Tutty The Fruity
patreon
Prompt: The Shapeless Seductress (Part 10)
🕑 Added 2023-08-13 16:06:43 +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.
---
Part 10
When Wanda was moulded into the shape of an antique vase, it seemed as though she had entered a trance, or some otherworldly, distant dream... like she was watching through someone else's eyes, but couldn't move an inch. The events of the following days seemed to blur together. It was dark and cramped, and nothing really seemed to happen.
Wanda didn't feel like she had travelled a great distance, but when the crate she was stuck in was pried open, and her hardened form was propped with pride as the centerpiece of an ornate condo living room, something stirred within Wanda. The visage of a middle-aged man, air slicked back and greasy, as if treated with too much product, his tired face covered up with cosmetic surgeries and botox...
Though she remained prone, some part of her knowing to wait until the right time, a sinking feeling of terror gripped her soul. Still, as she was merely a passenger in her own body, she could do little else but watch what was about to play, as the clock rolled to three in the morning and, under a blanket of darkness, her body began to stir.
Ooze bubbled up from the lips of the vase and trickled down the curves, spilling over the ledge; tendrils of muddy slime twisted and merged into limbs, her bare heel pressing silently against the hardwood floor as she let herself down. Her torso and head reformed slowly after, her sensuous curves bubbling into shape.
Her head robotically glanced upwards, towards a second floor awning overlooking the main living room. She sensed the man's presence upstairs, and her body moved to close the distance... she tilted forward, elegantly tumbling into a handstand, her legs twisting upwards in a helix spiral. Her body tensed and morphed as it curled upwards, looping over the brass handrails, quietly splattering to the floor as the rest of her body followed in a fluid motion. As her body rapidly reformed, she pressed her fingers against the handrail, balancing herself.
As her body went through the motions of shapeshifting and locomotion, Wanda mused bitterly that her fingerprints had been spirited away by her inhuman transformation. She could mimic the fingerprints of others to plant false evidence, as Blackhart had gleefully informed him, but she would never leave incriminating evidence of her own actions in the enemy's lair.
She paced towards an imposing door, her body folding over itself as she collapsed to the floor in an oozing, writhing puddle, low to the floor, she scootched and flowed like a river under a narrow gap in the floor; popping out on the other side, her torso rapidly reformed, looping and arching in a boneless arch.
Wanda hadn't made a sound making her way to the master bedroom. As her head reformed and she surveyed the room, she noticed two bodies in the room... the man from before, and some woman, presumably a sexual partner, not listed in her downloaded memory. Wanda was bombarded constantly by mission information, intimate information of people she never knew; downloading new information didn't help with her sense of humanistic dysphoria...
Her objective was to terminate the man, but a new objective materialized in her mind. She pace towards the bed and wasted no time, ripping the sheets off the bed. The two were awoken with a start, but Wanda was quicker, wresting the skinny, scantily-clad woman from the bed and thrusting her to the far wall; her hand, wrapped around her neck, melted into a tendril, ensnaring the woman as she struggled to escape.
She opened her mouth to scream, but was quickly muzzled by a thick paste-like layer of mud; it wrapped around her arms and legs, and slithered down her throat, a gag that adhered her like a fly to a trap. In a matter of moments, the woman was secured...
Splurt. Wanda felt a piercing sensation, a strange coolness that penetrated her. Her head tilted down, nonplussed as a thin sword, like a rapier, pierced through where her heart would've been. She turned her head 180 degrees, her eyes lowering on the unkempt man, his face pale and panic-stricken, sliding further against the bedrest.
Her body shuddered, her knees inverted, her breasts sunk into one side to reemerge on the side... she had turned around without literally turning around. She gripped the handle of the blade, finding it had been hidden inside of a cane. She had no need for such a weapon.
Wanda lunged at the man, that familiar sensation consuming her forearm as it hardened and grew sharp and sleek, narrowing to a point. Her body made a rapid calculation, and pressed the blade cleaning through his skull, protruding out the back of his head. Oddly, there wasn't a sign of blood; her claylike body seemed to absorb his life essence like a sponge in water.
His eyes, wide and bloodshot, rolled into the back of his head as his body went slack. Her body melted before him, wrapping around him in a great wave. The slightly portly body of the dead man could be made out as her body bubbled and wrapped around him, tensing and relaxing rhythmically.
Wanda could feel her body breaking down on a molecular level. Her body detected his last meal—surf and turf with whisky and a cigar—and she felt violated and disgusted as his body integrated with his... they quickly burbled, popped and gurgled together, skin breaking down, blood consumed...
The woman he bedded with watched the alien display play out before her eyes, the poorly-lit room and the misshapen bodies rubbing against each other, tendrils slapping and writhing with each thrust... It was like she was watching an extraterrestrial consuming its prey...
There would be nothing left of the man when Wanda was done. Blackhart needed no confirmation, no trophy of her kill, no head delivered home... everything she perceived was recorded, every sensation, every spec of her being.
Soon, the ungodly sound of wet sucking ceased, as Wanda's body reformed... Her head glanced down to examine her naked body, feeling her curves swollen with extra biomass. Rising up like a vampire, she turned towards the terrified woman; feeling she was next, the woman redoubled her efforts to escape her bonds to escape her bonds, even as Wanda slowly, agonizingly approached...
Wanda extended a finger; it narrowed into a needle point and injected a sedative into the woman's neck. Her struggling wavered, her eyelids fluttering, as she went limp as well. Wanda's trapped mind, stirred by the change in protocol, panicked internally as her stone-faced body pressed against the woman's.
Blackhart would have a different plan for this woman... so she would have to be brought back in one piece.
Wanda's D-cup breasts, perky and voluptuous, rose up to press against hers; they swelled and rose, almost popping as they grew hollow, and pushed forward to envelope the woman's breasts. Wanda took her arms in each hand, her boneless limbs coiling around and wrapping around her, flattening in a thin membrane; her legs followed as the restraints gave, the woman pulling deeper into her; Wanda's entire body kissed her all over, dragging her deeper into herself, before closing around her.
Only Wanda was left standing. The woman had been pulled inside of her, and Wanda's claylike form served as a protective skinsuit cradling the woman. Her mission parameters would update, to constantly sedate the woman and bring her back to the facility. Her mind buzzed with new information, discrete meetup and transportation points buzzing in her mind.
Wanda stoically paced away. She hated that her body had been used to ensnare more women into whatever hell she had landed in... but she was powerless to do anything about it, except to be an accessory to a madman.
