Phago-Protocol Dendritic Lepto Written by Septia. You run. The others are gone, forget them, forget them, you can't lose focus, just forwards. Down the path, between the buildings in the desolate town. Safe, safe, where is safe. -Tcht- -Tcht- -Thcht- You hear the steps behind you. Some friends you had, they couldn't even get you a solid head start. Duck through the alley, shake them off, shake them off. Safety, you need time, just a few days of solitude was a price you'd trade your essence for. Corners were your friend; the more corners between you and the pursuers, the longer it would take for them all to find you. Street, corner, corner, street, corner… Door. It was open… It looked too good to be true. There was no time. The door clapped shut behind you -Dthhd-. They couldn't have seen you. There was no way…? Back glued to the door, flat, still. The steps got closer. Slowing down. Counting seconds, dread piling on with each breath. Until the sound was gone. You could hear your breathing again, it had felt so heavy in your throat. Relief... But this, this was still not safe. You'd have to head deeper. Hiding in a basement was far from ideal, but it would be a start-. A gruelling spooling of meat thrashed by your ear -Phttwrrllsp-, in the next moment an elbow caged your neck, ivory pale biceps and flexor flexing to seal you in a vice grip, and hoisting you off of the floor. “Hhgh aagg,” you wheezed out, peering over your shoulder, and staring at the alabaster arm that had phased clean through the door to snag you. Then the dermis of the door melded and warped with a smearing grind of melting lard -Chggrlls-, puckering to meld around the surface of a face. An expression of blatant disregard underneath a kepi hat emerged. The pursuer's head trawled through the door, treating the wall as not but liquid nectar to dip through. “Shhhhsh…” she hushed you, lips pursed firm and expression vacant as more of them waded through the door, stepping clean through with half her body. You hung hoisted off of your feet, dangling from the crook of her elbow. “Shhh, shhh. Shhhuuushh,” she continued. “Struggle, and you'll pop. You’ve already made a mess of yourself, I don't feel like cleaning up another…” She was lost in thought for a moment as your air supply drained. “Does your fluids stain easily? Least privy me that information, before things get splatter-y. But, know, I'll figure out if you are lying,” she said. You felt her muscles throb, condensing into a pair of truck wheels converging upon your throat. “And if there's anything I despise more than cleaning… it is liars…” “Phg-shpaa hpwha,” you wheezed. She rolled her eyes. Then gave you a minute, tugging you closer to their chest. “Tired?” she wondered. She pulled the rest of their leg through the door, and slammed their sole against the now steady surface. She propped up her knee, just enough to give you something to support yourself on. Your tippy toes bumbling over her thigh. Desperate for footing. “Phaha. P-please, l-let m-me go.” “Tsk tsk tsk…” she shook her head, adjusting her black kepi hat while you struggled for breath. “You are such a wretched stain.” Her chin nestled up to your shoulder, digging into them as her breath caressed your ears with the words: “You are a rotten boy, with rotten thoughts. And rotten, filthy plans… You are up to no good… And you'll take the punishment you deserve…” She was right. You weren't exactly going to pass through the neighbourhood peacefully. “P-please, I'll d-do anything. I'll leave, I'll… I will tell you where all the others are. I'll give you their chem trail profile, you'll find all of them, every single one.” Perhaps it was just foolish. But on the edge of oblivion, the mind goes to strange places. She tilted her head. Her nose brushing through the fields of hair at the back of your nape, in the cleaving motion you could feel a faint sniff. “Keep going like that… and you might earn a good boy title.” “P-please I d-don't care about them, they are all worse than me, I am just a common nobody. I-I am nothing.” “You are right… you are nothing but waste, a worthless proteasome… But, that was one exciting run. You thought I had lost you…” she took in a deep breath, you could feel every hair on your head stand on end, drawn towards her nostrils. “And yet here you are, choking in my arms.” “I-I k-know you want to find the others too. Please.” The pale pursuer paused. “I only need so much from you, to learn everything I require.” Her grip tautened. “To make your presence known to everyone. You'll tell me where the others are, condemning your friends to melt. Then, if I let you go, and you were ever to return… You would know the consequences.” She mused. “So, you'd wish me to spare you?” “P-please?” Her mouth sank open, tongue drooling out serpentine. With every stretch of the muscles articulated – alive. “Then I just need one sample… So hold still,” she said, accepting the deal on your behalf as her arm tensed solid, buffering up to your throat until your face glowed red, and her warm maw approached. Her tongue convened with your neck, -Sllshhrlp- plastering into the tissue of your dermis, matting the surrounding areas with the warmth of her drool. It trailed upwards, paving through your skin with dunes of gooey plasma. The touch of the tongue itself was smooth as a velvet cake. It curdled your skin in frothing saliva as the singular, sprawling lap whipped up your neck, over your face, against your cheeks, and slobbered over your closed eyes. The heat radiating from the trail of her slime seeped into your core – penetrating like sheers through moss: Foreign, intrusive, and unnatural, yet so otherworldly… If sheers were designed to cut through moss, then this tongue… It was made for tasting you… Her residual heat bore through you, leaving you oscillating in her grasp. She pulled her head up with the lick, and drew her tongue back through her lips, smacking them, the saliva spreading over the luscious countenance. Her eyes widened. “Yes, leptospira. Rare seeing your kind… you are the sort of filth I expect we scrape off at the welcome mat… rather than allow you to get, this…” she leaned in close to your face, lingering at matching eyeheight, “…Far. And yet, even that wasn't far enough, was it?” she asked. You shook your head, to the extent her beefy clutch allowed you. “You are scum, leptospira.” “I-I just…” “Scum… Just admit it… admit what a bad boy you are…” She lowered her knee, robbing you of support. “I-a gha, I am s-scum,” you relented, “I a-am i-invasive, I-I a-am malicious-.” “Bad boy…” “I-Imma… b-bad boy. I-I am t-the worst scum.” “Don't flatter yourself… Even for scum, you are pathetic… but you did give me a bit of a workout. Just what I need, before…” she said, closing her eyes next to you, as her tone grew in its blunt tone, “gorging myself on bad boys like you…” Your eyes snapped open, staring at her, the expression remained unchanged, as her jaw unfixed, -Chr-Kkllpsh-. “You-you said. Y-you s-said you just n-needed a-a sample?” “I did… that was before I had your… taste.” she mused. With bloodshot eyes you stared as the maw parted into an abyss of ruby greys… and then, the sound of moist stitches of jerky-thread through sinew-cloth -Vrhrstchhrl-. A seam sprouted from the base of her chin, down her gullet, through her chest. It creaked and crinkled like frying bacon in swamp mud. -Vhlr-Crrllcth- -Krr-wrrlsh- The rift of flesh in her biology cleaved open, the unhinged jaw stretching down across her chest and stomach. The whole of her torso bloomed into an abyss of tendril infested undulations. Her breath washed over you as their body cracked open into one toothless maw, the same radiant presence of the lick warming your back, bathing it in heat. The tongue's intrusion on your skin had been contained, but this raw moisture held greater authority, melting. “You are a rare specimen…,” her voice boomed in a bass that bored through your bones like a dentist's drill, “one we have no record of, leptospira pomona.” All encompassing tremors trudged through your being – you were not but clay in her arms. “And after you assured me, you were nothing, but a common nobody…” The whole of her being reverberating as the body-length lips sculpted her words: “An exceptionally, Bad Boy… I can't let you go, liar…” The pressure from her biceps tautened, ever closer, tugging you towards the abyss, her heat soaking through your body. “However… We did make a deal, you put it all on the line. So, I'll give you, one… chance.” The dissolving heat churned around your ears. Down her maw waited only oblivion, and your muscles, were starting to resign… That's when the pressure eased… all at once, the grip unhooked your neck with a snap -Chttch-. Falling, out of the brim of her body, back towards the ground. One, single word, echoed behind you… “Run.” … … … You tried. -Cllr-Twhrrlllptch- The lips converged upon you, the whole of the pursuer's body arching forwards to fold their lips across your form, encasing you in a bulwark of meat. You had just managed to reach your left arm forwards, towards freedom. The churning and growling swarming around you roused through your mind -Chhrpghgs- -Krrslpth-. The soundscape of melting brass and boiling rubber. An outline of your form imprinted on each end of the sandwiched meatwalls enveloping all… but your left hand… which closed into a fist, as the maw drew you in with a chug of displaced meat. -Chrhggpl- -Cglloomph- -Ghhrrmp- Swallows reverberated around you as the tissue massaged your body, kneading your form with the intense, sweltering nature of her body. The encapsulating flesh pummeling and clenching you together. Your fist – the last that remains on the outside – sunk through their lips -Spltcht-. In those precious moments you had to escape, your muscles had already given up… Frozen in place. It was first, after, you were trapped, that your desperation registered through your limbs. Your muscles rouse back into action… twitches, thrashes, struggles, warping the surface of the pursuer's abdomen, bust, and throat. You laid as an oblong bulge, an impression of yourself swelling out her curves. Every aspect that made you, you, clad in her bulk and obscured by her body. Yet you struggled, harder, harder. -Ctlgpgh- -Cllrsp- You felt it all close in, the heat searing you. It felt… it. This sensation… the way it moved with your motions as the woman moaned outside, the way it melded into your skin like butter in a pan, the way the warmth distanced you form the memory of wearing your own flesh… It felt… like, this, all of her, was made to consume you… or… the thought that gave shivers trough through what remained of your floppy body: as if you were made, to be devoured by her… ~ 1 ~ The bulge contracted with a slosh of strutting through a swamp of molten cheese -Wrrgrrlsch-. The bloat of the intruder shedding definition -Crrspltcht- as each tug concentrated the bulge towards her core -Clsltpth- squeezing the melting sludge of the bacteria, her body folding to accordion the compacting sludge together with churning slaps -Kkhrl-Sthwwlp-. Each flex followed by contained moans and grunts, as the lips melded shut, and the bulk of the entire being jammed into one engorging bloat on her abdomen -Grrrhslps-. Soon, the shape of the intruder was malformed into a couch-cushion sized dune of protruding belly blubber. Hey belly jostled like gelatine, scarcely a trace of the victim underneath the pale ivory skin… “Mmf, mmmffah…,” she moaned, and traced her hand down her abdomen, the silhouette of the intruder broken down to a smooth dome. “Shame,” she muttered, “shame you tired yourself out with that run. And you were really believing this could end any other way, too. The struggles are the best when mmfff…,” she moaned. She cupped her gut, hosting it up, and then, letting it drop down -Kbwwnnk-Bjgllsh- jostling ahead of her like an oil soaked marshmallow. “Best, only when the struggle is truly desperate… Pha… ha. Cozy in there? The longer you last, the more I can extract from you. My poor, bad boy. Registering you to our memory archive will take an fmms… extensive trip through my digestive lysosome tract. But you will comply, won't you?” she mused and squeezed her fist into the side of her gut -Ckspghth- feeling it crater around her – supple like flan – and bounce back out with a jiggle -Vhh-Bhwwb- as she let it go. She stepped forwards into the building, drawing the rest of her backside through the door. One tendril reaching for a communicator. “Helper-T, come in. Another one dealt with. A rogue strain of leptospira. You'll have permission granted for a thorough examination and antigen extraction from my lysosomes once I have catalogued this bad boy. Though, he is so smooth, you might have to dig around through a lot of fudge.” She nodded, hummed affirmations through the receiver as the last of her slipped past the solid door. She did the courtesy of opening it back up before stepping back out into the street. “Of course I know where the others are. You see, his sludge,” she said while brushing down her bobbing, jostling abdomen, “is being quite cooperative,” she mused. She turned her head up, channelling the sanction of the compressed, churning boy in her guts, and opening her eyes to a cyan glow. Through her vision she sensing vibrations through the tissue, scouring through layers of the neighbourhoods, honing in on every presence matching her prisoner. “Relay to all adaptive forces,” she said, sending mapping coordinates to command, “I'm getting tired of cleaning up by myself.”