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Denslin University was located roughly three miles from the nearest form of human civilization. It wasn't quite secluded in the tree-packed valleys of the upper northwest, but it was most certainly firmly nestled and not planning to go anywhere anytime soon. There was a student center/main hall with cafeteria, a gymnasium/laboratory facility, a dedicated classrooms structure, and two dormitories which were divided by sex.

Being a modest university, it eschewed the sprawling campuses favored by many institutions (the previous dean was known to throw about the term "tourist campuses" to describe the more sizable and lavish higher-education places). As such, tuition was by and large cheaper, though being sealed into the immediate area by way of severe weather for two-thirds of the calendar year was what kept the number of bodies below two thousand. Generally the number of students never climbed above nine hundred, with the last six hundred souls being the professors and general faculty members and service workers.

Travis and Bart were in their dorm, one of the first wave of students to return towards the end of the winter break. Outside their buildings, everything was white, the snow storm that had drenched the region last week still fresh in everyone's eyes. Travis didn't mind, and in fact loved the snow, the young Puerto Rican having grown up all the way down in Florida. Conversely, Bart was from New York, near Buffalo, and the fair-skinned lad had seen his fair share of frozen water.

"Two days without the profs to chastise us for lounging about not doing homework," Bart laughed. "And we don't even have to factor in travel time. I should have enrolled in college sooner."

Travis only shook his head and kept unpacking the last of his private reading books. It was a critically necessary component to combat the scheduled deluges of academic texts, the worst of all being assigned readings for literature-focused courses (though he thanked his lucky stars that he'd never ended up in any of those classes, focusing on sports medicine; Bart was getting a major in journalism). The dark-haired young man found it better to unwind his mind with tales of fantasy than to unwind his body, given his subject of study and all.

"Want to hit up the cafeteria for dinner, or are we hitching a ride into town with friends?" Bart asked.

Sliding the last of his novels into place, the other man shrugged. "Honestly, either one, I don't mind. We're on a meal plan, so we might as well get a bite to eat off the school menu; not like everything they serve is gruel."

"Bar none, they have the absolute worst quiche I have ever touched," Bart grumbled.

Travis laughed. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"

A knock on their door pulled their attention from their stomachs to other matters. Standing in the doorway was Adam, a young black man who was more often found as a "heads up, the RA is doing his rounds" kind of guy than the student-athlete he was, playing as a reserve running back for the university's football team.

"You two about settled in?" he asked. "It's gonna be dark out soon, looks like."

Travis frowned, turning to look out the window. Not half an hour before it had been pretty bright out, the sun's rays reflected and magnified off the endless snowbanks and white-drenched trees; now it looked as if a few hours had passed, the world seen through a soft purple lens.

"Huh," he grunted. "First day already wasted, how about that."

"No way," Bart disputed. He checked the time on his phone. "It's only 3:30! It's not supposed to get dark out this damn early!"

"So it's getting dark early," Travis shrugged. "So what? We still have tomorrow, and it's not like we're hitting the hay yet. Quit crying."

His friend clearly wanted to continue arguing, but wisely dropped the matter.

"Either way," Adam spoke, "RA will be snooping around the building starting early tomorrow, working his way up to the top. Means he'll only be spending a couples minutes tops in each room, so just tidy up with nothing obviously illegal and you'll be good."

Bart smiled falsely. "What would we do without your wisdom, oh helpful one?"

Adam smiled back as he flipped him off. "Oh, and you might want to do something about that jelly on your wall."

The other two looked at him, confused, and then turned to see what he was pointing at.

On the wall to the right of the window, three-quarters of the way to the glass portal, a trail of what indeed looked like strawberry jelly ran from a crack in the ceiling to down past the small dresser. It was maybe a hand's width, and half an inch deep, and Travis wondered how in the hell they'd missed it before now.

Bart approached, an expression of revulsion on his face.

"Get some wet rags, we need to get this off before we forget and it gets us black marks in the books," he told Travis.

"Just great," the Puerto Rican groaned, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. "And we gotta tell the guys on the floor above about this, since it's apparently coming from the space between."

"Shit!"

Both Adam and Travis snapped their attention to Bart, who had tested out the goop with his fingers. The experimental touch had resulted in the digits being somehow glued tight to the substance, and the more he fought, the more he pressed his hand against it, pinning the appendage to the wall, unable to get off.

"Get a goddamn crowbar!" he barked at the others.

Adam came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Bart's chest and bracing his foot against the wall.

"You're gonna rip my hand off!" the trapped man said.

"Shut up, and no, I'm not," growled the footballer.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed and pulled at once, and for a minute it seemed as if he'd actually break his friend free of the slime. Travis could have sworn he saw Bart's hand actually get away from the wall, a stretched-out tangle of whatever-it-was the only thing that joined human flesh to disgusting goo. An inch became several as Adam gave it all he had, slowly pulling the other student back more and more, Bart bracing his own foot against the wall to help with the struggle.

Just as they neared the half-foot mark, which both astonished and terrified Travis, the slime suddenly lashed out.

Tendrils shot out from the vertical streak of slime, only as thick as a man's thumb but strong enough to pack a wallop. One smacked into Adam's shoulder, just inside the joint, and he was sent reeling, his grip on Bart instantly lost. As the footballer crashed into the nightstand, the tendril that he struck him and the other two snaked around Bart's neck, ankle, and waist.

With a shout he was hauled up off his feet and twisted around like a child's toy to face the other two men before the tendrils pulled him back against the wall.

As they had hoisted him into the air, the entire wall the tendrils sprouted from seemed to crack and crumble to pieces. It wasn't that it fell forward onto the furniture and scattered everywhere, but rather that more of the purple slime broke through in an ever-spreading sea of hideous veins, the strange matter gushing out until it completely covered the wall. When Bart hit the wall, it was like colliding with a waterbed, a squelch as his backside made contact.

Held firm by the tendrils and by the incredible stickiness of the slime, he was unable to pull himself loose even so little as an inch. Gaping in confusion and terror, his friends could only watch as the tendrils swarmed over Bart. His cries of indignation were ignored as the tentacles tore off his clothes as though the polyester and denim were nothing more than paper, flinging them aside.

With their prey naked, the gelatinous vines swarmed over Bart. One lashed across his eyes and spread outwards, obscuring not only his vision but coating the upper half of his head in a layer that thickened until it was too opaque to see through, connecting to the wall to hold his head in place. More tendrils followed suit, coating and encasing his arms and legs until all that was left visible of the poor young man were his nose and mouth, torso, and crotch.

Looking at the sight had at first shocked and repulsed Travis, but the longer it went on, the more he could feel himself become strangely entranced by the bizarre--and bizarrely erotic--display.

Evidently Bart was similarly affected, his dick becoming hard, almost seeming to reach out to his friends for satisfaction, his protests turning into moans of pleasure.

Below him, a single, thick tentacle slithered up and outward, its tip swerving back quickly to press against the edge of his anal valley. As Adam and Travis stared, the appendage pushed firmly and entered their friend, whose groan of bliss and jerking, pre-drooling cock made it clear he was beyond help.

And then it got worse.

The bottom tentacle grew thicker as dark lumps as big as potatoes traveled along its length, entering Bart's rectum with a muted swallowing sound from below and mewling ecstasy from above. The longer it went on, the more his gut swelled, bulging out to resemble nothing so much as a pregnant woman's belly, round and heavy.

"Fucking run for it!" Adam yelled, grabbing the collar of the Hispanic man's shirt.

Jarred into action, Travis raced for the door, nearly stumbling and falling upon the wall as he tore past Bart; something tinged the air, something that made his heart pound and excitement rise, his pants threatening to become tented.

Once in the dorm hallway, Adam turned and grabbed the handle, slamming the portal shut and holding it there for a minute.

But whatever illusion of temporary safety was shattered, however, as a wave of sex-borne moans rolled through the air.

Turning their heads to the south end of the hall, they saw that over a third of the corridor had been transformed: the floor, walls, and ceiling was coated in a thick layer of the pink slime, completely overtaking the human furnishings and causing everything to resemble a horrifically erotic alien landscape.

Mounted upon the walls exactly as Bart had been were nearly a dozen students, all young men, their own bellies bloated fully, and though the tentacles stopped conveying matter into their asses, they did not stop lazily thrusting, stroking each time the men's prostates.

But the sight that commanded their attention the most was the bizarre figure making his way down the hall.

"Such pretty, pretty bodies you have now!" the creature gurgled, its voice somehow quite understandable.

It resembled a snake, with a long, muscled form, but it was gifted with man-like arms and a torso of the same ilk, its entire body composed of the pinkness. The creature did not bother to hide its dual erections, the tapered missiles of ebony spearing into the air at least six full inches, both of them steadily leaking their load. Its eyes, strangely, were not eyes, but empty sockets of pure shadow, and as he looked upon them Travis felt himself step forward just one pace, but he wanted to take another, to rub himself upon that freakish, sexy creature.

"Nice and fat!" the beast leered at the captive men on the walls, ignoring their moans as he admired their stomachs. "Going to give birth to lots of strong soldiers for Her Highness! The more I sire, the more favor I curry!" He reached out and lewdly groped one man's gut, serpentine muzzle contorting into a disturbing smile of lust and pride. "Become my breeding sows, and make the Engorger the most powerful of Her generals!"

The trapped man moaned, his hips jerking as best they could while stuck to the slime-wall, and his cock dribbled a steady stream of cum. The Engorger hissed, his tongue lashing out--

--And then his head snapped forward, his black-hole eyes aimed directly at Travis and Adam. He reared up, his height becoming even more impressive, his hemipenes quivering excitedly.

"Unseeded sows!" he said, his gurgling becoming greater as he eyed his future victims. "Fertile bellies for my offspring!"

Travis had tried to keep his eyes from meeting the creature's, but even looking at its body wasn't helping much: he still felt those strong waves of arousal, the need to submit and be bred under such a bizarre-yet-sensual being threatening to overwhelm him.

It's not real, he told himself desperately, struggling to run. You don't want this!

The pink slime naga surged towards the young men, fanged mouth yawning open. Despite his bodily composition, he moved with shocking swiftness, covering two-thirds of the distance between them in a scant few seconds. As he neared, he reared up in a lunge, ready to pounce.

The door to one of the dorms on the pair's right opened suddenly, a frantic student backing out. In one hand he wielded a lamp with a smashed head, the end coated with a thin layer of pink ooze.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he yelled at something in the room as he continued to back up.

But his escape from his room only worsened his fate.

The Engorger altered his course, his form twisting impossibly in mid-lunge. He seemed to move past the newcomer, but curved back to quickly encircle him. Hissing, he snapped his head forward and down, fangs out. They plunged into the human's gut, the pain and unexpectedness of the attack causing him to drop his impromptu weapon.

Withdrawing his fangs, the Engorger immediately opened his mouth again. A massive volume of slime was vomited all over the unfortunate student, so much that he was rendered immobile. Not an inch of him was exposed to the air, the liquid just translucent enough that one could see his clothes dissolving and his belly expanding.

The slime coating him shifted the entire time, flowing upwards nearly to the ceiling. It grew firm but not completely hard, the top mushrooming, and it became readily apparent what it resembled: a huge, slimy pink phallus with a pregnant man inside.

Again Adam took charge, grabbing Travis's upper arm. With the monster distracted by his latest conquest, the pair had a moment to turn and run to the stairs. It didn't matter that they couldn't bar the door, all that mattered was getting away.

Barging through, both men put their backs to the door in what they were sure was a futile gesture.

"Up, or down?" Travis panted. He was sweating, his body flush, a result of his brief exposure to the naga. Thank god he hadn't come into physical contact with it.

Adam opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a pleasure-wracked moan. Both turned to look up the stairs to the next landing. There, another man was on his knees. He was covered in the same way Bart had been, only his nose, mouth, chest, swollen stomach, and cock uncovered. The last was pointing right at them, and abruptly shot a jet of white towards Travis's face.

He dodged it, shoving Adam as the milk splattered on the door. "Down!"

They ran down several flights of stairs, not thinking to check any of the other levels' doors. They reached the bottommost door, yanking it open and entering only to realize that they'd gone past the first level and into the basement.

They also realized they were utterly fucked.

"Welcome, mortals."

The voice was deep, a commanding baritone that caused both of them to shudder even as it rooted them to the spot. Its owner was less than a hundred feet ahead of them. It was male, resembling a fantasy-standard beast of some kind, a bull's head where a man's should be above plates of polished black armor on the upper body, the lower bare save for a thong, its straps flat and narrow leather strips and its pouch resembling two joined plates of armor much like on its torso. The legs were bent backwards, a digitigrade stance, and showed off the muscles concealed by the armor, thick, corded muscles as if the being was a professional body builder. Its eyes were utterly black, save for the irises, which glowed a soft pink.

The tone of its flesh was deep pink, but seemed to be much more solid than the serpent-creature's, more akin to slabs of latex than sentient semi-liquid. Eyes wandering, Travis noticed that the pink minotaur's horns were not smooth and simple as a bull's were normally, but thick, sharply ribbed, and curved forward and then up, ending in fine points; they were as black as coal.

"The two of you would have been better off heading to the roof," the armored monster chided. "Granted, you would have ended up as incubation-hosts for the harpies' eggs, a marginal improvement over suffering that blithering dolt Engorger's attentions, but it would have been better than coming all the way down here."

They could not move, frozen in place by the mere presence of the unnatural creature, transfixed by his voice to do nothing. They could only gaze obediently at the towering creature of slime and plate.

As they stood there, shackled by the minotaur's presence, the basement continued its own transformation. Piping made of PVC became changed to black iron decorated with gold filigree. The water and fuel tanks bubbled as their contents were altered to more of the pink slime, pumped throughout the facility to cement the monsters' hold. The walls, made of concrete since the day the campus was first raised, darkened in clouds of black and white, becoming marble, and the floor underwent the same transformation.

"Hmm?" the minotaur rumbled. "You have something to say, perhaps?"

The presence that was wrapped about them like a heavy tarp lifted--not enough to move or flee, but just enough that they could pull their thoughts together and voice them.

"What...are you?" Travis asked, his voice a rough whisper; even with the force's relenting, this monster was an overwhelming being.

The creature chuckled, seemingly genuinely amused. "I was expecting 'who' before 'what,' but I will take what I can get. As are the Engorger, the harpies, and the wall-mounted, I am a demon. It doesn't matter if you believe in my kind or not, I assure you. My name is Harketh, though many know me as the Gorgon. The Engorger may be a commander equivalent to a general's rank, and he may seek the position, but his penchant for indulging in spur-of-the-moment acts will forever bar him from obtaining what he covets."

Pausing, Harketh smiled, and both humans felt their skin crawl. "I, however, have truly earned my place at Her Highness's hooves, serving her with steadfast devotion, intelligence, and uncompromising discipline." His smile broadened, showing his teeth. "Something you two are about to learn as you are turned into nothing more than our tools for this war."

"War?" Adam said, clearly straining to move, his muscles straining. "We haven't done anything to you!"

"Oh, I didn't say you had," chuckled the demon as he stalked closer to them. His presence increased again, just a fraction and just for a second, but it sent the humans to their knees. Travis felt unwanted surges of excitement flow through him the nearer the Gorgon got. "It's doubtful more than a tiny handful of the mortals on these grounds have anything to do with our target, but you're in our way, and we'd rather have you serve us than our enemies; they are more than willing to beat their unwitting shields into swords, you know."

Travis wanted to say something, yell at the demonic general how it he was guilty of the very thing he accused his enemies of, but the words would not come forth. Harketh reached them and stopped just ten feet away, a broad grin on his muzzle. He licked his lips and held out a hand, palm upturned.

Energy began to coalesce above his hand, a swirl of various shades and hues of pink pulled from thin air into a sphere the size of a cantaloupe, hovering there. It was like something out of a blockbuster film was a budget in the hundreds of millions, the humans able to make out small variations in the sphere's composition and the energy seemed to barely be held in check.

"Don't want the little darlings to slip away, hence this attractor," Harketh explained.

His attention shifted to the floor between him and his victims. Symbols began to appear, strange and glowing, and just looking at them made the hairs on Travis's body stand on end. Several concentric circles pierced by long straight lines directed towards the center framed the symbols, which the young man figured to be the demons' language. The drawing radiated a much darker shade of pink than any they'd witnessed so far, and both men were sure it could only mean ill for them.

Abruptly the glowing off the drawing dimmed, almost stopping completely for a single heartbeat before flaring to life. The light became bright enough to nearly blind the humans, and as they squeezed their eyes shut and turned their faces from it, they felt something happen. There was no sound to it, only the certainty of something powerful and wild rushing by, and then it was gone.

When they opened their eyes, Adam and Travis stared at the sphere in Harketh's grip. It was almost a textual form now, like a bizarre water balloon that bulged and writhed as what looked like insectile snakes moved within.

"As I said, you can be of use to my forces. These two adorable pets will elevate your meager bodies to be able to combat our enemies, and you will find yourselves enjoying it much more than you ever could imagine."

The sphere malformed, its sides swelling as its top sank. The bulges became tendrils, swiftly knifing through the air. Both men opened their mouths to scream and the tendrils seized the chance, plunging down their throats; it felt like swallowing syrup.

As the last of it forced its way inside of their bodies, the demon commander grunted in satisfaction.

"Try not to get carried away with your new bodies," he advised. "I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

***********************************

Dr. Bryce had been looking over the newest reports from Dr. Jung in Analysis when the alarms went off. He had just lifted a fresh cup of coffee to his lips, not even a drop of the hot liquid touching the tip of his tongue, when he was sent out of both shoes. The coffee splashed up his face and into his nostrils, causing a fit of obscenities to issue from his throat.

A minute later he was reasonably sorted out. Ten seconds after that he was scared.

The alarms only went off if a subject breached its containment unit, which Engineering had given every possible assurance would absolutely not happen; or if...

No! Bryce thought, a chill running through his body. He began racing down the corridor, desperate to reach his master control room.

The only other situation that could cause the alarms to go off was an attack, and an attack would mean the demons had found them.

How? How could they have located the facility? The company had the best tech in that world and they had shielded themselves with both their usual suites and the ignorance of the local populace, constructing the most advanced research center the world had ever known right under their noses.

It didn't matter: the enemy was here and now they had to fight them off. As Bryce shoved aside one of the minor assistants, shoving the man hard into the wall, he pushed himself to move faster. From the master control room, he'd be able to help coordinate the resistance, repel their assailants and summon reinforcements from corporate.

When he had reached the central lobby, the comms on the walls came on, Master Sergeant Trask's voice matching the alarms in volume and nearly making Bryce's ears bleed.

"All non-essential personnel, head to the designated safety zones immediately and remain there until further notice. All security forces are to execute Protocol Epsilon Delta Five." Just as Bryce reached the elevator and pressed the button, Trask paused and gave one final statement before signing off. "Good luck."

Bryce gulped; if the main appointed to lead the martial defense of the facility was throwing out such trivial encouragement, then the shit really had hit the fan.

The elevator opened up, a wide-eyed intern--Nielsen, as Bryce recalled--all but falling out.

"Dr. Bryce, what's going on?" the young man asked, his face pale from confusion and a rising level of fear. He clutched at the older scientist's clothes, which made his gut twist in disgust; Bryce had never liked physical contact, especially amongst colleagues. "Is it a fire?"

Scowling, the middle-aged man grabbed Nielsen and threw him aside, ignoring his inquiries utterly. Bryce jabbed at the button for the third floor, which was where Control was located, and then entered a separate code on the small numerical pad, preventing his trip from being interrupted; he needed to reach the command center as quickly as possible or they were all screwed.

When the doors opened, he nearly jumped out of his skin as a full baker's dozen worth of guns were aimed at him: Trask's personal detail clearly was on edge, and if he were even a tad bit less fortunate for their resolve in facing this threat, then he would have been blown to pieces.

"Dr. Bryce," Trask greeted, stepping out from behind one of the guards. "Good of you to make it without being compromised."

Bryce threw the other man a frown. The scientist was gaunt and clearly in his mid-forties, while Trask was just past fifty and stockier, and their personalities were as different as their looks: ever since Alpha Tech had established itself with a single high-grade laboratory, with Bryce as Executive Researcher, he'd butted heads with Trask over the presence of armed soldiers in the labs overseeing experiments and their invaluable data.

The soldiers never interfered by hand except to help with the rare broken beaker or sprained ankle or just doing polite things like getting coffee for everyone sometimes, and for all that Bryce was very grateful, but having unauthorized persons in any of the labs who could not only witness but see and hear the technical information on everything they were doing...it was unacceptable. They were not cleared for it, and so Bryce had insisted they maintain their posts on the exterior of the labs, called in only when strictly necessary; the integrity of the experiments, their purity, needed to be preserved or it would all be for nothing.

Naturally, Trask had acted to counter Bryce's requests for less military intrusion, citing how helpful his men had been, even using the scientist's own words to support his argument. He'd cited the risks of not having the security forces where they were, how if the impossible happened and something got loose, the difference of a door to pass through could mean the difference between life and death. They were playing with very dangerous forces, and that meant they could not take risks.

It was inevitable that Trask won that matter, and perhaps the closer presence of his troops had somehow made things just the little bit safer they needed to be to continue operating smoothly, but Bryce just didn't like it.

He privately admitted to himself that he didn't like Trask.

"No thanks to you," the researcher retorted as he stepped out of the lift, immediately entering a second code into the keypad below that hallway's call button. When the doors closed, the elevator became locked, unable to be called away, and it would need a third code to unlock it in case Bryce and Trask needed to escape. "You nearly shot me just now."

Trask grunted. "Wouldn't have made a difference, Doctor."

The other man bristled. "Oh really? And I suppose you know all of the codes to access the databanks so that we can take our findings with us?"

Before the officer could reply, one of his men put a hand to his helmet, receiving and relaying a message. "Sir, Periscope Team managed to get in a report before going silent. The enemy has completely consumed the university to bolster their foothold and forces."

Bryce gaped as Trask actually spat on the floor. "Waste of ammo for us. Tell all units to dig in and commend them for their service."

He turned to leave, but Bryce strode up, grabbing the sergeant's arm. "You can't do that! We need your men to form up around us so that we have enough shielding to download the lab's findings and escort us to the gate platform."

As he'd been speaking, the commander hadn't turned to face him, but when he did, Bryce felt a chill run through him.

"We aren't going to leave this facility, Dr. Bryce," Trask coldly informed him. He reached up, and with a grip stronger than it looked pried the man's hand away. "My orders are to protect this installation, and failing that to secure all scientific findings for corporate at the cost of my own life."

Bryce gaped at him. "And what about me? I'm the best damn researcher here; you can't just discard me like one of your cookie-cutter gun-nuts!"

Trask jabbed a finger into his peer's chest. "Yes, you're the best researcher here. Alpha Tech has more sites than this one, more guns than me, and more minds than you. You're expendable, Dr. Bryce, and it's a damn shame you never had the common sense to see it." He turned and made for the control room. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of data to evacuate. Feel free to pick up a gun and loan me an extra body for my defense."

Standing there, words absolutely failing him, Bryce felt like he'd been detached from the universe itself. He'd invested twenty-five years of his brilliance to the company, and Alpha Tech had reaped a good few rewards he'd sown, but the notion that he was just a person who'd given them something they'd wanted rather than the person was jarring.

For the first time in decades, the feeling that he was somehow worthless took root within his very identity.

To be continued...