Marcc sat in the doctor's office on the one-hundred-fifth floor of the All Medical Center, the largest medical facility in all New Mureybet. To have a universal health care system was quite an accomplishment, considering the forty different species of intelligent life form that inhabited New Mureybet. This didn't include the myriad of half-breed and quarter-breed species, of which Marcc was unwittingly a member. A half-elf with no training in magic, he came to New Mureybet to study law. Studying law among the seeming chaos of spells and airships of this city... it was as if they were mocking his desire to bring order to his life.
The office was sterile, mostly whites and baby blues, a reclining chair he expected to see in a dentist's office. The arms and legs could be magically enchanted to accommodate the shortest goblin to the tallest minotaur. The default setting was fine for his six-foot frame. He tried to relax, hearing the gentle hum of the time crystal on the desk.
Marcc leaned into his hand, his slightly stubby ear resting into his palm, and he stared at the door, waiting for the doctor to arrive. He heard a strange noise, like the sound of pouring something down the sink. He looked over to the sink and pointed his ear near the drain. The sound didn't appear to be coming from there.
Marcc turned around suddenly as he heard the pipes in the ceiling rattle as something moved through them. There was a threaded corner pipe hanging from the ceiling that dropped directly into the center of the room. A large purple-pink drop formed at the outlet of the pipe, hanging like the tail of a kite. The drop became a flow of purpleish ichor. As it hit the floor, it didn't splatter like water or oil, but aggregated into a tall stack like loose gelatin.
The stack rose into a feminine shape, just above five feet tall and with all the womanly features one would expect, arms, legs, hair, a face, breasts... but no clothing. The woman's face was delicately shaped, with her 'hair' a darker purple and patches of dimmer pink emphasizing the whites of her eyes and teeth. She shook about as she regained her solid, yet still translucent state.
"Sorry I'm late." The pink woman said finally. "Traffic. You know how it is."
Marcc was silent for a moment, uncertain. "Are you the doctor?" He asked finally.
"Yes, sir." She answered, walking towards the sink, leaving pink footprints of goo behind her. "I'm Dr. Sylvia Glasse. Everyone calls me Sly, so you can, too." She retrieved a thermometer and gestured to coax Marcc to return to his seat. Marcc looked at the sticky footprints she'd left behind.
"Oh, excuse me." Sly's legs knitted back together into a single column of purple goo and spread out along the floor, absorbing the footprints. She pulled herself back together and her body became opaque. "Sorry. I haven't had my coffee. Would you like some?"
"I don't drink coffee." Marcc said. "Never had it growing up, so..."
"Suit yourself." She found the coffee maker and poured the decantur into her mug. She held the mug by the handle and thrust it into her abdomen, pulling it out a second later, empty. She shivered, her body wobbling a bit, and she returned to her opaque form. "Now, let's take your temperature."
"Is this necessary?" Marcc leaned back in his seat as Sly climbed into his lap, menacing the silver end of the thermometer at him.
"Trust me. I'm a doctor." Sly said, bringing the thermometer closer.
"Ow! That was my eye."
She blinked. "I knew that." She dropped in his mouth.
"Is this really necessary?" He spoke, the thermometer dancing in the corner of his mouth like an ostentatious toothpick.
"Please don't talk." Sly said. Marcc kept quiet as she fussed around for a minute, looking at a chart. She removed the thermometer. "Ninety-nine degrees." Her brow knitted, concerned.
"That's perfectly normal." Marcc protested. "Are you sure you're a doctor? You don't seem to know much about anatomy. After all... you..."
"Don't have body parts?" Sly finished his sentence before he could. "Then how come you're staring at me? After all, it's all the same stuff, right?" Her hands went under her breasts and shook them up and down, wobbling more beautifully than any fleshy breast he'd ever seen. "Anyway, you should take off your clothes."
"Why?" Marcc looked suspicious.
Sly looked over her shoulder at him. "Because I don't wash out."
Marcc stood and undid his shirt, emptied his pockets and removed his shoes and trousers. He stood before her in his boxers. Sly looked at him expectantly. "I don't wash out of boxers, either." She insisted. He dropped his boxers and set them aside.
"Not bad." She commented. "Bigger than most full elves I see. Their problem is they don't have much sex, so over successive generations, their genitals shrink up from atrophy."
"What successive generations?" Marcc asked. "Full elves almost never have children anymore. There's only so many immortal elves their society can support, now that the wars are over."
"Do you want to feel good about your penis or not?" Sly put her hand on her hip.
Marcc didn't answer. He shrugged, and Sly pushed him back into the chair. She sat on top of him, her cold flesh making him shiver. She walked two fingers up his bare chest and rubbed his lower lip. "Give me a taste." She whispered.
Hesitantly, Marcc wrapped his lips around her fingertip and sucked a little of her off onto his tongue. She had the taste of jam made from an unknown fruit, so saccharine, it would probably give him a headache.
"It's really sweet." He answered.
"I eat a lot of candy." She confessed. "Now, let's warm up a bit." She kissed him on the lips, and they proceeded to make out, his hands sliding across her mostly solid form. Her flesh had the gentle tacky feel of a gumdrop on a humid day. His mouth opened and bit gently on her lower lip, which parted from her form as easily as biting through a marshmallow.
He started, spit out the tiny glob into his hand and looked at her. Sly's lip was already 'healed.' She wiped up the severed lip and it returned to being part of her. "You can't hurt me, silly." Her legs loosened into less distinct appendages, more like tentacles than legs. They wrapped around his bare abdomen with strong moist suction holding them together. "Now give it to me."
They kissed a little longer, her body growing gently stickier as they kissed. Marcc stood from the chair and brought her up against the wall. She splattered like an enormous water balloon, leaving him and the wall covered in thin purple gelatin. He screamed in shock, slipping on the goo and landing on his rear.
Almost as fast as she had shattered, Sly's body pulled down from the walls and his body and reformed into her humanoid shape. "Gotcha." She mocked.
Marcc growled. It was embarrassing enough to have to go to the doctor as an elf, but he didn't remember the last doctor visit involving any pranks. Sly pranced off and pulled out a condom from a drawer.
"What's that for?" Marcc asked. "I'm almost completely positive you can't get pregnant at all, certainly not with me."
"Trust me. This makes the whole thing neater." Sly answered. "Besides, then I can't go up your peehole."
Even though he was sure real doctors didn't use the term 'peehole,' Marcc didn't much like the sound of that. Holding the rolled condom between her fingers, she threw her hand at his erect member. His unit speared her palm, unrolling the condom with the inside of her arm. She retracted it, and the condom was on perfectly. It was clearly not the first time she'd done this.
"OK, no more games. Let's do this." She pushed him back into the chair and climbed aboard his lap, parting her lips gently and accepting him inside her. She wobbled a bit as he fit completely inside her.
"You're cold..." Marcc shivered as he felt the gelatinous woman bound merrily on him. He put his hands on her buttocks to help her with the riding, but his hands started to sink inside them. In fact, he couldn't find a place on her where she was staying entirely solid. She grew more translucent, and her hair facsimile was starting to drip and loosen.
"You want to change positions?" She huffed, her breasts jiggling looser than before.
"Does it make a difference?" Marcc asked.
"I mean, I could make a place for you to do me up the ass. In fact, we're doing that." She shifted forward a few inches. "There, now this counts as anal."
"I've never had such arbitrary sex before." Marcc admitted, still pumping himself into her as far as he could. Surely, nobody could really hurt her this way, no matter how endowed.
Sly moaned and panted, which was really weird, because he wasn't certain that her species actually respired at all. Her arms grew droopy and lost their features. She wrapped them around his shoulder and back, making two solid ropes that held him in place. Marcc's hands were permanently covered in purple slime now, as he tried to find a place to put them, they got stuck in her thighs, which drew them down and immobilized them.
The back of the chair fell down to a horizontal position and Marcc watched as the rapidly melting woman continued to ride him. It looked like she was constantly trying to restructure herself, but her goo kept slipping away as she lost her focus and felt the waves of pleasure wobble through her. Every thrust now made her body jiggle.
Marcc realized it now. The friction and arousal had made her warm. That's why she was melting. And she was certainly was now. He could endure the pounding only for so long before his head craned back and he came into the condom. Her slime holding the base of the condom still, he filled the condom until it inflated to the size of a human breast implant. (The multiracial society made this specification necessary, but few other species appreciate the breast as much as the human.)
Sly released her grip on his appendages and he went limp. She used a few interesting movements of her ichor to pull the condom free from him, twist the end and tie it shut. She didn't spill a drop. Except for her sweet drops of goo she had trickling from her warmed body. Those drops were everywhere.
