A Study in Purple

"Slimes are predators by nature, as any seasoned traveler is aware. But what the layman too often fails to observe is that the nature of their predation varies according to their species - a mistake often fatal to the would-be hero."

Jonathan Caine, Chief Researcher of His Majesty's Society of Alchemists, drew a glass flask from his coat as he studied a trio of large wrought-iron vats filled with bubbling, colorful liquid. He continued speaking with his apprentice as he worked, carefully drawing a sample of red ooze into the vial before stoppering it. Caine was a short, thin man with quick brown eyes and pale, nimble hands. He dressed practically in heavy leather boots, a short-sleeved brown alchemist's robe, and a slightly stained white shirt and trousers.

"Green are the most common, of course. Simple creatures, but hearty in comparison to their more sophisticated cousins. They have a natural affinity for regeneration that makes them best handled with magic or explosive weaponry." Caine eyed the vial, which ceased bubbling almost immediately after being sealed.

"Blue slimes are ambush predators. While practically immobile, they have excellent camouflage abilities and find locations like caves or ruins where the creatures can lie in wait for their prey. Their danger is compounded by a potent sedative. This renders prey helpless in minutes while the creature dissolves and consumes the unfortunate victim. Caught in the open, however, the creatures are all but defenseless. Even you, young Thomas, would have little difficulty dispatching the creature."

Thomas Miller was the top apprentice in the Royal Alchemists Academy. At the age of 19, he had already surpassed many of the upperclassmen and proven himself curious, patient, and studious, all vital components for any would-be practitioner. He was a man of middling height and brown hair, slightly plump around the middle, dressed in green apprentice robes that bore a variety of stitching and scorch marks as well as general wear and tear. His eagerness to learn and experiment was his best (and most volatile) trait.

Caine produced another vial, drawing and stoppering a sample from the vat of blue liquid. He set the second glass next to the first before turning to the young man, pointing and snapping his fingers. "The blending jar, quickly if you please. That's it, good lad. Now, the third variety is more potent than its companions due to its adaptable nature. Red slimes are known for their strong aggressive instincts and tendency to overwhelm their opponents." He unstoppered the pair of vials with one hand, picked them up, and poured their contents simultaneously into the container. "Stir. Slowly. We don't want to agitate them. Even in this form, we must take precautions."

The two liquids resumed their bubbling as they blended into a sticky purple substance while Cain continued his lecture. "The red slime's true danger, however, is its ability to take on new forms from those it absorbs. This phenomenon has been little studied and less documented, more the pity, but from the information available we know that red slimes can take on characteristics of other creatures' magic. A slime absorbing a salamander will grow resistant to flame, while one devouring a mermaid has been seen learning to swim. Scholars speculate that it could develop burning breath from absorbing a dragon, but this is of course impossible to test. The method of the slime's acquisition is still unknown at this time, but it is this capability that makes them more dangerous than their simpler brethren."

"Sir, it's... it's climbing!" Thomas swatted ineffectively with his heavy wooden spoon as the purple liquid latched on and attempted to rise toward him. "Oh gods, it's getting out! Sir!"

With a heavy sigh, Caine took a packet of green powder from the adjacent table and upended it into the mixer. The ooze smoked and hissed, unable to retreat from the caustic substance. Moments later the jar was coated in scorched black residue; no sign of the purple liquid remained.

"Pity - I had hoped that heating would... But perhaps with better containment?" Caine shrugged. "We shall endeavor again. Tomorrow, I think. The enchantments will have arrived by then, offering us a new avenue of attack." The man examined the remnants of his work before turning to his apprentice. "Thomas, kindly douse the fires and reseal the vats before tidying the lab. We'll start tomorrow after breakfast." He spun on his heel and turned to leave.

"Sir?"

"Mm?" Cain turned back, looking over his shoulder.

"Well, I just... what was that you added? Some kind of poison?"

Cain smiled. "Ah, of course - silly of me to forget. Your final lesson in slime anatomy is this: two slimes are able to merge into one another, the larger subsuming the smaller and growing into a single, more dangerous creature. But should three slimes of different colors meet and merge, their chemical structures negate each other. Total obliteration, as observed previously. An uncommon, but quite useful failsafe in our current research."

"Yes sir." He stared at a worn spot on his boot tip, kicking idly at the ground. "And if you don't mind me asking, Professor Caine... what is our current research?"

The alchemist blinked, then grinned. "Why, to combine the creatures properly, Thomas. We shall create a purple slime. And what's more, we're going to tame the beast."

"For the war effort, sir?"

"What else? It'll be my masterpiece, Thomas, I promise you that. Those damn elves will never see it coming." His eyes narrowed. "Now, enough chatter. Clean up, eat, and get some rest. We'll need you sharp and ready for tomorrow."

*****

The porters had carried in ten wooden crates the next morning before being shooed out of the lab, much to Thomas' dismay. Nine crates were full of thrice-tempered glass, steel hinges, and rubber lining, all of which the young man had laboriously unloaded and was now assembling into the Class IV Liquid Containment Observation Cell that Caine had purchased from a reputable local artificer.

The last box, however, was the alchemist's pride and joy: a custom enchantment, rendered into a viscous black tar, that was the key to this entire scheme. Bottled Affinity, the mage had called it. Caine had been corresponding with the man for 18 months now, helping him create the exact substance that would allow the alchemist to forge a master-bond with the soon-to-be-created hybrid slime. If his experiments were successful, the creature would be bound to his will. A squadron of such creatures, perfectly loyal to Caine (and thus the king) were planned as a covert band of spies and assassins, infiltrating elven territory and eliminating high-value targets with their enhanced physiology and adaptability.

But of course, it was too soon to think of the possibilities. They had to make sure it worked. "Ah, how's it coming?" Caine offered a tight-lipped smile and an encouraging nod to his apprentice. The young man was covered in packing dust intermingled with sweat, but his efforts looked promising.

"Almost done, sir. Nngh!" He heaved a glass pane into place, settling it into the rubber tubing and fastening it with a steel clamp. "Just a few more adjustments. But this..." he gestured at a steel-rimmed hole in the glass, half a meter in diameter. "Is this supposed to be here? The creature will just escape, right?"

Caine grinned, adjusting his gloves as he walked over to the case. "That is the final piece, my good apprentice, and why this particularly cage cost the king so much coin. Glass was necessary for observing the subject, of course, and the rubber seals in the edges to prevent its slimy egress. But we'll still need to collect samples and feed the creature, will we not?"

"I, um, I suppose so? Sir."

"Indeed we will. Thus, the one-way barrier that our esteemed Archmage Barovan was kind enough to create for us. It will allow an inanimate or human subject to slip through with no effort at all. But our experiment, on the other hand, will find itself utterly blocked. A solid wall against monster physiology. A door to the cell would risk the creature's escape with each opening, but this will allow us to extract pieces of the creature on which to conduct tests without putting ourselves in harm's way. Utterly foolproof." Caine stuck his hand through the opening experimentally. "Ah, a slight tingle! Interesting." He beamed at Thomas. "An ingenious design, if I may flatter myself."

Thomas flattened some seams on the rubber seal and adjusted a corner to ensure tightness, all while Caine circled the glass prison and examined it. "There, sir. All done!" He wiped his forehead with the back of a hand before settling down onto an empty crate.

"Well done. You've earned a rest, by my reckoning." Ah, to be young, Caine mused. The lad was coming along nicely. No sense giving him an outsized ego in telling the boy, but Thomas was easily the most adept apprentice he'd worked with. Quick, steady, and curious. A little awkward in social situations, especially around the ladies of the court, but being young and lowborn he could hardly be faulted for such.

The Chief Researcher rubbed his hands together, wiped them on his pants, and began preparing the lab for their grand experiment. Once started, the process was relatively simple. Three parts blue slime, four parts red, and two carefully measured ounces of Affinity Powder went into the mixing pot. "In this case, it is best not to stir them," the alchemist explained to his audience. "Please note that the parts are congealing on their own and will take some time to do so, allowing me time to add the binding agent: a small portion of my own body, to seal my mastery over the creature."

Thomas, still perched on the box, stared wide-eyed at his mentor. "Blood, sir?"

"Not quite. Do you recall the Principle of Attraction?"

The apprentice nodded. "Like calls to like."

"Indeed. Thus, while my blood would be quite effective as an agent to bind the creature to my will, the beast would also develop a taste for blood. One accidental cut could lead to bloodlust, frenzy, and a nearby victim's rapid exsanguination. Disaster." Caine produced a vial of thick white liquid, shaking it vigorously. "As such, I have stored a sample of my male essence - to use a more polite term - that will perform an identical function but without the risks inherent in blood."

He upended the vial into the mixture, set it aside, took hold of the pole, and began to stir. The various substances bubbled and shifted unnaturally, blending quickly together. Minutes later the container was filled with a shimmering purple sludge. It congealed and writhed as though trying to pull itself together into a more coherent form.

"Right, you're on deck Thomas." He tilted his head to indicate the apprentice. "You're to open the top panel like we discussed. The moment I have the creature inside its containment, that glass needs to go back in place and the seals must be perfect. Ready? Now!"

They worked in unison, the alchemist levering the mixing vat with both hands while his apprentice withdrew the top panel. Together they heaved the container up, splashing purple slime against the reinforced glass. "Good," Caine said, "That's the last of it. Seal it in." The liquid trembled, rising into a small mass and seeming to look around. Before the slime could orient itself, Thomas had the panel back in place, seals checked, clamps locked. Questing pseudopods explored along the lines and corners of the prison but found no weaknesses, and soon the slime settled into a discontented puddle in the center of its cage.

The men cheered, clasping hands. "Well done, Thomas! Well done indeed!"

"Thank you, sir!" The apprentice frowned. "Ah, well... what now?"

Caine clapped him on the back. "Now, I'm afraid, we wait. The creature will need to be fed regularly - just vegetables for now, as a safety precaution. It can hardly adapt weapons from corn and potatoes. But the creature is small, and it will need time to grow." He looked at their prisoner, then back to Thomas. "My next task will be the preparation of more exotic creatures with which to feed the hybrid to test its adaptation. You will be tasked with the beast's observation. Twenty-four hours a day, so you'll be in charge of two other apprentices. Arrange them in shifts and report everything. Most of all any... well, anything out of the ordinary. Use your judgement, lad. I trust you."

Thomas beamed. "Of course, sir!"

His own team! A chance to prove his skill! The apprentice steadied himself, trying to remain calm. "I won't let you down."

"I've no doubt of that. Well, it begins now; best make yourself comfortable. I'll have the others sent down in an hour so you can get some rest. Gods know we've earned it."

As the master alchemist walked off, Thomas resettled himself on a box and eyed the purple mass cautiously. What was it doing? What was it thinking? He'd have to check out Hothram's Compendium of Hostile Oozes and Fungi from the royal library when he went on break. You could never study too much, as Master Caine always said, and he was about to have a lot of time on his hands.

*****

The first day had been exciting. Thomas was responsible for the project's success while his master was off dealing with adventurers, and he had two underclassmen reporting to him for 6-hour daily shifts. By the second day, however, it had grown a little dull.

The slime didn't do anything. Even when fed its ration, the creature simply gathered up the vegetables (discards from the royal kitchens) and allowed them to dissolve over the next few hours. Thomas took notes, of course - how long the feeding took, which movements the creature made, and any slight coloration or size changes that he noted from one shift to the next. It was the same documentation, though, day in and day out. His grand adventure was proving to be nigh unbearably dull.

By the third day, he'd begun to find the experience peaceful. Even cathartic. An alchemist's apprentice was always in motion, rushing from class to the lab, then to study, then to sleep, before waking up and repeating the process. He'd had little time for friends or hobbies, let alone contemplation.

In a way, Thomas decided, the slime was quite pretty. He could stare for hours, watching the interplay of colors. How the wet sheen reflected the candlelight. Each small movement was fascinating. By the fourth day, Thomas had stopped bothering to take notes and simply observed. There was something about the creature, something he couldn't quite place, that made it utterly fascinating.

The long hours were getting to him, though. Twice Thomas had caught himself dozing in the small hours of the morning, just asleep enough to have odd, vivid dreams that he couldn't quite remember. The third time it happened he snapped awake, sheepish at breaking his vigil, and blushed as he noticed the shape pressing against the front of his trousers. Had it been that kind of a dream? He struggled to recall, but colors and lights were all that came to mind.

As his eyes turned back to the slime tank, he could almost swear the creature had been rearranging itself. Was it moving when he drifted off? Shaking himself and slapping his cheeks to ward off slumber, Thomas made a mental note to stock up on more coffee. Master Caine had advised no more than two cups a day, saying that most apprentices guzzled far too much of the stuff, and Thomas had always been fastidious about keeping to that limit. But with another three days of sleepless nights ahead of him Thomas was inclined to make an exception. Sure, the creature was secure in its cage. And yes, he was probably just imagining the strange oscillations in the purple goo. But alchemy was all about preparation, and he wasn't about to botch his first big responsibility.

*****

On the fourth night, caffeine humming comfortably through his veins, Thomas had settled in to study. Contemplative Concoctions, by Wilfred Smythe, lay open on the table. Smythe's primary contention was that a good alchemist should sleep exactly nine hours each night - no more, no less - in order to optimize their mind and focus their neurons. He expounded endlessly, piling up evidence like a dragon hoarding gold. Smythe was a respected alchemist and researcher, read by every race that practiced the craft, a genius in his own time.

It was the most boring thing Thomas had ever read.

He tried reading out loud, which didn't seem to help. Finally, Thomas turned to his purple companion. If it wouldn't move for Master Caine's research, at least it could be an audience for Caine's apprentice. Thomas tried to get into it, lecturing aggressively at the slime and adding colorful (and sometimes expletive-laden) commentary in an effort to liven things up. But two hours later, bored and weary, the man drifted off to sleep with the tome draped like blanket across his chest.

When the Thomas woke from his brief snooze he was irritated but unsurprised. No stimulant was potent enough to match Smythe's mindless, rambling lectures. He was more than a little surprised, however, to notice the slime had moved. More than moved. The thing was standing up, and it... it...

It was a woman. Well, not just a woman. Thomas stared, awestruck and bewildered. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Plump, luscious thighs. Wide, sensual hips. And her breasts...

They were perfect. Exactly the right shape, the right size, the right heft. As though her tits were alchemically designed to make a man helplessly aroused with a single lustful glance. Thomas realized he couldn't look away - she was so gorgeous, so perfectly alluring, that the only thing that made sense was to continue staring at this glistening goddess as she bounced and jiggled herself in front of him. His penis strained against his pants, painfully erect. Logic and self-preservation was drowned out by the thump of his heartbeat and the blood roaring in his ears.

He was dimly aware that the woman imprisoned in the glass cage was purple, her toned body composed entirely of slime. That was wrong, wasn't it? Slimes couldn't take human form - the best they could manage was a vague bipedal imitation. He'd have to make a note of it later; Master Caine would be thrilled at the discovery.

But that was later. Right now, Thomas just wanted to stare. So soft, so curvy - a body in which you could lose yourself completely. That this woman was a purple ooze monster was secondary to how much the alchemist enjoyed watching her move. Each shift caused her jelly-like form to bounce and jiggle wonderfully. Thomas soaked in the sight, rubbing himself absentmindedly through his pants at the lewd display. Surely there was nothing to worry about. After all, the slime was trapped in its container and was safely outside.

As Thomas watched, the woman made an "O" with her fingers, holding her hand to her mouth and extending her tongue suggestively. His erection throbbed at the sight. She knelt, boobs pressed against the glass, her finger beckoning him forward. He moved without thinking, trousers tumbling down around his legs, cock leading him forward to offer her what she wanted.

"What am I..." Thomas muttered to himself, pace slowing just a meter shy of the small hole in the glass. "I almost... almost..." But when he looked at the slime woman, purple skin glistening and translucent, she smiled at him. He watched her body straining against the glass. The plush softness of her lips. He wanted her so badly, and she wanted him, so why did he hesitate? The alchemist's mind grew numb, erection twitching eagerly, trying to reason his way out of the situation. But what was so wrong about it, really? He was testing a hypothesis, right? The more he looked the more it all made sense. Thomas' body trembled with excitement. Taking two steps forward, he lay his hands on the glass casing and thrust his penis through the feeding hole.