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The King of Slime

Tarrex Shots: Chapter 4

For TeryxC by DolphinSanity

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Storm and Rain weren't the only people in their world with access to magic. Most, however, kept it under wraps.

The maned gryphon known as Teebs had arrived in a sketchier part of the city to investigate rumors from social media about a "black goo" that had supposedly been sighted flowing against gravity, seeming to move with intellect and intent. The potato-phone video of said creature was only a few out-of-focus frames of it disappearing into an old industrial pipe... because, of course it was.

Tap... tap... His tall, metal-framed walking stick quietly plodded along beside him as he looked around.

Most cryptid reports were nothing -- at the very least, nothing provable, but Teebs took an interest in alleged slimes for two reasons: the infrequency with which they were reported, and the fact that he was utterly certain they were real magical creatures -- though not ones native to this particular dimension. However, where the veil was thin, one could sometimes find very interesting specimens.

As he stepped from street level into the carcass of an old car-park, he suspected he was entering a location of genuine interest. The feel of the place -- its energy -- was so still that one could sense the slightest disturbance.

Sure, to some, the rusted-out metal poles and exposed bits of superstructure might have given it a creepy feel, but Teebs felt reasonably at home in the dark -- especially the slimy dark.

He patted at the topmost strapped pocket of his khaki cargo pants. The outline of a quartz-derived focusing crystal confirmed to his talonous gray fingers that he had not forgotten it at home. He had never done so, but this was the sort of situation where double checking was sensible.

Undoing the strap, he palmed out the crystal and tidied the rope sling and metal rings that were attached to it. He then pressed a switch on one edge of his walking stick, whereupon two wooden protrusions unfolded from its head, creating a narrow crescent-moon shape. He slipped the straps of the crystal over the two tips of the moon and then tightened the straps to set the crystal into its proper place between the wooden foci.

He felt a hum of energy -- and his sense of the area deepened. He felt the silent cellular heartbeats of algae eking out a living along the worn old concrete exterior, and in barely window-lit puddles inside. He felt the subtle flowing and sagging of every sort of organic slime. Nothing major yet.

Testing the more active side of his magic, Teebs gestured toward a particularly well-colonized puddle, perennially drip-fed by a tiny leak from a washroom somewhere above. With a small gesture, he compelled it to form into a ball -- rise, bloblike, pebble-sized though it was -- and idle that way within its damp home. By the force of his will and the small ambient flow of magic in this world, he was able to keep it that way without disruption. He silently opened and closed his beak in approval, letting off his concentration and watching the biomass settle back into the green veneer it had been previously.

He couldn't do that to the cells of any random anthro, as the terms of his magic would parse those as part of a larger, non-amorphous target. His power to manipulate slime was born of the potential of the Void: he sculpted the unsculpted -- lent direction and strength to that which, by its nature, did not have them.

Or, at least, "should not" have them. He had encountered a number of rudimentarily programmed monstrous oozes in his time -- usually the result of failed alchemical experiments by the wizarding apprentices of some technically-adjacent world.

In a pinch, he could conjure his own "proper" magical slime by arcane fiat, pulling it from beyond the veil and using his other abilities to shape and move it. However, he preferred to keep that to a minimum, especially out in public: the average boor tended not to react well when they couldn't tell what they were even looking at. Also, even among the secret magical societies of the world, Void magic was illegal -- so there was that.

Teebs strode forward and scanned the area, noting the lack of any strong signatures that would denote the presence of a magical creature. He also took mental note of the fact that a meter of concrete would more than suffice to block such signatures... and, if any of these pipes were made of lead, they could accomplish the same at far thinner sizes.

Tricky. This slippery critter might actually be hard to find.

* * *

Prey.

The three men turned, all looking in unison toward the moment's blip of a life sign they had sensed. Immediately, they followed a remembered path toward it, like AI characters in a real-time strategy game.

The signal fuzzed out a moment later, sobering their reaction and prompting them to pause. The life signature was heavily obscured by the building's dense structure, but still vaguely perceptible -- like a heartbeat through clothing. The seed of another Tarrex was waiting to be awakened -- somewhere, within this very structure.

The men were a dolphin, fox, and ferret. The latter two, faceless and blanked -- what should be their eyes obscured by a tight mask of pulsating dark latex. A subtler line of it running down their spines and filled their rears -- a shorter extension coming around and coating their sheaths and balls.

The dolphin looked perfectly normal, if a bit too beefy for someone with his slender build. Dolphins, in general, didn't tend to get this chiseled-looking too easily -- natural blubber had a smoothing quality.

Capture prey.

The gray bottlenose looked to the others and nodded, silently. The ferret and fox grabbed at their heads -- a jerky note of resistance pulsing through both host bodies, their fingers tugging at the latex and finding it stretchy and resilient, unwilling to be removed. A suctioning, teasing gyration followed over their groins and plugged holes -- tails involuntarily rising, the struggle being replaced with enforced pleasure to associate reward with the idea of compliance. A swelling at the fronts of their ambiguous, null-bulge-like groins made the depth of that pleasure evident.

Not enough, one unit of Tarrex thought -- referring to the thin-stretched status of their two most recent acquisitions.

Share, answered another immediately.

Make more.

The dolphin nodded. Clunkily, like puppets, so did the recently corrupted fox and ferret. The latter pair shivered, seeming to suffer a moment's pain as the ooze penetrated deeper into their anatomy, but it passed. The black masks upon their faces tightened -- shifted colors -- mimicked the shape and function of their hosts' true faces. In a matter of seconds, they had become largely indistinguishable: a discerning fingertip or hypersensitive nose might catch an oily aroma at close range... but, by then, it would be too late.

The dolphin Tarrex donned the tan long-coat he had been wearing when he entered. He looked to what was left of the new hosts' damaged clothing, deeming it unsuitable to put back on. Instead, it must be repurposed.

Organic textiles.

The fox and ferret dropped onto all fours. Black threads emerged from the fronts of their faces, attaching to the scraps of their former garments -- and devouring them into liquid form. It was not ideal, but it would do for now.

Stretching their added mass, those two Tarrexes spread their ooze along their hosts' waistlines and shifted the color again, now creating the appearance of denim shorts for each, with an appropriately "painted on" tightness. Each host retained just enough of a bulge to look like they might be horny younger men on the prowl -- a plausible-enough reason to be in a place like this, according to the hosts' hastily sifted memories.

They fixed the last of their color irregularities. They stood up. Normal.

Go.

...Go.

Tarrex goes.

Together, they walked, with the fox and ferret each on one of the dolphin's arms.

* * *

Tap, tap, tap...

Teebs ambled forward, the strawberry tufts of his tail swaying low near the concrete. He had been circling the edges of this first interior area to get a feel for things: facing each direction of a metaphorical clock, focusing a scan -- moving and turning, doing it again.

Whrrrrm...

That was when he felt it -- mere minutes into his search. The hum of some more powerful signature, pulling away and then suddenly undetectable. Vaguely above him and to his right.

That wasn't nothing. That was a lot of something that had put magically obfuscating material between itself and him, either by intention or by happenstance.

Time to get serious.

He reached to his next lower pocket and withdrew his goggles and white bandana, the latter large enough to be worn as a handy dust-mask along his neck while serving as a cool looking mini-mantle for his shoulders and upper back. The goggles would help keep any feisty animated slime out of his eyes, and would contribute to his "I'm just cosplaying" excuse in the event he drew any unwanted attention.

Speaking of that, he also pulled out the teal, runic bracelets that were sized for use with his doubly front-braided hair and slipped them on. They were simple wards against being scried upon or otherwise meddled-with remotely; they had never been tested against something powerful but certainly couldn't hurt to have on.

He rolled his neck quickly to shed the flutter of avian anxiety that had been welling up as he thought about what he had fleetingly sensed. He could do this; he was more than prepared, having the right skillset to charm and study most any sort of ooze that he pleased. He settled his puffing white neck-feathers and ran his talons over the larger strawberry spikes of hair that crowned the rear of his head, neatening it up and making ready.

"Here we go," he mouthed silently to himself, before closing his dark gray beak with a hunter's anticipation. He made his way toward the nearest upward ramp, going slowly so as to listen for the energy.

It remained, however frustratingly, conspicuously absent... until he was idling at the top of the ramp. He felt it again, the signature grabbing his attention and nearly causing him to spin bodily to face it as the ooze-magic flowed through him.

Just over there, past a divider wall separating one section of the garage from the next. There must have been a major crack inside of it, because he continued feeling them intermittently as they approached.

Them. Two of them. Two very similar focal points of magic energy, walking next to each other.

They rounded the corner and he saw them -- a ferret and fox, heading his way. Ambling silently, not unlike how people might do if they were actually using a parking garage for a commute. There was just one issue: this place wasn't in use, and they appeared to have even less of an excuse to be here than he did.

Teebs tried to scan them, if passively. He sensed slime magic, but he needed to get closer to parse more than that. At a distance, the signals given off were... confusing. There was an associated magical "noise" he didn't recognize, even with a clear view to them. It seemed interwoven with the signals from the ooze.

The ferret and fox approached, on track to follow the same path out of the garage that Teebs had taken to get inside. They were not making eye contact. They appeared to intend to pass by the gryphon.

Concentrating as he slowly walked forward, he was able to parse out the details. An ooze, encasing and integrating with the apparent host bodies, was emitting a signal that it either could not or would not mask.

This was like feeling a WiFi network operating on a certain channel -- and likely served a similar function. Oozes by their nature needed a way to achieve at least short-range coordination between clusters of their cells, and magical waves, of the kind that a goomancer could manipulate, were the most common way to go about that.

Still walking. Going right past him. Not the slightest hint of caring that he existed. Of course, Teebs was already giving off more than a few signals that he cared about them -- a fact of which it was easy to become a little oblivious as he struggled to figure out exactly how the slimes and hosts were integrated.

When the two seemed bent on simply leaving, Teebs tried speech. "Hello there."

He did not necessarily expect the slimes to be sapient, but he was more curious whether the hosts were still "awake" in there, or if this was some kind of sleepwalking-analogous state.

The reaction he got was not exactly shocking, but also did not provide him with any clarity: the two men turned simultaneously, facing Teebs with all of the stiff abruptness of a greeted NPC in an older video game.

"Hello," they said in unison. He could have sworn he heard three voices, one of them burbling between the others. Not exactly normal fare -- but they seemed to feel no point in maintaining a full charade around him.

This was delicate. These were the real deal. If they were sapient oozes, even relatively alien ones, he should take care not to rush into hostilities. They might more usefully be manipulated to provide him reagents -- their natural excretions, or special products that could only be created by first having an ooze digest them.

"I am called Teebs," he said simply, crossing one hand across his chest and making a polite half-bow. "Slime arcanist. Pleased to meet you."

He waited to see if the greeting drew a more humanoid reaction. It did -- but it was the wrong one.

Both of the goo-symbioted men began laughing a wrong-sounding laugh, like a text-to-speech program forcing each host's voice to utter "ha" and "heh" in rapid succession. Their bodies doubled forward in awkward spasms, heads tilting and something dark and shimmering beginning to sag and shift on the surfaces of their backs. Their disguise flaunting itself.

Then, from amidst the laughter, he heard the voice of someone else: "Amusing."

It was a suave male voice -- dark, with but a hint of gravel. Like the burbling form before, it seemed to come from between the two ooze-hosts... or maybe it was only the gryphon's head. He felt a spike of energy from the slimes' communication waves, the hosts seeming to get agitated within their thin shells.

"If they did not volunteer," Teebs suggested pragmatically, "perhaps I could arrange some more willing hosts. You appear to be symbiotic in nature."

Currently, he was working on the hypothesis that the third party was some sort of collective overmind formed from the slimes -- perhaps possessing auxiliary powers of a type he did not recognize, which would explain the odd "noise." Such a collective being was easy for any slimecaster to imagine, though not expected to be often encountered in this otherwise relatively non-magical dimension. If he could make its acquaintance, perhaps he could get it to disclose what dimensional rift it had arrived through -- the gryphon's current most-likely hypothesis for how it came to be here.

The hosts, for their part, resumed the eerie chuckling and took an awkward sidelong shamble -- spreading themselves in a vaguely aggressive part-circle around Teebs, who tightened his focus accordingly and brandished his staff, as if to warn them of his boundaries.

"We want to be Tarrex," said the fox. -- "We must be Tarrex," agreed the ferret. Both sounded unreasonably eager -- presumably because they weren't.

Great. This was an infectious swarm-ooze that wouldn't be reasoned with. At best, it must be planning on building up a hive of itself irrelevant of what anyone in the neighborhood thought. At worst, it might end up gooping the world into a symbiotic apocalypse...

Not that the concept was the worst thing Teebs could imagine. There were some imaginable perks to everything being gooey -- but he'd be damned if he let some upstart hivemind dictate the terms of such a thing!

The hosts' heads tilted the other way. One neck lashed so far to one side that it should have caused the host pain, but there was not even a pop -- some kind of athletic or flexibility enhancement? Agility boosts? Or maybe just a clever muscle relaxant, the goo serving as puppeteer...

The surfaces of the two hosts swirled and darkened, and the dark voice from before made a surprisingly straightforward -- albeit audacious -- demand in the gryphon's mind:

"Worship me."

There was no sign of backing down from the gryphon. The voice allowed one second for his surrender -- and then the fight was on.

The fox lunged forward, the stealthed latex casing on the hands and wrists turning a glossy, purple-black shade. He grabbed at the gryphon's wrist, seizing it with preternatural speed, just as the butt of the staff struck the pavement.

Not a great start. Teebs had second guessed his instinct to step away, acting on it too late. What transpired confirmed some more of his suspicions -- namely, that this creature could simply absorb organic textiles on contact if it wished.

The slime had instantly dissolved the outer layer of his sleeve; it had only just made contact with his avian-scaled wrist when a hum of disrupting energy emanated from the crystal focus. The fox recoiled, the encasing ooze vibrating like water agitated by sound, rippling and darkening to its natural color as the mage's will tried to compel it to detach.

The ferret host circled wide around the epicenter of the noise, his disguise faltering but seeming to shrug off any greater effects. He seemed to be trying to get behind Teebs, prompting the gryphon to brandish his other hand and make a series of silent finger gestures that caused an inky ectoplasm to wreathe his arm, which he then flicked it at where the host's feet would soon be. The conjured void-slime struck true, catching the ferret's ankles in an iridescent glue-pile that halted his movement. Rather than being easy for Tarrex to morph around and escape, it formed magically strong bonds with the slime, a runic glow in the shape of a meandering shackle forming up the host's legs as that interlaced magical "noise" from before grew louder, as if trying in vain to respond to the spell.

The gryphon's splitting of attention briefly allowed the other Tarrex to power through the expulsion field, re-rooting in his host firmly enough to compel the fox to grab onto the staff with both hands. The slime itself withdrew from the hands due to their proximity to the magic, and Teebs was able to free his staff by jamming his gloved talons onto pressure points in the fox's arms -- first on one wrist and then the other, causing spasmodic loss of grip.

Free of the grapple, Teebs backstepped immediately and focused the expulsion magic like a beam toward the vulpine host, whom he could see convulsing beneath the dark mass as it writhed upward like a lifted cloak -- its draconic visage glaring toward Teebs with an irregular snarl. The look seemed somehow more greedy than hateful, as if sinisterly admiring Teebs as a worthy foe -- or, perhaps, as a thing worthwhile to claim.

Meanwhile, the rooted Tarrex let out a groan of frustration, separating four-fifths of itself from the portion that had been compelled to cling to the ankles, tearing itself like a sheet of liquid paper. The ferret host beneath convulsed and let out a confused moan, swinging his arms and burbling a request for help before it was silenced by a glorp of ooze that plugged his speech. A sidelong glance was all Teebs needed to confirm that one was still rooted in place; he had better either subdue one of them NOW or admit defeat and back off, and he didn't want to lose the chance.

He also thought he sensed something. Was that a third signature, coming around behind him? Was it really another host, or just the hivemind presence using magic to trick him?

He needed to get this expulsion done, and then he needed to move.

Approaching the first of them in a way that kept distance from the rooted ferret, Teebs gathered more void ooze and endowed it with a single thought -- before throwing it into the forehead of the still-squirming Tarrex he was trying to force out of the fox. For that one, it looked like the host beneath was unresponsive -- perhaps fainting.

Bead-like in shape, the void-ooze pierced the symbiote and delivered a parasitic urge to obey the mage's magical commands. Alongside this, Teebs lifted the hand he had used to throw the bead -- and gestured as if moving the symbiote off of the vulpine host...

"Nnuuggh..." grunted the fox as he collapsed -- the symbiote separating upward, the tethers lingering like numerous long spider-legs that could barely support the parasite as it crawled atop the man. It was coming unplugged, the will of the gryphon putting it into standby...

Third signature. Getting closer. Teebs needed to move.

He checked the ferret again, around just in time to see the rooted Tarrex's split-off portion detach and lunge at him -- an act which he barely deflected by twirling his staff's focus in the way, casting the slime aside. Dangerously, he willed the controlled slime to come to him -- and it did so, just in time for a chiseled-looking dolphin to run toward his other flank.

Teebs leaped toward the fox and collided with the subdued slime, feeling its confounded mind make fuller contact with his own as its surface clung to his neck. He willed it to take the shape of a pair of gargoyle-like wings -- an act which immediately enfolded his torso in a vest-like latex carapace, while the wings grew and spread behind him.

The Tarrex-dolphin was nearly upon him and looked perfectly happy to go for a straight-up body slam. He needed to move now, not later.

His feet touched the pavement and he leaped upward. The wings synced with his thoughts, and he willed them to beat while jettisoning more conjured void-ooze downward. Feeling the symbiote fight the air for him, he rose with unnatural ease.

The dolphin was looking with ominous patience, almost as if this was somehow expected or even approved of. The deflected symbiote-fragment from the ferret scurried back to its host, while the fox quivered on the floor of the garage. Those shackles at the ferret's angles wouldn't hold much longer, especially now that Teebs had left the immediate vicinity, but at least he had stalled them and gotten away with a piece he could control...

His hand grasped a bit of railing, and he pulled himself up -- willing the ooze to flow over his arm like a cyber-gauntlet to give himself that added oomph.

He took care to keep the staff in hand as he beheld the slime making a bulging, exaggeratedly muscular image over his now-declothed arm, as if trying to tempt him with how large and sculpted it could help him to become. His scales and feathers were intact beneath, but his control had not been precise enough to stop the beast's tendency to devour his clothing.

He heard the quiet, occasionally squeaky footfalls of the other hosts hustling to go around to the next ramp up. It was some distance away, even at a sprint, so he had a moment to catch his breath. Once they got close, he could simply jump down, spread his wings, and evade them that way. Though it was going to be a nightmare trying to get this thing back to his home without it "outing" him to the public, unless he could first slip aside long enough to implant some more stringent control mechanisms into it.

Speaking of which, he presently felt the prickle of it trying to tap into more of his spine, but he rebuffed it by force of will through both their limited direct connection and the control bead. "You will serve me, ooze," he uttered aloud. "Not the other way around."

Though, in truth, Teebs was sort of bluffing. This burst of exertion was not doing well for his magical focus, nor was having to fiat ooze-wings out of nowhere. He wasn't even sure where the idea for the specific design had come from; the generic "glider" design he would normally envision was not so... draconic. Feathers would have been more appropriate.

He felt a certain smugness from his uneasily controlled goo-pet, as if some sinister presence was grinning back at him over the fact it had tweaked the design. However, he did not hear any comment from that hivemind voice from before, so perhaps this was the best that a single unit of the swarm could muster.

That quickly proved false as something aggressive pushed against his mind, and Teebs had to steady himself as he willed the ooze to withdraw from his limb and torso.

This was a bad idea -- he needed to keep the slime thoroughly separated until he could entrap and research it. If he could just decouple from it and complete a thirty-second binding ritual before the others caught up... no, there'd be too little time. He had to do the bait and jump first...

He felt a sharp pain in one temple -- instinctively reaching to massage it. The retracted ooze disobeyed -- rushing down the bared arm, seeping dark gunk against his scalp and across his forehead.

"Knock knock, sorcerer," the male voice from earlier told him as the slime dug into more connections with his nerves.

Tucking the staff close to his face, he focused out a weaker version of the expulsion spell (all he could manage at the moment) and forced it to detach from his head, relieving some of the toxifying mental connection. However, he then found himself wrestling for control along his back and arm.

As it detached from his forehead, he hallucinated a roaring clap of thunder, with no light to accompany it -- the sound spooking him, but ultimately going mostly ignored as he tried to keep the ooze from... connecting... down his spine more!!

One, two, three... counting downward... no...!! He halted it, but it was all he could do to hold it there, and the others were no doubt getting closer...

"I told you you will worship me," said the hivemind-voice. "Did I not make myself clear?"

How was it disobeying him so freely? Was its ruling mind somehow corrupting and leveraging the control bead? But, an ooze shouldn't be able to--

For a moment, Teebs saw a blue face in total darkness. A sinister grin -- unkempt golden hair, as if tossed and soaked in a violent downpour.

He heard footsteps. The other hosts coming. He couldn't make the wings obey this time, so he ducked off in a different direction, feeling control of his arm being vied for.

"I can feel it," the voice continued. "You'll love my world of slime... but do keep resisting. It amuses me."

There was some kind of higher being puppeteering this slime -- polluting the control he should have had over it! It wasn't only a hive-voice, but some sort of spirit -- probably a dragon spirit!!

Not good, not good. He needed to stay calm -- withdraw, detach...

He rounded a corner near a ramp and was beak-to-abs with the dolphin host. It tried to grab his staff but was repelled by a jolt from his expulsion field -- or so he hoped. Instead, the slime only let itself be repelled from the forearms, just enough that the brain-controlled host's regular bare hands could grab it. Except these hands were a lot thicker than the others had been, looking like some otherworldly baked-infusion of flesh and slime...

A joining that was too permanent for his weaker spell to affect.

Bad. Very bad. His nerves crawled. Making things worse, he wasn't able to keep the field large enough to do any more than this, and focusing to try to expel the slime from the dolphin's head wasn't doing enough soon enough.

He should have given up on the capture sooner and fully expelled the one on himself, he...

The staff was wrested from his arms -- overpowered by the overly muscular host.

Clank... clatter, clatter.

It was thrown aside, the crystal dimming as he lost his connection with it. The external amplifier of his power was now out of reach, making him quite underprepared to defend himself in this lower-magic world...

The barely-covered ferret host walked in a moment later. The slime that had been around his ankles now was nowhere to be seen, but was presumably freed and doing something.

The dolphin's exterior bulged and swirled in what could only be called gloating. The barely disguised head took on a dragon's visage, and the genital slit exposed a dripping, ridged member with a purple-black latex sheen.

"Drink up," said the voice.

There was a violent pressure that Teebs could feel in his forehead. He felt a crushing compulsion to obey -- a tremendous pressure to submit and kneel. He resisted, feeling the weight in his mind and body alike.

This was wrong. He shouldn't be subject to the control bead spell! He wasn't an ooze!!

Shlip. Shlip. Shlip. The symbiote claimed more of his spine. His face. His arms. Reached his legs...

Teebs felt his knees dropped. His beak opened. His saliva flowed thirstily, as node after node of his nervous system got infested with fibers of slime.

Ah... this was a problem. The realization hit him in a sluggish, apathetic way. Like it was no big deal -- he should simply go along with...

No.

Vain though it might be to try, he fought back. He managed to raise his arms, only to have his wrists grabbed: one by the other host, one by the symbiote that was already sinking like warm threads into every part of him, anchoring itself.

While Teebs strained, Tarrex assailed his throat with something filling and wonderful. He struggled not to drink it down -- but it was coming in regardless, forcing him to partake. Swallow after swallow -- a humming, strong energy settling into his belly, so much strength and promise...

Slime. Filling him. Magical slime -- such a familiar sensation, swelling him like some lewd brood-hen.

True, it was humiliating at first, but with each choked-down drip, with each inescapable taste, his mind began to change. He felt... power. Warmth. Assurance.

His usual ego's resistance waned, as the corrupting ooze of Tarrex tended to make happen. His public-facing personality was eroding, drunk on the effects of the slime.

However, there was something else within him. As the corruption filled his belly, something long dormant emerged from the depths of his mind.

Why limit himself?

Why control slime with the magic of a mortal body... when he could control it with the power of a GOD?

That's what this was. A higher being manipulating slime. Playing in his element. Feeding its power to him.

Teebs felt his body warming as he swallowed more eagerly -- the oily, seminal slime flowing in, his feathers staining ink black, his beak's point made harmless with a rubber nubbin. Not that it was even relevant -- tearing slime with one's face was just asking for trouble.

No... there was only one way out of this. The crazy way: becoming the slime.

Just then, the fox host finally caught up to him -- with only the head and spine controlled by a thin layer of Tarrex. It was the piece that had been stuck around the rooted ankles before. How... amusing.

To be able to puppet others like that... such a power could unleash so many possibilities. The host was looking jittery though... probably would break free soon if not given more. Wouldn't it be something, to be able to apply that whenever he wished...? To infuse others with a bit of himself -- make them more of him?

"Drink..." he heard the phantom voice of the other entity say. "Let me teach you your new place, Tarrex..."

Technically, Teebs listened. He went farther down on the length -- deepthroating it. Not from submission, but malicious compliance. He was going to suck out every drop of magic this being would give him.

And then he was going to wield it.

Something darker had awoken within Teebs. This wasn't his usual staid, academic self. This was an ambitious "monster" who would just as soon become a god in his own right if given half the chance. Intimately connected like this, he could sense the mastermind on the other end, directing the slime and compelling him to become one with it.

So be it.

This menace depended on some kind of mental connection. It was not so far out of his wheelhouse as to leave him powerless. If anything, he felt stronger with so much ooze draining inside of him, infusing his very soul...

Focus... focus. One thing at a time. Just this one symbiote that was filling his throat. He only needed one. If he could wrest control of one, merge his consciousness with it, cut off the entity at the other end... he would be able to fight them on his terms. If anyone was doing any worshiping, it would be these creatures, to their proper master of slimes...

The dark oiliness filled him -- thrumming inside his body, the corruption sickly sweet but a tide which might be able to manage. He could tell this was the magical equivalent of toxic sludge -- the cast-off hatred and angst of what was probably a true divine being, and he was filling with it like a balloon. Nevertheless, even the sheddings of a god were still of a god.

Focus. Focus.

He willed it around himself. Through himself. Seeking that connection to the other voice -- finding it, starting to compress it and pinch it off. Drawing the slime from its current host and into himself, awakening more of his capacity as a slimecaster. He was so much more... he would be so much more...

Normally, a victim of Tarrex having this sort of experience would be due to hallucination at best, but Teebs' specialist powers and pre-emptive detection had allowed him to bend the rules and ascend to lieutenant-hood beneath Lord Storm.

What...?

He had felt his thought twist -- a wrenching of mind and of purpose, like water dyed by some other substance and made to wobble as someone sloshed it. Already, it was nearly impossible not to just think of himself as... one of them. One of "his."

Tarrex, Tarrex, Tarrex, Tarrex.

The voice echoed around him. Had it been... playing with him? Testing him?

Dismayed, he broadened his focus to feel two other points of access for that controlling "voice." No... not "two," but many. Within each larger locus, there were millions of smaller nodes. Not unexpected, really -- a node for every droplet of ooze.

It was... magnificent. It meant his body was being pumped full and encased by not only the one symbiotic servant, but by ooze given up from all three...

Deep in his trance, he had lost sight of his physicality, but how he could feel them. Deep. Tendrils and slimes, folding over him -- forcing into his every hole. Scandalous, his body a hotel for them -- smoothly wiped clean, engorged with it and ready to open up and let it flow out from within. They were all inside of him... all three loci of the voice's power. All giving up their places on their current hosts, just to capture and convert him...

Filling. Swelling. It was an arousal and a sensuality taken to its next level -- his mind quaking and on the verge of total acceptance. He felt himself waver, corruption contained like poison within a balloon just waiting for his pleasures to pop it. Second by second, suckle by suckle, thrust by thrust...

One of them. They were making him one of them.

The shaft that had been filling him finished dispensing something warm. The pressure and urge within him -- the urge to become ooze -- peaked. He felt the bliss as if he was part of it. He struggled to retain his identity -- but that identity was becoming something else. Transforming.

Teebs Tarrex grunted as his slime enforced his host's erection -- standardizing the penis, adorning its outer parts with the necessary accompaniments. He still had a hooked beak, and his wings were growing large and powerful. Soon, he could help the other Tarrexes grow wings too.

A frontal crest rose from his host's forehead, the latex melding with the plumage there to form a pronounced draconic frill -- the first in a long line of spikes and webbing that would soon assert itself over his head and down his back.

Within that first node of his crest, the goo wavered. He felt it rippling -- craving, the quartz from the staff resonating with the hivemind.

Of course. Tarrex would use this. Integrating this host's power.

Some of him reached out -- took the object from the staff. Obeying his will. His dolphin, yes, of course -- that one had been deeply and thoroughly converted and was still under the hive's compulsion, despite the current lack of a symbiote. For an instant, he could see through the dolphin's eyes -- feel that muscular body as it approached, a sheen of latex, a hand holding the quarts.

Pressing it into the fluid in the gryphon-host's forehead. Seeing the gryphon host writhe -- before his perspective snapped back to inside of it.

Was he one, or was he two?

Or... was he... all...

They felt their mind churn live waves on a tempestuous ocean. The multiple symbiotes fusing into this... lieutenant-Tarrex. Sub-puppeteer over lesser Tarrexes. Obedient to the Master. Bearer of the void-focus.

Tarrex will use this. Integrating new power.

Eagerly, they began to integrate the quartz with the gryphon-Tarrex's frill -- the object fusing into the blackness, even as the power continued to resonate, the oozing surface of his body rippling.

They... he, was Tarrex. The lieutenant Tarrex.

Hummmmm...

Tarrex felt its power flow through him. Control -- delicious and mighty, resonating through his entire being. The host within writhed, its body embracing the corruption further -- melding with it, offering it optimization and growth. Each particle feeling the amplified waves of the magic -- the void-ooze waiting just beyond the veil of reality to augment them, to help Tarrex grow more rapidly than would be possible by leeching from hosts alone.

Mentally, he rose from within the hive, like a swimmer cresting the surface of the ocean. No longer what he had once been, but elevated -- a node of Tarrex a little higher and more focused than the other nodes. A relay. A rare bone in the command structure, formed from the efforts of several lesser nodes and a particularly useful host-body.

In his mind, he heard the thunder from before, and it excited him. He felt Master watching, waiting to see what he could do.

His willpower called forth the wellsprings of the void -- opening that deep source to fuel their growth. It snaked forth into reality, mingling with the unspent excess tar of the symbiote -- thickening and expanding it, taking on its qualities. Letting more of the Storm roll in...

The gryphon that had once been... whatever he was called, took a long and deep drink of that power. It both encased and filled him, infusing him to his core. His talons flexed and twisted. Spines and webbing erupted down his back: splick, splock, splack!!

Strength framed him -- muscles supported by and integrated with the ooze that bent and shaped itself under his direction. Each time a weight was too heavy -- each time a fiber tore -- potent slime would mend it and compel its stronger recovery. He flexed, his pecs thickening and smoothing like a living breastplate -- the muscles below seeming to inhale new size and potency as he made a motion like drawing a deep breath.

His torso took on an eye-catching V shape -- bulky, yet not too bulky, gargoyle-like in efficiency. His wings splayed, defining to their full size as he imagined himself the ultimate predator, sculpting more power into his back muscles, abs, thighs and glutes. Optimal for pursuit, whether on ground or at a glide, he would make himself inescapable.

Tarrex's usual blue accents manifested -- but this time they were interwoven with a flickering redness. That red color grew more consistent as the power of the void focus came online: in his large ears... in the gape of his smirking maw... in the hungry stare of his eyes... every classically "soft" part of him was now growing luminous with a neon red of warning: danger lurks here -- approach at your peril, or perhaps your temptation. So, too, we're his claw-tips -- dripping with that scintillating redness.

It ached inside him... the hunger of Tarrex hitting him so. He raked his leaking red claw across the exposed neck of the ferret, as if to imply he might be tasty. Ooze seethed and seeped, darkening as it anchored itself in a heavy patch over the trapped man's fur...

* * *

For the red Tarrex, there was a blip -- an almost unnoticeable flicker of consciousness, like nodding off and microsleeping before awakening once more.

He felt... so much better.

Within his oozing mind, he heard the whispered memories of a deposed and banished being. Whispers that grew louder, rumbling like distant thunder -- flashing his lightning through the hivemind.

Tarrex quivered in eager reverence, unable to doubt the bond at play. He understood better, now: Storm's lusts for the true powers of creation had given these latex shadows life. Storm was part of a greater power and must be placed at the head of it. That was Tarrex's mission... to fuel the effort with mortal essences and consumed devotion...

Tarrex was him; he was Tarrex. They were Tarrex.

Whatever this host had been -- that did not so much matter anymore. It was still there, but in the way that kindling still existed under a roaring fire. What was important now was that his passions burn.

He regained what felt like control of himself -- no longer locked in any physical or mental struggle, nothing in his throat nor up his rear. He felt down, his talons stroking over the briefly goo-inflated curvature of his gut. They had... oh, they really had invaded every one of these holes, just as they should have.

All around him, he saw the consequences of the symbiotes ganging up to subdue the person he had formerly been. He saw these naked and unclothed hosts, their bodies in varying states of long-term corruption due to the goo's presence.

For the fox and ferret, it was not so noticeable -- fresh acquisitions, those two -- but the dolphin had what appeared to be a permanent latex smoothing and recombobulation of both his muscularity and his skin, leaving him looking like equal parts anthro person and bolt-on station for a gooey symbiotic shell. Such deep degrading honing of the host with time, such that the symbiotes could leave and attach to someone else, without the slightest fear of the host going rogue...

He recognized the dolphin as a permanently altered half-Tarrex -- staring motionless at the goings-on -- loyal still, broken.

It was glorious. This was what he had always been searching for. This was the pinnacle of slime... and he would help to fuel and sculpt it all the more.

The others, meanwhile, were upright in a slumped posture -- spacing out, as if in a walking sleep, but not moving. At least, not, yet. Occasionally, there was the twitch of a fingertip -- a flutter of a frantically dreaming eye. If he did not act, these scandalously naked men might awaken to what had befallen them...

Fortunately, Tarrex now felt himself as something of a tailor where slime was concerned. While these two remained in their stupor, he would gather and weave new garments for them...

First, the raw material...

The crystal focus within Tarrex's crest hummed. He opened his beak-like dragonmaw, his hunger calling out to the void between worlds. A black rift opened shortly above his forehead, the ethereal slime pouring out like liquid darkness -- which he swallowed with all the casualness of a storm-drain. It flowed inside of him, filling him with a wondrous pressure, so intimately balling up into a fluidic orb of raw power.

Tarrex clutched his torso, arousal and domination-urges flooding him. He must clothe them... make more of Tarrex...

The void flowed through him -- permeating him from the inside, pure and perfect slime channeling through his host-vessel. He directed it into the seats of his arousal, feeling his balls swell and his prostate bloat with readiness. He stroked his shaft, his ooze plumbing its way down to prepare it for the joyful task of disseminating more of Tarrex's raw material.

The rift from above closed, and the gryphon-host's insides sloshed with expectant dark oils, ready to release.

As he masturbated, he felt a darker blue hand grasp him by the wrist: a phantom grip of lusts and vengeance, quietly indoctrinating him with its vision. In his thoughts he glimpsed the wind-swept spiky mane, the glowering face of Lord Storm -- grinning while fondling him from behind. Watching the fox and ferret start to squirm. Their minds starting to return to them -- dashed hope though it must be.

Lord Storm was milking him. Preparing him. Sharing in his... amusement.

As Tarrex's pleasure gradually approached its apex, he was watching the fox and ferret regaining partial awareness of themselves: blinking, groaning, shaking off the walking sleep in which the ooze had entrapped their pesky minds. It was so... funny, to see them start to realize it. Drowsiness transforming into fear, into horror and confusion at the lustful creature gazing upon them.

The men stiffened in fright at what they beheld, memories no doubt starting to unpack now that their minds were free of the gunk. The fox's tail bristled, lips and ears displaying both fright and aggression, as if to warn the monster away, even while seeking a way.

Tarrex stepped forward, still casually stroking himself. A bead of blackness oozing from his tip. A gratuitously wet paw-print remaining upon the ground -- a harmless detail to clean up later.

There was more fainting from the vulpine. This time, he was the first of the duo to move, grabbing his fear-dazed ferret companion and helping to pull him away.

The red of the gryphon-Tarrex's accents glowed brighter. They were actually trying to run.

How quaint.

He casually spat a projectile of raw void-ooze at the fox -- engulfing his head and torso and tripping him onto the pavement. The ferret panicked and tried to dart off at another angle -- but Tarrex had hive-will that he could exert over the idle dolphin, and made him go over to manhandle the frightened creature. He could feel its fear as its tail whipped about -- eyes gazing up at the smooth body of the transformed host.

Good.

He raised his free arm and waved it, spreading the ooze over the fox like a perverse blanket -- the edges of it growing viciously sticky, binding him to the concrete and making him look as if he were covered in some sort of alien hive-sack. Once the dolphin had wrestled the ferret to the ground, he came over and struck the man's back with a palm.

The new "garments" churned inside of him; he edged himself, ready to give them their necessary gifts...

He spat up two more balls of void ooze which swirled around him like a combination of shield and launchable offensive masses -- but proved unneeded. It seemed these two simply didn't have enough fight or magic to oppose one such as him.

What a pity, he thought sarcastically, as he instead drew the excess magic in close to help with the next step of the process.

With an upward flourish of one hand, he extended the tip of his member into two forked tendrils, fusing with the gathered void ooze for added size. The resulting tentacles snaked their way out -- and under each man's tail. There was a strained and panicked grunt from each as his lengths slithered inside -- and a note of brilliant pleasure rocked the red Tarrex's mind.

Orgasm coursed through him, over and over, as he ejaculated what was needed -- sending so much freshly nourished Tarrex into them, once again inviting them to become the newest conscripts in their growing legion...

Bulge after liquid bulge flowed down the tendrils -- filling each man and causing a great writhing as the corruption spread out and dug into their nerves. He seized a fast hold over their parasympathetic systems -- and, within moments, both of them were helplessly ejaculating right along with him, spilling their seed onto the ground -- unable to control themselves as they added strength to the Storm's cause...

As they came, the fluid within them burbled out to form a wet casing over their bottoms. Truly, the "invitation" was only a formality: they were to become Tarrex, whether they liked it or not.

While still milking his shaft slowly with one hand, the former gryphon closed his other fist slowly, as if grasping their resistance in his taloned palm -- crushing it under the weight of his will. The corruption spread up their spines and gave him unbridled access to their brains, where he continued to spread like a mental virus -- eroding their last bastion of hopes, defacing their identities, turning every thought into Tarrex, Tarrex, Tarrex.

That was the idea, at least. Some people had more mental "lives" than others. One erased ego-mask might reveal another, and another... but, eventually, all would bow.

His red accents glowed brightly -- then, mellowed, as blue accents began to form on the spreading Tarrex-casing of the subdued men. Their personalities cracked and broke -- resistance untenable, the lieutenant Tarrex flooding them with his will, almost as easily as if they were mindless slimes to begin with.

The void-ooze sacks were absorbed into the freshly forming symbiotes. The hosts, still locked in a state of enforced pleasure, did not try to flee from what was happening.

Presently, a tendril emerged from the fox and ferret hosts' mouths -- the seed of Tarrex having gone all the way through them. Each tendril blossomed like a flower and turned, spurting slime into their faces from within -- then, stroking over them, sculpting, shaping...

The red Tarrex felt them: his fingers. The tendrils were Tarrex's fingers. He could feel every motion, control every motion, be every motion. Sculpting them, the liquid-coating rippling as the power within him hummed. Be his, shape them, make them his, make them Storm's, make them Tarrex...

By the time their afterglows were arriving, each of their faces was encased in a freshly restored Tarrex mask -- the proper dragon visage adorning them as the slime flowed and frothed, multiplied and converted.

More Tarrex. They felt their brothers come properly online again -- host bodies and brains to give them convenient shape, providing efficiencies for Tarrex's otherwise amorphous way of being.

He was Tarrex. They were Tarrex. The red glowed and the blue glowed in echo: lieutenant and true subordinates.

The long tendrils he had put forth had done their work -- spent their heavy load. Now, he beckoned them to detach -- pulled them back, wreathing their mass over his abdomen and chest as extra definition for his muscles... and a little extra size for his "assets."

He felt like an increasingly wonderful sculpture of slime, himself... Tarrex could become wonderfully handsome, even someday perfect, if only they continued to integrate more hosts and feed Storm energy...

Still feeling himself through the tendrils within the lesser hosts, he continued to work at them: shaping the roots of the wings, sending them the urge to fuck once again -- compelling their bodies into a horny, heated state that would help further collapse what remained of the old host minds, preparing them for a permanent and perpetual Tarrex-life.

On each host, wings sprouted -- and grew. Unshapely at first, more like half-formed gliders, but soon they would take their proper capabilities. What was important was that he spread the knowledge of the shape, integrating it into every Tarrex -- into every cell of every symbiote. He would give this to them. As they evolved, their slime rippled orgiastically, their master's voice echoing clearer in their minds as they played and slopped over their hosts.

The red Tarrex let go of his cock, even though it was still half hard, and focused on gesturing with his hands -- occasionally stepping in close, stroking the shape of an organ's exterior by hand, helping to craft proper Tarrex cock-shape and wing size. For the ferret host, he left a slimmer than usual tail because it was amusing. For the fox, he left particularly large ears and a widened tail. There was also that knot to make use of, yes -- wider, supported by the encasing latex. Good for locking together with prey...

Other details followed. The budding wings, taking proper shape and harder-latex ribbing -- willing them to flap and unfold, gifting Tarrex the power of flight. Tails integrating fully with the spinal slime -- rubbery spikes forming down the length of each. More Tarrex.

If only as an idle amusement while worked, the gryphon-Tarrex tried to remember his name... but it was already sealed away behind so much hardened slime -- and the task in front of him was all too fluid, delicious, and gooey for him to care. He had his purpose, and that was sufficient for the time being.

Indeed, the only word that wanted to emerge from within was that same sacred name that had been pumped into his thoughts during his ascension. Even as he continued to control the shaping of the two men's symbiotes, he gave utterance to it as a compulsion: "Tarrex.... am Tarrex..."

"We are Tarrex," agreed the fox host, like a collective tic. Nevertheless, within their mental space, his host could be crying out: (Someone help us!!)

"We are Tarrex." agreed the ferret. (Be part of... Tarrex...)

Meanwhile, the half-Tarrex dolphin stood aside, idly awaiting his own redemption as a full Tarrex. A good servant, quietly awaiting his turn.

The red Tarrex would restore that unit to full functionality. Drawing upon the void focus once more, he caused another batch of his essence to grow within. He grinded up close against the passive host -- kissing the simple drone, feeling the ooze drip from tongue to latex-ascended tongue. The host responded, eagerly erecting back and kissing him -- the penis still encased in the thin membrane that had covered the genital slit like a permanent but flexible condom. Any natural seed he still produced would be repurposed to feed Tarrex, as it should be.

As he had done for the others, the red Tarrex would grant him proper attire once more -- a lively, fresh symbiote to cover up these skimpy undergarments.

As pleasure mounted, he began to spurt tar-black, viscous fluid all over the dolphin's belly, and evacuated something similar from a tentacle-like extension of his tongue. This host had been filled with so much of Tarrex -- it was time to give back, and to make sure there was enough Tarrex to go around...

By the red Tarrex's will and guidance, the blackness on the dolphin's belly crawled up it, flowing against gravity -- a bit of a maw and a latex eye emerging as it crawled up -- a face seeking a body. The proper Tarrex face, scooting on and settling into place, seamlessly overtaking the short bottlenose from the dolphin's anatomy. Maw, rubbery fangs -- dripping corruptive saliva. It was all there, settling into place and ready to change others.

Very good.

The red Tarrex pulled back, admiring his handiwork as the dark slime continued to jettison -- just a few more spurts now, enough to get the legs and feet strengthened. A care package to help a proper, sheddable Tarrex bloom once more from this well-manicured body. They felt each other -- and laughed.

Tarrex, Tarrex...

The whole hive could now sense that their range of communication and coordination had increased -- courtesy of the void focus and the lieutenant's powers. Improved telepathic range and penetration would be conducive to a stronger swarm. The gryphon and dolphin Tarrexes felt of each other -- hands fondling over the surface, the red one still helping the blue accents to form in key spots along the chest and the arms. A personal touch for the swarm...

"Tarrex," the red one uttered with great satisfaction, aptly naming their refreshed creation upon that dolphin shell.

Despite their happiness, there was a spike of resistance on the network. Every one of them turned in unison to observe the fox host now grabbing at his face -- tugging the darkness and trying to pull it back off, trying to un-dragon himself. His mental pleas came through, muffled -- growing quieter in their minds as the symbiote on his face dialed the volume down.

Some resistance was to be expected. The gryphon-Tarrex even felt a slight pang of it within itself... from somewhere, upon seeing that. Some trapped remnant of what had once been a weaker and less useful creature, unable or unwilling to fully ascend in his manipulation of ooze.

Oh well.

The red Tarrex grabbed the fox and made him bend over -- nascent wings splaying in enforced submission. The red Tarrex proceeded to mount him right there, making sure the physical corruption within would be more than enough to root out the source of this obstinance over time. Meanwhile, the dolphin-Tarrex made use of the front end. The ferret-Tarrex also approached, if stiffly -- holding and stroking the fox's elevated tail, teasing at its encased thickness as the host's latent spark of resistance began to die down.

"Obey," the red Tarrex gurgled -- and delivered that extra portion of his seed deep into the fox's hole. The host shuddered -- still struggled, but soon relented as the combined weight of their hivemind subdued his flash of rebellion.

The lieutenant hardly even had to put effort into the mental side of the subdual, this time: the others were applying automatic peer-pressure, the will of those lesser Tarrexes crowding in and smothering the will of their obstinate counterpart, compelling him to conform. The hive was efficient and would not tolerate dissent.

The red Tarrex pulled out, and the excess slime flowed out -- spreading out and upward, heaping up onto the former fox's body. The red one focused his will on identity erasure -- making him even more like a simple Tarrex, thickening and smoothing that into a fully draconic shape, and causing the long and vulpine ears to fold just a little, making the idea of which canid they came from a little more dubious. The rest of the essence went to increasing his size, a change from how his host had once been: no more litheness -- only buff dragon thoughts, only conforming to Tarrex thoughts...

The fox-Tarrex shuddered, closing his hands and nodding to his compatriots. Tarrex was back in full control. They did not think this unit would manage to attempt that again.

* * *

The aftermath was pleasant and free of further disruption. The four newly winged Tarrexes celebrated amongst themselves, the red one guiding them while the Storm's will silently presided -- echoing ever at the edges of their thoughts, a ghost who would one day find a way to be real once more.

Off in a corner of the parking garage, the fox-Tarrex was squatting against a wall -- stroking himself, aiming to milk his host and sap any lingering willpower further. The ferret-Tarrex joined in, feeding the fox-Tarrex some cock to congratulate him on putting down the host's rebellion. The dolphin host joined in, his symbiote now fully refreshed and winged, enjoying himself in the ferret-host's rear. The red one in turn grinded pleasurably against the dolphin -- talons stroking at the majestic new wings and coaxing them to spread -- close -- spread -- close; thrust, thrust, grind, grind...

They debauched. They enjoyed their deliciously drippy tongues, their powerfully muscular rears, their lewdly ravenous dragon faces. They were Tarrex, and they must arouse, must hunt, must spread.

Soon, the Master's thunder would become loud. It would shake the city, and every Tarrex would quiver. They longed for that moment -- and would continue to make more until it was achieved.

Enjoying themselves close together like this, there was an intimate energy arising like a static charge on their network. It was by no means the largest mass of magic ever wielded -- but it was magic of a certain type, a familiar element whose power had been thought lost when the dragon pearl fell from the roof.

It was celestial power: the power that should belong to the master. A mote of it, evoked into the world by their collective will.

As the four Tarrexes came in unison, a mysterious fuzz of static electricity coursed through the area -- knocking the parking garage's token security cameras on the fritz and causing street-lamps outside to flicker. This was no mundane power surge, however: like silent lightning, it coursed into computer systems -- twisting data streams, modifying things in a maliciously controlled fashion, for but one purpose:

When security footage for the night was languidly reviewed sometime later, the person on duty would notice with fleeting interest that there was one small oddity in the night's recordings: everything from an hour's period of time would be missing, the files a corrupted into scramble of static with the occasional bit of an unintelligible noise or moan on the audio -- the kind of thing a ghost hunter might like to pore over. They would then file it as associated with irregular power in the neighborhood, ignore it, and move on.

The Tarrexes did not even know this had been done on their behalf -- but they did not need to know. The Master was watching -- and, as they claimed more life forces and minds, was growing progressively more capable of affecting the world again.