#amorphous

You hate your job. You've somehow managed to land a position where your entire role and responsibility is trying to herd the stupidest motherfuckers in the world away from the precipice of making the stupidest possible decision possible multiple times a day. People praise the CEO for all the success and growth, every new milestone, every met SLA, every report showing KPIs are going up and driving revenues with them. What the reporters and the talking heads don't realise is just how much effort it takes to avoid him making a monumentally stupid decision and sinking the entire ship. Just last month he took to the all-hands and announced that over half of the company were totally superfluous to terms and could be replaced at a moment’s notice. Seemingly without realising how a company of three hundred people might be folded overnight if the mass exodus he was so convinced he could weather through sheer force of idiocy, “commitment” he called it, were to actually happen.

You sighed in your car. Either way, it's another day down. Just thirty five more years of this daily shitshow and you'd be able to retire. Hopefully. If you hadn't strangled him already. Or he'd do something insane like tease another round of “synergistic optimisations” which torpedo team morale for several weeks just so he can deliver a meeting that should have been an email.

And that was just your boss. Add on the daily grind of trying to manage a dozen or so nepo babies who call themselves your colleagues? You might as well bring in a selection of board games and tell them to have at it. At least the ping pong table in the break room keeps them out of trouble.

Your head hit the steering wheel, you gazed down at your lap, willing yourself to sit back up and turn on the ignition. The sooner you're gone, the sooner you're home. Then you can have a hot bath, and get in your fluffy dressing gown. That thought gave you just enough strength to lift your gaze.

A box sat on your car bonnet. It was small, a few inches on each side, a neat bow on top. When you got out to move it, you spotted a label. It was addressed to you, “for all your hard work” - it wasn't signed, nor did you recognise the handwriting, though that's not unusual because who really passes handwritten notes these days? You opened the lid, it was a fist-sized ball of lavender smelling powder, pressed neatly by some industrial process or other, wrapped in cellophane with the brand name emblazoned in a repeating pattern across it. You smiled. Finally, someone around here recognises your value here. It's not going to be enough to stop you filling out job applications, but it's enough to clear the stormclouds from your current mood.

The drive home was like any other. The radio playing an inoffensive mix of 80s and 90s pop interspersed with ads for such luxuries as double glazing, and sometimes the overly chirpy voice of the presenter cutting in to remind you that it was indeed a Friday, and thank God for that.

Your house was empty when you got in. Your husband was away for the weekend at a stag party for a friend you didn't know. Perfect opportunity for some you-time. First, the bath, then you’ll get some Chinese in. You've had the itch for some chow mein for days.

The bathwater was the perfect temperature, you'd run it nice and deep, more than enough to cover your whole body as you stood enjoying the warmth radiating off it. It was a struggle not to slip in right away, but you wanted to try out that new fizzer you'd been given. The cellophane slipped off, it was cool in your hand, already reacting slightly as the water clinging to your skin fizzed on its surface. You dropped it in.

It reacted like you'd expect. Purple spreading through the water in a great cloud. The fizzing of the bath salts drove a violent mixing from the ball itself, spread in the glittery water throughout the tub. By the time the broiling stopped, the room was full of a heavy herbal lavender smell. You breathed it in, feeling your shoulders relax a little already. Then you climbed over the rim of the bathtub, submerging yourself into the shimmering liquid. You sighed, the stress washing away in the warm water. You lay there in blessed silence, feeling the warmth suffuse through you. Occasionally, you'd raise an arm to rub at your shoulder or stretch out a particularly stubborn crick, but for the most part you simply lay there and relaxed.

The water was cooling down. You'd been in the bath for maybe an hour and a half? It was definitely starting to get dark outside, so you knew you didn't want to be in much longer. You still needed to shower off the glitter and purple dye.

Slight problem. The water felt… Stiff? It hadn't changed colour, but it was definitely thicker than you remember it being. You tried to pull yourself upright, but it resisted. When you just moved your hands, it was fine, same if all you were doing was kicking your legs, but as soon as you tried to stand up and get out of the water, it stopped you.

You couldn't get out. What if you tried to drain the bath?

The plug was by your toes, under the tap. One deft tug of the chain with your foot, and presto! It came free!

Ah. Another problem.

You couldn't hear the bath emptying. You couldn't feel it either. Whatever was making the water stay put around you when you tried to stand wasn't letting it drain out of the bath. Next was to try the tap. Maybe you'd be able to dilute whatever was causing the problem? Your foot fumbled with the handle, opening the valve and sending a jet of cold water into the slime. It pooled on top, refusing to mix with the purple, until a well opened up, channeling the stream down the drain.

Well fuck. That's definitely not good. Your phone was set on top of your clothes, in a neat pile a few feet away. There's no way you'd be able to reach that, not stuck as you are.

You sat. The slime was body-temperature, not getting any colder now, but still not warm. You watched as a tendril slid up, turning off the tap. Silence fell again.

Slowly, you became aware of it prodding at you. Gently at first, then more insistent. It probed up and down your body, testing the resistance of your skin, sliding its attention up and down you, searching for something. Until it found it.

You thrashed in the water as the pressure intensified over your cunt. It was still stopping you from getting out, you couldn't even splash it around, your arms moved through it as easily as water, but as soon as the surface tension would break, it snapped back, catching you in its clutches.

The pressure increased, forming itself into a thrusting mass. You whined as it tried to enter you, pushing your legs together to no avail as the formless ooze gained substance to resist you. You tried one last time to cover yourself, clamping a hand over your entrance to curtail the attempt. It didn't work. The ooze simply flowed between your fingers, solidifying on the other side.

It pushed inside. You couldn't tell if you were wet for it, or if it had just brought its own moisture with it. The purple slime filled you, reaching every spot, then resumed its inexorable pressure, testing the walls, pressing gently, then not so gently.

It was learning. It had to be. It never pushed on the same spot in the same way twice, each time pausing for your reaction. It was finding what made you gasp, looking for the best ways to drive you wild.

You couldn't help yourself. It had been so long since a lover had explored you like this, taking as long as it needed to find the best spots to make you gasp, to make you moan with abandon. You'd stopped trying to resist, legs spread wide as you tried to indicate to something that you weren't sure if it could hear.

It got the message, before long the pressure within was accompanied by pressure without. Your body twitched as it applied a gentle suction to your clit, massaging itself into your g-spot as it did. A thin length entered your ass, growing and spreading out, rubbing against the mass in your cunt.

Different textures, speeds, depths, focused stimulation or widespread application of size. It tried them all, learning what you responded to, how you ticked.

By the time it was done, it was pitch black outside. You didn't care. You could get a takeaway any day, and right now you couldn't move without your legs quivering. A fair trade. It released you, spotlessly clean, lurking in your bathtub. You weren't sure how you'd explain to your husband about your new pet, but you'd find a way.