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H.O.M.E. 8
by Fin
finslandofgayart.blogspot.com
"A friend of one of my boys is always a friend of mine," burped the colossal purple blob known as Slim, smiling gummy teeth of bubbling ooze.
"That's not what you said last week when my client wanted a free drink," said a passing naked Sam with styled black hair.
"Shut up twink slave," barked Slim in an immediate snarl, before turning back to face his new guests, chuckling slightly in mock embarrassment at his lapse in character, violet slime sloughing off him the whole time.
"You'll have to excuse the entertainment, sometimes bitches don't know when to keep their mouth's shut," continued the club owner as he slithered closer to Franklin and James. "Now was there something you needed of me?"
Having witnessed the exchange between Slim and his slaves, Franklin was his usual blunt, charming self.
"If you ever speak that way again, I'll kill you where you... ooze," said the man whom also believed himself to be their "owner"... of a sort.
"It takes a real Idiot to insult a Slime Lord in his own den," responded Slim, the alien's smile fading as he gathered his goo into himself to stare down this newcomer directly in its shielded eyes.
The young blonde Sam whom had brought the strangers to the club could not take any more of this odd alien himself.
"Man, what is with you Daddy! Why are you always trying to ruin everything for me!?"
"Your friends are awfully hostile, boy," belched Slim to the naked youth.
"He's not your boy!" breathed Franklin again.
"And I suspect you think he's yours?" laughed the purple gooey alien. "Another love stricken customer for one of my best."
"That's not why I brought them here Slim, look!" said the Sam, pointing at James, a Umon that while similar to the other naked young men around him, was just different enough in appearance to draw curiousity.
Slim immediately realized what his young slave was referring to.
"Well if that ain't something you don't see everyday," said Slim, oozing closer to get a better look.
"The skinwork is fantastic. The work of a real artist."
"I thought you'd be interested in him," chimed in the blonde youth nearby.
"Sam!"
"Don't look at me like that Daddy! I'm good for our deal. You tell Slim here where you got yours did, and I'm sure he'll be able to fix him. Slime Lords, you know."
"So he's rejecting?" continued Slim, studying the sickened Umon closely as he was held in his father's arms. "I can't imagine how long he was under to do this job."
Franklin just stood there, not sure how far he could take this bluff. James was in fact, not a result of surgery.
"May I?" queried the Slime Lord, raising one of his blubbery arms toward the fainted soldier.
When again Franklin failed to react, the gooey alien took his silence as consent, and touched his oozing hand to James' forehead. The violet viscous liquid seeped into the soldier's skin as Slim closed his massive bulbous eyes.
"What are you doing to him?" questioned Franklin roughly.
"Give him a moment, Daddy," answered the young blonde Sam nearby for his concentrating owner.
"Don't call me that Sam," said Franklin to the boy.
"And what would you have me call you, Daddy" said the youth annoyed.
Franklin hesitated for a second, unsure.
"How about Dad, Son?"
"Daddy, if you ain't the weirdest," laughed the Sam, the alien's odd affection making him uncomfortable.
Slim however opened his eyes startled before the two could continue their discussion any further.
"This isn't about a bad recovery," breathed the Slime Lord heavily, peering at Franklin through his helmet, trying to make out the shape of the alien that lay within. "He's never had The Fever before..."
The contours of the Slime Lord's face flowed through his body to reemerge on the other side of his viscous self, allowing Slim to bark orders to his nearby slaves.
"Close the doors! I want every other guest out of here immediately!"
"But Slim, it's not even half past Ethernight yet...." said a Sam with a pink tattoo over his shaved head.
"Do it boy! Now!"
Returning his facial slime mounds to face Franklin, the club owner waited until the room was silent before continuing.
"This isn't just some new skinjob! This is a new Umon!"
The Slime Lord's words echoed throughout the now empty club dance floor.
"Where are you from!?"
A new Umon?
The young blonde Sam was awed at the words.
The boy stared at James like meeting a new family member for the first time.
His game now up, Franklin moved to unhook the hinges of his helmet.
"What do you think you are doing!?" growled Slim. "You want to end up like him?"
The ret. admiral froze, leaving his air filtration locked over his head.
The Slime Lord whistled.
Not just one. But two new Umons had just walked into his club! What an ubelievable stroke of luck!
"I bet you don't even know what Umon Fever is?" spoke the fat blob alien confidently, slithering around Franklin as he talked. "Newcomers! Eh, boy?"
The young Sam was still too stunned to respond.
Slim though, continued his explanation to his newest best friend.
"The Fever. It's been on The Core since close to the beginning. Brought here from who knows where. But we never knew. Dormant it was. A virus. A manufactured one."
"Is there a cure?" Franklin interjected.
Slim laughed.
"No."
"Then what good are you?" growled the ret. admiral.
The Slime Lord continued his deep echoing laugh.
"He'll be fine," said Slim, gesturing to James. "If he survives it, that is."
Turning to face Franklin, the blob alien continued.
"It is you though, friend, that I'm most concerned with."
"And why is that... Slim?" said Franklin coldly.
"A Umon without The Fever? Now that is a treasure beyond worth!"
"And why is that?" questioned Franklin, disliking the violet monster more and more each second.
"Do you think I would have bought this one, if I could copy a Umon myself?" answered Slim, looking at the blonde twink that had first met the father and son pair.
"The Fever!" continued the Slime Lord, slinking around the naked youth he owned. "So deep it dwells inside the boy, it blocks my... abilities."
"But you!" said Slim, returning his attention to Franklin. "You haven't contracted it yet? Have you?"
"Meaning?"
"Meaning... you let me inside you. Let me... get to know you. Have us become... close..."
"And..."
"I'll make it so The Fever won't ever touch you, friend. Much like a Slime Lord myself! In a way..."
The ret. admiral was obviously skeptical of the conniving alien's offer.
"And why would you do that for me?"
The blob laughed loudly.
"So I don't have to buy any more of these handsome drug machines obviously," said Slim once again referring to the young Sam next to him. "So I can manufacture The Fever myself."
"You want to make more of it? It's a weapon!"
"Only a weapon to you, Umon! An intoxicating wonder to everyone else!" answered the alien. "The Fever, the unnatural mechanical demon that it is, tries to attack us all!"
"Most on The Core, newcomer, are lucky enough to be far from its original targets, that it only causes... hallucinations... euphoria... excitement, even. But not you Umon. In you it can multiply! In you it thrives!"
Slim slithered to stare directly where he assumed the Umon's eyes must be.
"So do we have a deal?"
Silence. Franklin had not yet decided.
It was the young blonde Sam however that answered next.
"I wouldn't Daddy. Slim, ain't the most honest Slime Lord in The Core."
"Why you..."
"You said you wouldn't need him?" asked the man, looking at the copy of his long lost son. "You wouldn't need any of them... if you could make The Fever yourself?"
Slim smiled insidiously, nodding.
"I'll do it," said Franklin calmly, instantly, still staring at the young blonde boy.
"A wise decision, Umon. A wise decision indeed."
Gesturing at a nearby bench beside the dancefloor, Slim offered it to his new partner. "Care to take a seat?"
"I'm fine right here, thanks."
"Suit yourself," said the Slime Lord. "But you might want to let that one go before we begin."
The blonde lad near them stepped forward and took the unconscious James into his arms.
"It's okay Daddy. I've got him."
Franklin nodded to the boy, then looked back to Slim.
"Let's get this over with, alien."
"As you wish, friend."
The blob that was the Slime Lord began to lose its form, bubbling into a puddle around Franklin's feet. Then finding a microscopic flaw in the man's outfit, flowed inside.
The ret. admiral felt the thick, heavy, viscous slime fill his suit, all the way up until it started to spill into his helmet.
Franklin was soon staring at the undulating formless visage of Slim's face, inches from his own.
"This may hurt a bit, Umon."
"Do it already."
Slim just smiled and closed his eyes. The slime rushed toward the man's face. Then into him.
When it was over, Franklin Blade, now missing his helmet, was left staring at an exact replica of himself.
"Welcome home, Umon."
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