flying through the sky than in the water. The ocean was warm and gentle. They were fine. “H-How is this possible?” Mendoza found himself saying, somehow able to speak despite the water around them.

In response, Mike held his finger to his lips and took Mike’s hand in his own.  “L-Let’s… Let’s not worry… about that,” he spoke uncertainly, as though getting used to haviing a new voice for the first time. “Let’s dance.” He gently pulled Mendoza closer, their arms and legs intertwining. “I-I wanna dance.”

“But I--” before Mendoza could say anything, Mike’s kissed him passionately. His words died on his throat and he simply enjoyed the sensation of kissing his husband when salt water filled his mouth. Unable to spit it out, he had little choice but to swallow. A light, bubbly feeling tingled in his chest before spreading out from his core to the tips of his fingers and toes. Without wanting to, he was smiling. Then he started laughing, his booming voice muffled in the water. Mike joined in. They grinned and caressed each other. Their fingers explored their faces, as if taking in the sensation of hair, skin, ears, and muscles for the first time.

Mendoza’s actions were no longer under his control, but the sensation was far too much fun to struggle against, so he let it happen. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him, but he didn’t care anymore. It felt too good.

Their bodies mingled and caressed before separating, joined only by their intertwined fingers. They spun in the water, gazing at each other before pulling the other closer. Mike dipped Mendoza low before springing him high into the water. Mendoza twirled in the air, tiny bubbles trailing behind his outstretched fingers before he sank back onto his husband’s loving embrace.

They spun as a pair, chests touching as they held the other close. Then, they separated once more, each of them twirling through the water before returning together in a fond yet quick kiss. With every electric touch, Mendoza felt his body grow hotter and hotter as goosebumps spread down his arms and legs. He wanted to feel his husband. No, not just that. He wanted more than just a dance, he wanted to make love Mike like it was their wedding night.

Their swim trunks floated up to the watery heavens as they got into position. “Ngh, oh yeah…!” Mike said through gritted teeth as Mendoza slammed his cock inside of him. “F-Fuck, you’re so big…!”

“Your hole…!” cried Mendoza, biting his lower lip as he drilled his husband. “It’s the right shape and size—oh, fuck! It’s like you’re pulling me in.”  

“Are ya gonna cum in me?”

“Do-Do you want me to? Oh!” Mendoza let out a gasp as he felt Mike’s legs wrap around his torso and pull him close. It was as if Mike was trying to fuck himself on Mendoza’s cock. “All you had to do was say yes,” he grinned as his soft yet firm rhythm picked up.

“Speaking’s still so new to us...” said Mike, stretching his torso and throwing his hands behind his head as his husband pounded him.

They continued exploring each other’s bodies and becoming intimate with each other. Their dance, their courtship, wasn’t the same as the love all of the mermaids had lost. However, the closeness they felt was something they had longed for so long that a mere emulation was enough for them. It was much like playing House, but they didn’t mind. In that space created by the hopes of creatures that should’ve have existed, a false love that would ebb like the tide was allowed to flourish and flow.

As their sweaty bodies continued to grind against each other for what seemed like a euphoric eternity, the climax began to approach. “O-Oh, oh I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.”

“M-Me too! I’m—Oh my god!” Their time was short. In those few seconds they had left to spare, the two men wrapped their arms around each other as their bodies ejaculated. They stared one last kiss, the tears of a dream long thought to be beyond their reach drifting into the ocean’s gray waves. As their high died down and their lips parted, they each coughed out sea foam before passing out.

The remnants of the mermaids vanished. Though they could never reunite with the loves that they longed for, simply being loved and touched was enough. Satiated, they drifted through the ocean and faded from existence, no longer weighed down by their regrets.

Mike awoke covered in sand and feeling extremely refreshed. It wasn’t unlike waking up after his honeymoon with Mendoza. “Yo, Menny,” he said, lightly shaking his dozed-off partner. “Wake up, we fell asleep on the beach.” He let out a small moan as he sat up. Did they do it before they ended up asleep on the beach? Naw, their shorts were still on. So then…?

Mendoza let out a small sigh as he stretched and scratched his pits. “Hmm…? Oh, hey. Night.” He turned over and started snoring again.

“Hey! Wake up, ya slob! We’re not wasting a second of our vacation ya sunuva—!” Modesty saved by the merciful nature of the mermaids, the couple enjoyed their vacation, completely unaware of the favor they did the grieving souls of supernatural creatures. Perhaps just by living and loving, they managed to brighten up the world of outcasts just out of view.

My ass could never RP bro, I would just stop in the middle and ask, “Ok, but what about the world-building?” lmao

Acidic Emotions

Scott had been able to escape. His son was just lithe enough to escape out the basement window. The thought of that was almost comforting to Mr. Wilson as the gelatinous creature lurched closer to him.

The lime-green creature had become about as large as the doorway it was passing though. In fact, it almost seemed to struggle to fit through.

With a deep sigh, Mr. Wilson stared down the creature with a defiant glare. He had seen the way it had dissolved pieces of the couch the couch, his shoes, and several other items. Whatever composed the creature was likely acidic. Now that it had its prey, Mr. Wilson, trapped, it eagerly “rushed” as much as a limbless cube could do.

Mr. Wilson sighed and shut his eyes. He tried to reposition himself to allow blood to flow back into his thighs, but quickly stopped with a hiss of pain. In trying to outrun the creature, he had fallen down the steps and either broke his hip or badly dislocated it.

Scott, bless his soul, had tried to help him. Though about to enter a prestigious college, Scott was still blissfully unaware and inexperienced in the danger of the world. Before he wasted too much time on a lost cause, Mr. Wilson roughly grabbed his wrist.

“Go get help, boy. Go on, get outta here!” Mr. Wilson had cringed at his son’s hurt expression as well as his own foul tone. Yet… what else could he do? He could only hope that his son had enough sense to escape and not look back.

“Just wish it was a quick death,” Mr. Wilson muttered as the slime now stood before him. It transparent mass jiggled like jello and distorted the light that crossed it in an otherworldly manner. Mr. Wilson tilted his head in confusion as he peered deeper into the slime. It didn’t move to attack him, and yet its body still seemed to twist and contort.

Mr. Wilson saw himself, but not quite himself. It was a reflection that was much happier and practically bursting with life. His posture was much better, his smile was nearly blinding with none of the usual crookedness his own did, and his eyes—lime tinted as they were—were hypnotic to look at.

“I… I-I… I understand.” Ignoring the burning pain in his hip, Mr. Wilson crawled over to the creature and slowly dove inside.

The inside was cool yet oddly warm. It was as if the liquid-like specimen was caressing and massaging his body with thousand of fingers. He kept his mouth shut, afraid of swallowing any of the slime. However, the erotic sensation of having all the pores and hairs of his rubbed and worshipped caused him to nearly moan and scream in pleasure. His legs whipped back and forth, thighs quivering as he wished both for sweet relief and for the slime bath to never end.

Feet, chest, armpits, and neck—all of them were touched and loved in a way they had never been before. The pressure continued to build in Mr. Wilson’s core as dark spots danced in his vision. Precum built up at the tip of his cock, bouncing and trembling with every passing second. Then, just as the pleasure began to melt his brain, Mr. Wilson opened his mouth to moan.

The slime took its chance to strike. It flooded into Mr. Wilson's mouth in a relentless torrent. However, Mr. Wilson could no longer even panic. All he could do was indulge and convulse in pleasure as the creature overtook his body.

It only took about five minutes. All that remained was just slivers of lime-green essence scattered throughout the floor and the man that contained the creature's essence. Mr. Wilson's body licked its lips before rising into a sitting position. It looked down at its new vessel, head tilted with curiosity as it stared at the tattered remains of its shirt. For whatever reason, the material didn't react well to its chemical composition.

Well, it didn't mind. With a pleasure groan, the creature stood up and began to pace around the room, testing out its new beefy thighs and large feet. Just the simple act of walking was a brand new world to the slime. Soon after it began to jog around the room, body jiggling and bouncing as it moved without care. Mr. Wilson's injured hip was completely cured. All the slime did was lock back into place and replenish the torn muscle. It was an easy fix for one so linked to Mr. Wilson's body.

A voice called into the basement. Then, footfalls. "Hey, Bill? Uhh... Howdy?" The slime paused, suddenly feeling a rush of embarrassment--something no doubt left over from the slime's absorption of Mr. Wilson's mind--as another man descended the stairs. No, not only that. It was a familiar face. A family friend, Jon, scratched the back of his neck as he approached. "The hell happened to yer clothes?"

A stream of memories revealed all the slime needed to know. Jon was an old friend of the family--oftentimes coming by to help either move a couch or help with a leaky pipe.

"Jon!" The slime said, mimicking Mr. Wilson's voice without flaw. It stopped to adjust the hard-on hidden in the remnants of Mr. Wilson's tattered jeans. Something about pretending to act like Mr. Wilson seemed to give a rush of domination of the slime. It was unlike anything it had felt before.

However, it had a more pressing concern. The man right in front of him was... enticing. A rush of affection washed over Mr. Wilson's body, and the slime eagerly indulged in that tidal wave of chemicals. Lust, love, confusion, self-loathing--it was a vast spectrum of emotions that it had never been able to experience before, not until that very moment.

And so, the slime approached Jon and placed a hand on his arm. Jon initially flinched away from the touch. "Uhh, hey Will, ya sure yer okay? Yer actin' strange."

"Not strange," said the slime, using Mr. Wilson's cracked and crooked lips to smile fondly. How long have these lips remained unused? it wondered, briefly lost in its own thoughts. "I just... want you to understand how much you mean to me."

A film of lime green briefly flashed over Mr. Wilson's eyes. That was enough for a spell of lust and confusion to fog over Jon's mind. Though still unsure of the situation, his resolve against the slime weakened. Skin met skin as sensual shockwaves rocked both of their minds. The slime wanted more pleasures of the flesh while Jon's heart began to race.

"Kiss me," said the slime through Mr. Wilson. Jon nodded and threw himself onto Mr. Wilson. The two men fell back onto the floor. Jon's weight gave the slime a comfortable pressure on its borrowed chest. It wasn't unlike a weighted blanket--another experience it had plucked from Mr. Wilson's memory.

The two made out for several moments, grinding and humping against each other. Then, Jon pulled away and began to slip off his shorts with one hand. "Been waitin' so long fer this...!" he whispered, smirking to himself as he revealed he had been going commando the whole time. "Fill me with yer cock, Bill! Plug me fool."

The slime was only too happy to oblige. It threw Mr. Wilson's head back as Jon rode the cock like a cowboy. "C'mon...! C'mon, cum fer me, boy." Jon muttered wildly, sweat causing his shirt to cling to his skin as he worked his hips like magic.

Then, it happened. The slime felt Mr. Wilson's core tense up before it found itself shooting loads of cum into Jon's ass. "Yeeeee-haw!" cried out Jon, flexing his arms as he rode out his own climax. The slime giggled to itself as it felt the warm semen splatter all over Mr. Wilson's face. However, as the sensation of its climax began to wane, the slime felt parts of itself shoot out of Mr. Wilson's cock alongside the cum.

"Hey--woah! Damn, Bill, ya cum like a stallion!" said Jon, finally growing suspicious. "H-Hey, what the fuck--?!" He let out a strangled cry as his limbs began to grow numb. "B-Bill, get help. Ple-Please...!" The slime, head resting on its borrowed hands, just grinned as Jon struggled.

From the memories it had, the slime knew that Mr. Wilson's son might just come back in a vain effort to save his father. Perhaps he could also dump a fat load of itself into him. It could already feel euphoria as Jon's mind and plugged hole filled its long list of experiences.

"Keep riding me, Jon. C'mon, cowboy!"