The Uber slows to a stop, and Amy practically vibrates with excitement next to me. She's been covering my eyes with her hands for the last ten minutes, occasionally giggling like a schoolgirl. Her fingers feel almost normal against my skin, though there's still that slight slickness that reminds me she's not human.
"No peeking!" she warns as we exit the car. I feel her body press against my back, guiding me forward a few steps.
"Okay, darling, are you ready?" Her voice is breathless with anticipation.
I can't help but laugh a little. Her excitement is honestly infectious despite everything that's happened. "Sure, I'm ready."
She removes her hands with a dramatic flourish, and I blink as my eyes adjust to the neon glow before me. We're standing in front of an Applebee's. Not just any Applebee's, it's possibly the most generic, strip-mall Applebee's I've ever seen.
Amy is staring at the restaurant like it's the gates to heaven, her purple eyes wide with wonder, hands clasped beneath her chin.
"Ta-da!" she exclaims, throwing her arms wide. "The finest dining experience in all of human culture!"
I stare at her, then back at the Applebee's, then back at her again. "You're joking, right?"
Her face falls slightly. "What do you mean? The Amy I absorbed had memories of this place being very special. A celebration destination."
"I..." I start, then stop myself. The disappointment on her face is so genuine that I don't have the heart to tell her that Applebee's is basically the punchline of restaurant jokes. "It's perfect," I say instead.
Amy's face lights up like I've just handed her the moon. She throws her arms around me, squealing with delight.
"Oh, Ben! I knew you'd love it!"
Before I can respond, I feel something warm and wet against my feet. I look down to see purple slime pooling around my shoes, spreading across the pavement. Amy's lower half is literally melting into the ground, her body losing cohesion.
"I'm so happy," she gushes, her voice bubbling with excitement. "Isn't this the best? I'll have my darling in one hand and a triple dipper in the other!"
Horror washes over me as I notice what's happening. I grab Amy's hand, squeezing it firmly as I lean in close.
"Amy, stop fucking sliming and become a human again," I whisper urgently, eyes darting around the parking lot. "People could see!"
"Oh, aha, sorry," she says, looking down at the purple puddle spreading beneath us. With a sound like someone slurping the last bit of milkshake through a straw, the slime retracts, reforming into perfectly shaped legs and feet in stylish black heels. "I got too excited."
I exhale in relief as she takes her human form.
"You have to be more careful," I mutter, guiding her toward the entrance with a hand on the small of her back. "No sliming in public."
"I know, I know," she pouts, adjusting her black shirt. "But I can't help it when I'm too happy. Happiness is still new for me, Ben."
Something about her words makes my chest tighten. For all her bizarre behavior and threats, there's something undeniably vulnerable about Amy. I've spent so much time focusing on my own pain that I haven't really considered her circumstances.
"Welcome to Applebee's!" A perky hostess greets us, her eyes lingering a bit too long on me before sliding to Amy. Her smile falters slightly at Amy's unnerving purple gaze.
"Table for two, please," I say, trying to sound normal. "Somewhere quiet, if possible."
The hostess leads us to a booth in the corner, and Amy slides in across from me, immediately grabbing the sticky laminated menu with childlike enthusiasm.
"Everything looks so good," she whispers reverently, eyes wide as she flips through the pages. "So many options for human consumption!"
"Oh my god, they have a Triple Dipper," Amy gasps, her finger tracing the glossy picture in the menu like it's a holy relic. "Ben, I need this in my body immediately."
I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Then order it."
"I will," she says firmly, eyes still glued to the menu. "And you're getting..." Her eyes scan the page before darting up to meet mine. "What do you want, darling?"
Before I can answer, a waitress approaches our table. She's wearing the standard black Applebee's uniform, her brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.
"Hey there, welcome to Applebee's!" The waitress greets us with practiced cheerfulness, pen poised over her notepad. "Can I start you off with some drinks or appetizers tonight?"
Amy practically vibrates in her seat, her hand shooting up like an eager student. "I want the Triple Dipper with Fried Mozzarella sticks, Big Mouth Bites, and Crispy Chicken Crispers," she announces, the words tumbling out so fast they almost blend together. "Oh! And ranch dipping sauce. Lots of ranch!"
Her eyes are wide with excitement, cheeks flushed with a purple-tinged blush that thankfully looks close enough to normal in the dim restaurant lighting. She's literally bouncing in her seat, hands clasped together in anticipation like a kid on Christmas morning.
I can't help but find her enthusiasm endearing. There's something weirdly pure about how much joy she finds in ordinary human experiences.
The waitress nods, scribbling down Amy's order before turning to me. "And for you, sir?"
I scan the menu, overwhelmed by choices. Nothing really jumps out at me, and I find myself hesitating, flipping back and forth between pages.
Amy leans forward, a smug smile spreading across her face. "He'll have what I'm having," she declares with authority, shooting me a possessive look that somehow makes my heart skip a beat.
I close my menu and smile. "Yeah, that works for me."
The waitress raises her eyebrows slightly. "Two Triple Dippers? That's a lot of food..."
"We're very hungry," Amy says, her voice dropping an octave on the word "hungry" in a way that makes the waitress take a small step back. "Oh, and two waters too."
After the waitress leaves, Amy reaches across the table and takes my hand, her skin cool and slightly slick against mine. "This is perfect," she whispers, her purple eyes glittering in the dim light. "My first real date with my darling."
I squeeze her hand, surprised by how natural it feels. "You've really never been on a date before?"
Amy shakes her head, a shadow passing over her face. "Before I absorbed human Amy, I was... different. Less formed. I existed, but not like this." She gestures to her body. "I couldn't interact with the world this way."
"What were you before?" I ask, genuinely curious despite myself.
She tilts her head, considering. "Hard to explain in human terms. Something ancient. Something hungry." Her lips curve into a smile that's both innocent and predatory. "But now I'm Amy, and I'm on a date with my Ben at Applebee's!"
The conversation lulls as Amy stares dreamily around the restaurant, taking in every tacky decoration with wide-eyed wonder. I find myself watching her face, the way her expressions shift so openly between childlike fascination and something darker, more predatory.
Suddenly, I feel something cool and slick sliding up my inner thigh. At first, I think it's just my imagination, but then the sensation becomes unmistakable, a thin tendril of slime slithering beneath my pant leg.
"Amy," I hiss under my breath, "what are you doing?"
She blinks innocently at me across the table, not a single hint of mischief on her face. "Just sitting here, waiting for our food."
The tendril creeps higher, sliding past the hem of my boxers. Before I can protest further, I feel it wrap around my cock, enveloping it completely in cool, pulsating slime. I wince slightly at the sudden sensation.
"AMY!" I whisper-shout, panic rising in my chest as I glance around frantically to see if anyone's noticed.
She leans forward, resting her chin on her hands, giving me the most pitiful puppy dog eyes I've ever seen. "Please, darling," she whispers, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. "Let me enjoy these new foods while also enjoying you. No one will notice, see?"
I glance down at the table. She's right. There's absolutely no visible sign of what's happening beneath it. Her body remains perfectly still in her seat, both hands visible on the tabletop.
"This is insane," I mutter, but my body is already responding, blood rushing south as the slime around my cock begins to undulate rhythmically.
"It feels like me, doesn't it?" she whispers, her voice dropping to a seductive purr. "Like I'm wrapped around you, taking you inside me."
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying to maintain my composure as the sensation intensifies. The slime pulses and gyrates, creating a perfect simulation of her pussy, warm and tight and impossibly slick.
"Your drinks," announces the waitress, appearing suddenly beside our table with two glasses of water.
I nearly jump out of my skin, a strangled sound escaping my throat that I quickly disguise as a cough. Amy smiles sweetly at the waitress, thanking her with perfect composure while her tendril continues its relentless rhythm around my cock.
"Are you alright, sir?" the waitress asks, eyeing me with concern. "You look a little flushed."
"Fine," I choke out, reaching for my water with a shaking hand. "Just, uh, hot in here."
"Your food should be out shortly," she says before walking away.
The slime's movements around my cock slow to a gentle, teasing undulation as Amy watches the kitchen door with a predatory focus.
"I'll be good," she whispers, though the glint in her purple eyes suggests otherwise. "Until the food comes."
I take several deep breaths, trying to regain my composure. The sensation doesn't stop completely, just eases back to a gentle, rhythmic pulsing that keeps me hard but not quite on edge.
"You're insane," I mutter, but there's no real heat in my words.
Amy's lips curl into a knowing smile. "You love it."
After some time the waitress appears, balancing two enormous platters of food. Each Triple Dipper takes up nearly half the table, loaded with fried mozzarella sticks, mini burgers, and chicken tenders arranged around ramekins of various sauces.
"Enjoy your meal," the waitress says, eyeing the amount of food dubiously.
Amy's eyes widen at the sight, her pupils dilating to almost consume the purple iris. "Oh my god," she whispers reverently. "It's even more beautiful than the picture."
The moment the waitress walks away, Amy grabs a mozzarella stick and takes a bite. The cheese stretches in a long, gooey strand from her mouth, and she moans with such unfiltered pleasure that I glance around nervously to see if anyone's staring.
"Mmmmm," she purrs, licking her lips slowly, deliberately. Her eyes lock with mine as she dips another mozzarella stick in marinara sauce, sliding it between her lips with exaggerated sensuality.
Simultaneously, the tendril around my cock tightens and speeds up its movements, matching the rhythm of her chewing.
"Go on, baby," she says, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Eat."
I reach for a chicken tender with a shaking hand, nearly dropping it when the slime around my cock suddenly corkscrews in a mind-bending twist. It tastes good, but it's hard to focus on it like this.
"Good boy," Amy purrs, watching me take a bite. "Doesn't it taste amazing?"
She picks up a mini burger, taking a deliberate bite while maintaining eye contact. With each chew, the slime around my cock pulses in perfect synchronization.
"You're not eating enough," she pouts, pushing my plate closer. "I want to watch you enjoy it."
I take another bite of chicken, and the sensation between my legs intensifies, the slime now vibrating at a frequency that has me on the edge of my seat.
"Amy," I hiss through clenched teeth. "I can't…"
"Shhh," she interrupts, dipping a mozzarella stick in ranch dressing. "Just eat and enjoy."
The slime tendril suddenly freezes mid-movement as a figure approaches our table. I glance up to see a girl with short red hair and a friendly smile heading directly toward us.
"Hey, you're Ben, right?" she asks, stopping beside our booth.
My heart pounds like a jackhammer as the tendril around my cock resumes its movement even more intensely than before. I grip the edge of the table, trying to maintain my composure.
"Yeah, hi," I manage to say, my voice strained.
"I'm Riley. We have Econ 301 together," she continues, seemingly oblivious to my predicament. "You've missed the last few days. Just wanted to check if you're alright?"
I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my temple as Amy's tendril begins spinning around me with renewed vigor. The pressure is building rapidly, and I'm fighting desperately to hold back.
"Oh, you know, just been busy," I say, forcing a casual tone while my toes curl in my shoes, "this and that."
Riley nods sympathetically, completely unaware that I'm on the verge of orgasm while making direct eye contact with her. I feel a telltale warmth as pre-cum begins to leak from my tip, the slime eagerly absorbing it.
"Benjamin!" Amy's voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, sharp and angry. Her eyes have narrowed to purple slits, jaw clenched tight.
I turn to look at her, caught between her fierce glare and Riley's concerned expression.
"Look at me right now," Amy demands, her voice dropping to a possessive growl.
The command in her voice, combined with the relentless stimulation below the table, pushes me over the edge. My vision blurs as I cum hard into the slime tendril, my entire body tensing as waves of pleasure crash through me. Despite my best efforts I let out a little whimper.
"Are you okay?" Riley asks, her brow furrowing with concern. "You look like you're in pain."
"He's fine," Amy snaps before I can respond, her hand reaching across the table to grip mine possessively as I blow my entire load into her slimy little friend. "Just having a little episode. Doctor says it'll pass."
Riley takes a small step back, clearly confused by Amy's hostility. "Oh, um, sorry to interrupt your dinner. I just wanted to let you know Professor Harmon extended the deadline for the market analysis project. It's due next Friday now."
"Thanks," I mumble, still trying to recover as the slime tendril slowly withdraws, leaving me feeling both satisfied and mortified.
"No problem," Riley says, her eyes darting between us uncertainly. "Hope you feel better soon."
As Riley walks away, Amy's expression darkens further, her eyes tracking the other woman's retreat like a predator.
"Who was that?" she asks, her voice dangerously calm.
"I honestly don't know her," I say, still trying to catch my breath. "She's just some girl from my Econ class, apparently."
Amy's expression shifts instantly, her previously playful demeanor vanishing like a switch has been flipped. The temperature around us seems to drop several degrees as her eyes narrow, the purple in them darkening to an almost black violet.
"When you cum, Ben," she says, her voice dropping to a glacial whisper that sends chills down my spine, "you better look me in the fucking eyes unless I say otherwise. Got it?"
The casual nature of her threat, combined with the public setting, makes it all the more terrifying. Her fingers, still entwined with mine on the tabletop, subtly elongate, the tips sharpening to points that press lightly against my wrist.
"I... yes," I stammer, feeling trapped despite sitting in a crowded restaurant. "I understand."
Amy leans forward, her voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Did you like her face, Ben? Maybe her body?"
The question catches me off guard, my stomach tightening with dread. "What? No, I barely know her."
"But you looked at her, didn't you?" Amy's fingers trace patterns on the tabletop, leaving faint purple streaks that quickly fade. "While you were about to cum inside me, you were looking at her."
"That's not fair," I protest, keeping my voice low. "She walked up to us. I was trying to act normal."
Amy's expression shifts suddenly, her features softening as she tilts her head. The menacing aura dissipates like mist under sunlight.
"Hmmm, interesting. Okay then."