Tutty The Fruity
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Prompt: The Shapeless Seductress (Part 4)
🕑 Added 2023-02-10 13:49:08 +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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Wanda's view of the man was warped and blurry, the consequence of her eyes bubbling to the surface of her viscous, misshapen form. They pointed in different directions, unfocused, looking to pierce the fog of confusion. The unclear image of the man looming over her was unrecognizable to her in her current state; however, his chilling, condescending voice was quite familiar...
"My my..." Mr. Blackhart clicked his tongue. "Wanda, you've really let yourself go. So out of shape..."
Wanda's form gurgled and deformed further as the man stomped a black leather boot squarely down towards the center of her mass. Oozing in all directions, her eyes winced, though not in pain. He smiled wickedly as he grinded his heel back and forth, as if ensuring a particularly undesirable insect had been wiped out. She shuddered, popping and oozing and shifting constantly, absolutely unrecognizable as a woman at that point.
As he lifted his boot, he admired how Wanda's form clung to the sole of his boot in taffy, gummy strands. The slime resisted, holding it, as tendrils sprouted upwards from the ooze, climbing up his heel and angle, twisting around possessively.
"Pleeaarse..." Wanda pleaded, her voice indistinct, warbly, as if her esophagus was drowning in her own phlegm. "Hep meeee... ffffegging ou..."
"Oho? My... I anticipated the serum would change your body, but I never imagined it would improve your etiquette skills~" Mr. Blackhart taunted, kicking off the ooze with a callous shake of his foot. He kneeled down, bringing himself closer to one of Wanda's eyes so that he could make out his expression.
"What do we say when we want something?" Mr. Blackhart grinned with a wicked, expectant expression. Wanda's myriad tendrils clenched, writhing along the floor, the sensations of her body sticking, gurgling, shifting constantly... it all seemed secondary, juxtaposed to the sheer malice of this evil man. But she didn't have a foot to stand on anymore...
"...eeess... P-please... 'elp..." Wanda begged, on the verge of tears. "I 'eed... hhhelp..."
Even communicating was a struggle in her form. She couldn't force the words out through her collapsed lungs, throat or vocal cords. Mr. Blackhart scoffed, rising to his feet.
"A woman must learn to pull herself together and present herself..." He chided, reaching for a holographic monitor projecting from a wristwatch-like device on his wrist. "But I suppose it is the duty of a man to guide her... Oh Wanda, rise and reform."
Wanda croaked in surprise, her body shuddering violently, surging towards the center on its own. Laps of oozing tendrils spilled over one another as she pulsated, her melted body lurching back into itself. The world shifted around her in a flurry of motion, her eyes surging towards a pillar of slime at the center of the mass. In pulsating undulations, her form lurched upwards, the puddle of ooze shrinking.
Mr. Blackhart watched with amusement, delighting in Wanda's gasps of amazement as her body continually pumped upwards, over and over. From formless ooze, invisible hands seemed to warp and massage her shape. At the base, a pillar of slime split into two legs, two tendrils flailed, before flexing into arms, tipped with hands, then fingers. Her eyes travelled up her waist and torso, slipping through the cleavage of her swelling chest, and slipping into a head popping out from defining shoulders, like a turtle popping out of its shell.
As the last of the ooze settled into her curves, Wanda examined herself, her human body seemingly reformed all on its own. She made out her toes, her fingers, her navel... somehow, even her hair had reappeared, flowing down her bare back in long, brunette streaks. She was astonished at her restored figure, though something was off about it. It was too shiny and sleek, her curves more pronounced, her clothes... there were no clothes, she was bare naked!
"What... happened...??" Wanda gawked at herself. She reflexively shifted her arm to clutch her chest, but yelped as Mr. Blackhart's hand shot out to clasp her wrist. There was a terrible strength to his grip; she could feel him squeeze hard, yet she didn't feel no pain, just a mild discomfort.
"You needn't hide your perfect body now. Why be ashamed of your new form?" Mr. Blackhard tilted his head. "Modesty is unbecoming of you, Wanda..."
"Wh-what did you do to me??" Wanda tried to get away from Mr. Blackhart, trying to step back, to pull back her arm... but an elasticine creeeeeak punctuated her movement, and as she frantically darted backwards to put some distance between herself and the evil man, she could feel her arm stretching taut, like taffy; she let out a terrified croak.
"Already falling apart after I had restored you so well..." Blackhart tsked, before narrowing his eyes. "Oh Wanda, return to me."
Wanda gasped as she felt her body freeze up, yielding to his command. She stepped forward robotically, her outstretched arm retracting in turn, until she stood at attention. Terrified, her mind as lucid as ever, looked over her own body, unmoving and attention. She wasn't even breathing, she was so still.
"What is..." Wanda muttered. "I-I can't move my body..."
"We don't have the luxury of time to ensure you achieve mastery of your new body," Blackhard explained, leering at her form. "So I bear the responsibility then, of assuming control for myself. At least until you... understand your purpose here."
"...my... my purpose...?" Wanda stuttered. She felt a chill, as if she were about to break into a cold sweet. Yet she stood firm, almost statuesque, as Blackhart stepped closer, fingers tensed to cup the underside of her breasts. Outrage swelled within her at such a bold display, to fondle her like this... but her body reacted in a different way, her buxom swelling more and more against his cool, rough touch. He cupped the underside of one of her breasts, squeezing it like a water balloon that could only yield to his very touch.
"You won't have to fret any longer, Wanda..." Blackhart cooed, leaning forward to whisper into her ear. "Everything you are... how you look, how you think, how you are... all of everything that belonged to you... is mine."
Wanda was terrified. Her entire body was paralyzed, yet she felt every agonizing moment of the man fondling her breasts with malicious intent. Her body was so warped and deformed by him... a sinking feeling gripped where her heart used to be. Was she to be reduced to some sex pest's plaything after all!?
