She whimpers reminded of where she was, his presence refusing to depart though she tried to ignore it that simply was not possible with the way the syrup smashes over her. Of course she is his to do with as he pleases she has no choice in that given the circumstance she found herself in.

Torment equated to pain in her book and Bria was squeamish about that. “PLEASE!” She pleads as she pulls away a little from her double though she cannot get far. Oh how she wished she would have one of her attacks about now she is denied this.

Her eyes are wet though not with fresh tears just yet. “I'll, I'll do anything you ask!” Not that here's much choice in that for her anyway.

That - has possibilities. Marlin has no use for the typical currency of sexual favors, but there is something else he requires. Rather than respond immediately, he mulls over the idea, letting the girl grow more desperate for a few seconds as the object of her torment trembles against her nether lips and pearl, hard-ridged faux veins battering against the tender tissue with an incessant hum. But then, the slime double pulls back, the empty smile draining away, as its facial features wash off and a single thick eye a foot across opens up in their place: a gargantuan orb, hot white in the center, that stares right through Bria.

I REQUIRE ANOTHER. Marlin dictates. YOU HAVE TEMPORARILY DECREASED IN NUTRITIVE VALUE. A SUBSTITUTE WILL BE YOUR ESCAPE.

The simulacra's hands slide down Bria's back to grip at her cheeks, spreading her wide against the cool press of slime - before the gel hardens into a thick rod that nuzzles against her anal pucker with a fat, flaring head. OR I WILL EXTRACT MY ENTERTAINMENT FROM YOU.

A dull thud rushes through her. That single eye … that dread that spikes through her as the double retracts leaving her with a choice that she doesn't want to consider though the threat of it against her ass brings her back to the present.

It had seemed that she was no more value to it save for entertainment now …

In desperation she recalls that the other girl did say some rather mean things to her but she was unaware if it were the girl or the ghost … the ghost said it was the girl and she never did deny it.

“I'LL, I'LL GET YOU ANOTHER!”

Fresh tears roll down her cheeks, it sickens her that she is even considering this, she sobs and shakes a little wondering just what he will decide ...

Marlin considers, the thick phallus still brushing at her backdoor.

Then the furnace-eye closes and the homunculus releases Bria, as the tangled web of fibers and tendrils unweave from about her, including her vibrating tormentor. She is left floating in the slime, naked but free to move, as the entire protoplasm begins to drift towards the ground from its previous position nearly a mile above the ground.

The slimegirl before her bulges oddly as it reenters the slime, but it is merely changing features; the shoulders become more broad, the neck thick with false muscle, and the fine hair vanishes into a smooth head with glaring, contemptuous eyes and heavy brows. DO SO. The face orders, its lips moving oddly out of tune with the words, not quite in sync with the syllables that rumble up from the centre of the slime. I GRANT YOU FORTY-EIGHT HOURS TO COMPLY. SUCCESS WILL BRING YOU FREEDOM. FAILURE WILL BRING YOU SLAVERY.

The slime touches down upon the grass behind the treeline, retreating from around Bria and leaving her clothes in a pile around her. They are curiously dry, as is her skin; Marlin's mass is precious enough that he does not leave it in smears upon some fleshling's skin. SUCCEED OR FACE MISERY.

Forty-eight hours … maybe she could make this look like a random attack and not some set up. She feels bad for this but there is nothing further that she can argue about. She even considers not doing it but if these things were real and here was nothing stopping him then he would find her eventually and make her pay;

Tentatively she nods finding that she is naked but surprisingly dry. That was the deal, another girl. Two days.

“Same spot?” She wonders how they'd arrange a time for all this or should she pick one with the understanding he would be around. “Say seven o'clock? No wait, winter, darker earlier … four o'clock?” She finds that her clothes are dry too as she begins gathering them up.

Marlin ripples with amusement and takes to a hover again, circumspectly leaving behind a small dust pile - shed hair, dirt from blocked pores, skin oil, all these things that compromise the leavings of a solid living being, part of why they disgust him. He cannot imagine simply leaving parts of himself behind; he is complete and will remain so. ANYWHERE OUTDOORS. I WILL KNOW AND FIND YOU. YOUR CHOSEN TIME IS ACCEPTABLE.

Having taken a cerebral scan, he is able to track her down perfectly as long as the information remains; a week, maybe two, if he limits his extrasolar travel. Hardly a burden.

Having said everything that needs discussing, the slime exudes his flight film and silently lunges away back up into the stratosphere with but the ripple of air flowing back into his place to mark his passing.

Unaware that he could find her so easily now at least for a little while she would have been glad if she had known this. She was going to do this. She's glad that he doesn't insist on someplace dangerous that she may not have been able to get to.

She dresses. Two days. Well if she can't get that Daphnee girl then she's have to admit that she failed. How to get her out here though? Curiosity perhaps? Only time would tell. Poor Daphnee ...