Chapter 1

Rick wondered about the beautiful countryside. Yellow flowers dotted the fields like his own personal galaxy.

While he could recognize the beauty of such a sight, in a way, it was distant, almost like he was looking at it and himself from afar. He could’ve been in a gallery somewhere, perhaps on a date where he tried to express the meaning in the picture to appear ‘deep.’

Long grass brushed against his legs, as well as the sting of a nettle.

His mouth nearly quivered at the pain of it, but he didn’t really feel it, not really.

He didn’t feel much of anything at all.

He picked up his phone and found a few texts from Georgia, his best friend.

If he had been at that gallery with Georgia, he was sure he would have thought of something funny to say about the painting. She would’ve scolded him for not ‘appreciating the art.’ But it wouldn’t have been a date with her, so he wouldn’t have cared. And besides, he usually made her laugh anyway.

What’s up with you? one of the texts read.

He put the phone back in his pocket. The bars of signal was slowly disappearing, but that was fine; he could always walk back.

Though he supposed he should’ve felt some guilt for leaving her on read after more than a few messages.

Maybe it was the way he had phrased it. Just going on a wander. No need to worry.

Why would he say ‘no need to worry?’ It clearly only gave her reason to.

If she knew he had just quit his job on the spot and left to walk into the endless countryside on the edge of the city, with no cause to go back? Perhaps she would really be worrying.

“I should’ve asked her out,” he mused to himself. “What does it matter now? I should’ve run right up to her and kissed her.”

Georgia would have reciprocated the kiss. Hell, he knew it was more than a long time coming, as far as she was concerned.

He was willing to bet that if he had kissed her at one of their apartments, he would’ve been under the covers with her fucking passionately within seconds. She had given hints more than a few times, but Rick always pretended to ignore them.

It wasn’t to be. Georgia was his best friend, so it would never happen for more reasons than that.

He wondered if she ever knew the true reason. He suspected she wouldn’t have made any hints at all then.

Would they have even still been friends?

“What am I even doing?” Rick wondered. “I should go back.”

His boring bean-counting job probably would take him back. He could claim a momentary lack of sanity or something. Companies were all about mental health stuff lately, and it would be easier for them not to accept his resignation than to hire someone else.

Picking up his phone to find his internet, long since lacking in signal, he made to turn when something caught his eye.

in a forest, on the edge of the field, windows shined against the sunlight even through the trees.

Curiosity had him walking forward, where he was coming to this crazy victorian sort of house. There was white and black ... daubing? Was it called daubing? There was paint with black lines boarding it and one going diagonally.

As he entered the woods, getting an odd shiver despite it being quite warm and his shirt clinging to him from his walk, the roof of the house was visible, and it had a soft, cozy roundness to it, like an old cottage, with a chimney coming up above the side.

Alone in the middle of the forest, the house and he seemed to be kindred spirits. Neither of them belonged there.

Despite good sense telling him to head back home, Rick found himself climbing up the steps, where he frowned at the old door, with wooden lines running down it, almost like tree bark from its age.

“No way an axe murderer doesn’t live here,” he mumbled, then quietly hummed that creepy banjo-plinking melody.

His fist rasped against the hardwood, and after several moments, nobody answered.

“Hello?” he called. “I wondered if I could get a glass of water.”

He stepped back from the porch and realized he saw a sign above the door. Bed and Breakfast.

He found that even odder still. What sort of location was this for any sort of business?

But if it was a business, that meant he could just open the door, right?

Hell, he’d been spontaneous enough today. There was nothing spontaneous about going into a bed and breakfast where they would have actually wanted customers to enter.

“I might even be their first, judging from how secluded this place is,” he said to himself.

The doorknob turned with relative ease, but the door was jammed, so Rick—being quite a large guy—put his shoulder into it and pushed through to fall into what looked like a British pub. Boozer, did they call it? Paintings of old dudes and photos of victorian streets lined the walls. The seats on the outside were comfy chesterfield-style couches.

In the middle were regular round wooden tables.

“Hello? I wanted to get a glass of water,” he said. “Or maybe a pint, come to think of it.”

A tall glass of beer would be awesome right now, he thought.

Stepping on over to the bar, he looked around at the tables, clean, newly done so. They were the classic round kind with plenty of chairs around each one, though the room was spacious still enough to walk around on its creaking, creepy floorboards.

Rick supposed that when you give up on life, stuff that should usually be terrifying doesn’t bother you all that much.

And as such that he had given up on life; he saw no problem with going behind the bar and helping himself to a pint of lager. After all, nobody was there to serve him, and he would gladly pay them when they return.

Or get blasted in the face with a shotgun.

Nevertheless, he walked behind the bar, where there was a large mirror behind the wall, reflecting all the many drinks back at him.

Should he have a pint? Or something else?

Truthfully, all he wanted was a glass of water, so he went to find the tap and grab a glass from the shelf above.

He did a double take, though, as, between the glasses, like putty, a glowing ... goop rested on the floor of the shelf.

Goop? He went in for a closer look, reminded of that sci-fi film where the dumb scientist gets really close to the clearly murderous alien snake.

But it was just a bit of putty or something. A glow-in-the-dark bit of putty ... that was pulsating.

He fell back against the wall, making glass clang.

The pulsating blue goop slinked down off the shelf, falling onto the desk. It seemed to move like it had limbs, where the front part of the blob moved in tandem with the back part.

It fell down to his feet. He had frozen in fright to watch it sink beneath the floorboards to disappear.

Rink ran to the still-open door, the outside trees shielding the sun to make it feel like night.

Just as he got close, a shock of lightning terror jutted up his body.

The blob emerged from the ground incredibly fast. It grew and grew until finally morphing into the silhouette of a woman—a shapely woman with curves and ... what the hell?

Peach skin began to replace the shiny blueness, and the faint hint of nipples was quickly covered up by the slime.

There were a smile and eyes.

There was long flowing slime acting as hair.

She wore a dress that was reminiscent of a medieval bar wench. Though the material looked real, it glistened with shininess, almost like it was made of spandex.

She stepped forward, and I took a step back.

“Hi!” she beamed excitably. “You found me!”

Rick bumped into a chair and stopped, while the woman, who was gorgeous, yet very clearly had what Rick could only call slime for hair.

“And you’re a man, at that!” She bounced on her feet, clapping her hands. Her breasts, barely contained by the white blouse, jiggled mercilessly.

Rick couldn’t help but stare.

“And what a man,” she growled playfully. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since another soul has entered this B & B? Well? Except me, of course”

Rick ran around her, but her whole body turned glowing blue slime, and she went slim and flat, blocking his path like a wall. Once in front of him, she turned human again.

He couldn’t help but notice how plump her lips were—red like cherries.

“You can’t leave. You only just got here. What if I—” Her waist grew slim, and in its place, her breasts fattened even more. The white blouse slipped down further to reveal so much of them he was surprised he couldn’t see the nipples.

“There, she said, grinning proudly. “Want to stay now?”

Rick’s heart was racing. Worse still, his cock was betraying him, beginning to unfold against his pants.

“I won’t lie to you,” he said. “This is a bit much. Don’t take this the wrong way, but what are you?”

“I’m a woman!” she said, frowning. “Oh, what race am I? Slime, of course.”

“Right,” Rick said, ears beginning to ring. “It’s just, i’ve never met a slime before, or any other sentient race that wasn’t human.”

“Well, you have now!” she held her hand out. “Names Cerulia. Like cerulean, like the color of my slime. And yours?”

He took her hand, finding it thankfully human feeling.

“Rick,” he said.

Just like that, the entire hand turned into glowing blue slime, which felt exactly as rick would’ve expected—a little wet and slick, though not entirely unpleasant.