Tutty The Fruity
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Prompt: The Shapeless Seductress (Part 11)
🕑 Added 2023-10-05 20:53:13 +0000 UTCSummary: An exotic dancer is kidnapped by an evil scientist, and is injected with foul serums, rendering her body pliable, soft, and amorphous. She struggles with her new body, sometimes claylike, sometimes gooey, always alien. Commissioned by an anonymous user.
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Part 11
There was no rest for the wicked, with Wanda sent out on another mission, to assassinate a key target. Blackhart couldn't contain his excitement at the debrief, which sent a chill down Wanda's metaphorical spine. It would involve everything she was designed to do.
Her body no longer her own, Wanda sullenly paced towards the latest objective. It was an underground speakeasy and exotic dance bar, glossed up to court disreputable cretins of considerable wealth.
Wanda's shapeshifting abilities made it hardly a trifle to infiltrate the joint, but it wasn't enough that she let herself in without anyone noticing. Someone would notice if an extra girl was in the building, and they would surely come down on her. Thankfully, the changing rooms offered her an out to this conundrum.
Melting to the consistency of molten taffy, Wanda oozed her way through the ventilation, pausing to look down through a grate, down into one of the changing rooms. She spotted a performer looking herself over at the makeup counter—long black hair, olive complexion—and quickly identified her as the star performer. Wanda needed her body if she were to get close to her target...
Wanda wasted no time as she melted through the grate, slopping onto the performer's head. She opened her mouth to scream, only for a tendril of Wanda's formless body to slip inside, muzzling her entirely and closing off her windpipe, all so she wouldn't make a sound. Wanda silently shuddered, feeling this woman's skin flare up, goosebumps rising across her body, her heart racing. Wanda wrapped around the woman and clenched hard, the woman's terrified expression pressing through her taffy-like body.
As Wanda held the woman in place, a tendril split from her body, coiling upwards and narrowing to a needle tip; it pressed into the back of the woman's neck, injecting a sedative to knock her out for roughly six hours, well enough for Wanda to finish her mission. As the woman's struggles wavered to a halt, Wanda oozed off of the woman, rapidly reforming into a humanoid shape... but not her own shape. As her cheekbones pressed out and reformed, a slender body reshaping itself, a mirror image of the woman she had ensnared materialized, garbed in the same sensuous attire.
Wanda's arms extended in front of her to ropey lengths, wrapping around the woman before tossing her onto the bed. If everything went as planned, this woman would be charged with the murder of her very same client. The cruel irony of the situation wasn't lost on Wanda, but she couldn't express her pain. She couldn't emote beyond what Blackhart's programming required of her.
Turning stiffly to the mirror for one final checkover, Wanda, wearing this stranger's skin, paced out the room, down a hallway, and towards her client...
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Wanda felt out of place in the chambers with this man, who would've been a stranger to her, had her mind not been consumed by data profiles of this man. An underworld magnate who reeked of cigars and expensive boozes, Wanda seemed to waste no time putting on the moves... though it was less her own performance and more of a scripted sequence. She felt like she was trapped in a 4D experience, a passenger in another person's body, stimulating another man.
The man must've felt invincible in such a chamber with half a dozen armed guards. With the full promise of this business' reputability, he expected no foul play, eager to dismiss them with a flick of the wrist. Wanda felt a purr of satisfaction rumble from her throat, one that wasn't her own.
Wanda abandoned all pretense when the show began, approaching the target with a lusty saunder, swaying her hips with each step while sensuously rubbing herself all over. The man beamed, pleased with the display as she lowered herself down onto him. She showed off her flexibility, twisting back and forth on top of him, as if using the client as a bar. Short of relieving herself of her attire, Wanda teased and excited him with a sensuous display, massaging his chest, wrapping his arms around his, contorting around his torso... She leaned in close, stroking his chin...
Shnk.
...and in a single, precise moment, performed a subtle, killing blow; two of her fingers melted into a needle point, and speared through his neck up through his skull. It was so sudden and graceful, the man had hardly reacted, still wearing that drunken, glazed-eye smile.
With the room to herself, Wanda performed a little busywork to complete the crime scene, mutilating the perfect stab wound she had left behind with a knife, a switchblade the man had on his person. She squeezed the knife's handle, rubbing it in her palms to get some tell-tale finger prints on the shaft. She tenderly wiped whatever blood splattered on her body onto the cuff of his collar; her perfect, semi-liquid form would allow no stains.
Everything was going perfectly. All Wanda had to do now was escape. She spotted a fountain off to the side and decided to take the plumbing once more, her supermodel gait collapsing into a shifting ooze once more. For a moment, the fountain resembled an elaborate chocolate fondue display, as her body was forced through a dozen fountains in a shimmering pattern, before she could sink through the drainage.
Wanda would let herself out near the back, where a lavish park dotted with marble facades lay. This was a resort for the extremely wealthy, many of whom weren't shy about their illicit dealings or connections—a monument to their own hubris. Wanda confirmed that the coast was clear before she reformed herself, a tendril stepping out of a low flowing river along a walkway bespeckled with cherry blossoms.
Wanda didn't expect much in the way of company, given the lack of excitement for this area of the facility; restoring her typical form (though seeming garbed in a bright red, latex dress that clung to her curves), she clicked her heels as she made her way down an aisle flanked by marble statues, and away from the eyes of curious gawkers.
If Wanda's spirit wasn't so utterly broken by the things she had been made to do, she might've been more attentive to the look one of the Greco-Roman statues was giving her, relative to its life-like scale. She might've reacted when the statue suddenly moved, pulling not a sword from its Gaulic-era hilt, but a netting of highly-charged electric wires. She might've put up some sort of preemptive countermeasure, or even a fight, before the netting ensnared her, and zapped her body over and over until her internal circuitry was shorted and overwhelmed. But Wanda had been so checked out, so discouraged, reduced to nothing but a passenger in her own body, that she cared little about whatever happened to her.
If Wanda could gasp, or elicit any sort of emotional response, she would've certainly reacted to the sight of her stone-faced assailant. There was a familiar glean into those eyes, despite their body shimmering, the texture changing from polished marble to rippling liquid mercury. But as another jolt overwhelmed her synapses, Wanda collapsed into a heap of ooze. The assailant, morphing into a more feminine form, outstretched her hands, her palms stretching into two halves of a hollow ball.
CLANK! Wanda was wholly scooped up by the shapeshifting assailant; Wanda amorphously lashed about within a ball capsule-like confinement, but didn't utter a word. The mercurial shapeshift, through narrowed, glowing eyes, stared intently at Wanda.
"Finally... time to bring you back to the lab." The assailant uttered. On powerful legs, she sprang forward, leaping through the air and to the cover of the nearby woods, out of sight of any onlookers...
Comments
whiteglint
Perhaps at last a glimmer of hope for Wanda and her prison of a body or maybe a deeper abyss awaits her.
