Chapter 7: Slime & Blood

Slimecicle, aka Charles Dalgleish. Was in his apartment in america. As his goop covered the bottom of a tub, asleep. A green slime, that slowly moved, as it began to form, and shift, until it began to look like clothes, and eventually, a face. His eyes are too wide, and don't blink, as he moves, walking, as small stains on the carpet are left. He goes to the sink, and turns on the fosite, as he puts his hand under it, and the water seems to enter his form causing it to ripple. "Its using my... dream SMP lore..." He says his voice... human, and yet off. He pulls back his hand. Green, liquid. As he opens the door. His form moves to look more, and more human, until only a small part of his head is left as green goop, and he stops leaving stains on the carpet. He sits on his chair, for his computer, careful... as green stains cover his room, and items. It took... several days to learn to hold himself together. Several more days to learn how to make it look and act like skin. He reacehs, and turns on the computer. He has not... told anyone. He locked himself in his room, and... never seemed to need food... just... water, and prehaps a little food sometimes to turn that water into more of... himself.

His computer turned on, discord loaded, and... he saw countless pings. He looked, and saw DMs... growing progressively more worried over days, that he had been effected. He read ramboo's DM, and it said "uh... dude... were you... transformed? You just... fell off." He moved, and clicked on some servers that they hung out in... a major DM from a few creators leaving, some emmited that there charictors they play on there servers... were becomeing real. Thou... it seems to not be doing much to his mind... very little even. It unerves him... but it makes sense, the charictor was not... very detailed in mind. Or prehaps its a mixture of all the various chairctors he made that were slimes. Origins SMP, Dream SMP, QSMP, and even his own icon. But... he realizes he could no longer blink, that he could see in all directions around him at once, that his eyes, and flesh were fake, and did not move like flesh unless he focused.

It was worse... because, every little stain of slime left... pinged to him. He could feel them from across the room. They were annoying, having those blobs left. He gets up, and focuses... as the slime stains begin to move, and merge with his toes slowly, as he focuses, until after a few minutes, they are all gone. He sits back down. He opens up a chat... and sees in media. A image of posted by philza's wife, Kristin Misstrixtin... of Philza in a hospital, with a huge grotesques budge on his back, and... a gruesome sight of limbs forming, and thin black newly formed feathers. Seems he is changing too, he reads the chat logs, and various pepole giving support. While being extremely conerned... as Philza is becoming what his persona was, sure he used a webcam... but artist drew him as the crow father. Viewers as crows, him as a bird man with black wings.

He reads the most recent messages, and sees Philza was able to type... philza said "I'm getting better. The wings are... stablizing. But... Kristin is complaning about feathers getting everywhere. THEY GET SO FUCKING DIRTY, why are feathers so high manience!" Then philza replies "But... seriously, i am planing to begin streaming here... it... has not effected my personality much, as it seems my viewers see me, as me. Just with wings at least." Dream replied "Yo... thats tought, but at least its getting better." Tubbo replies "Good luck man." Wilber asked "Can you fly?" Philza says "No idea... but i am feeling tempted to try, thou the doctors say the physics does not work out. Apparenetly these MASSIVE wings that i need to fold it, and ive caught in doors TOO MANY TIMES! are too small."

Charley sighs... his form drooping inhumanly, and bending slightly. As he locks it back in place. "I need to pull myself together... at least i did not get my mind effected... still..." He looks at his cursed carpet. "Fuck carpets." They are the most painful thing for him! His feet touch them, and break thru the memebrain, as he leaks! It takes SO MUCH EFFORT to not... leak, and reinforce the membrain. He clicks, and DMs Phliza "Hey, how are you. I heard you transformed." In truth, Charlie hadn't gone outside in 18 days, or even livestreamed. After his finger began to turn to slime. He disappeared.

Philza remembers it well. He remembered the moment it began. Not a flash of pain, not a drama-soaked transformation scene—just a twinge. Like a pinched nerve or a pulled muscle, subtle at first, then worse. A heat beneath the skin. A bulge forming. Kristin spotted it first. He'd turned, and she went silent. "Phil," she whispered, "what's on your back?" Within two days, it was visible through his shirt. And the pain... that came next. Both he, and his wife were horrified, as he stopped streaming, and after a docter visit, and a x-ray. Its was confermed. They saw new bone structures forming within the buldge, partly-formed, folded up wings, and even some early signs of feathers within the mass. As... he was diagnozed with 'narrative transformation'.

As they predicted... over several days, the wings would grow, break thru the skin, and fully attach, and form. The doctor said "It was often the case when large apendages need to be grown, they grow inside internal sacks, or tumer like structures... uh... before breaking free violently, suddenly, and... with blood, and pain. Surgery has been found to not be... nessesasry, as it will all work itself out." Kristin held his hand, asking in utter worry "What... about infection!?" The doctor sighs "From what we can tell... durring a transformation process... even cancer can not kill someone. Hell, there was a story going viral where a person was shot in the head, but happened to be growing a cat tail, and the brain repaired itself after 3 days, with no memory loss. Basicly... your nearly unkillable, and the body as long as its... at least remotely alive, has crazy level regeneration, along with a crazy strong immune system."

As he returned home, the weird lumbs, and the patterns under his skin grew larger, he could move then, and the sac on his back grew larger, thicker, discusting. As he felt back pain at every movement, couldn't go outside. He couldn't wear shirts. Couldn't sit back in chairs. Couldn't sleep comfortably. The wings hadn't emerged yet, but he could already feel them. Kristin tried to help. Sat beside him. Made jokes. Cooked for him. But she cried, too. Not out of disgust. Out of helplessness. Because he wasn't dying, but he wasn't okay. And no hospital could help.

Kristin never left him. That mattered. She sat through the nights where he screamed into pillows. Where the bulge twitched with sudden spasms that left him breathless. She watched his appetite vanish and return erratically. She changed sheets. Applied ice. Helped him tape gauze over places where the skin had begun to split. But more than anything, she stayed. Painkillers helped quite a bit, allowing him to move when the sac was small. But eventually... it broke out.

It was hell, utter total hell, when, while laying on his chest, as ice covered the bludge that covered half his back, and was inches thick, with feathers, and bone visibly pushing into the skin. As he subconchessly moved one of the wings, and pain tore into him. Before, suddenly... it broke, the bubble split at one spot, unclean. He screamed in pain, as he felt the layer of skin covering it, break apart, as blood covered half his body. As Kristin ran in, in horror. Before... eventually the two 4.5m long wings lay beside him. Shaking, as he shook in pain, as the bleeding slowed, and his bed was utterly covered in blood, and... mucuse. The feathers were... somewhat complete, the wing tips were down feathers, and the wingtips were visibly incomplete. While feathers covered his entire back. As a second layer of skin began to cover the entire bubble, refuse its remains over the course of a hour.

After, Kristin guided him to take a shower. It was hell, but nessesary, considering the black of the feathers was barely visible thru the red of blood, and he looked like he murdered someone. As he could bairly walk, and the wings were too weak to move, so they lifted, and draged with pain, and bumping into walls, and doors. Knocking over pictures along the way. He kept apologizing. "Sorry. Sorry." Still half sobbing in utter pain, unsteadyness, and instability. Until... he was in the bath, and a she used a spounge, and began to gently clean his feathers. It took several hours, and he had to stand, or neal thru the entire thing. He shook, and jittered at every touch of a feather. "Its... so senstive... ah.." as she carefully wipes the feathers with soap. Only to then notice the feathers were... not liking the soap, as she looked at the label and it read "Not safe for use on birds." She threw it away, and began washing the feathers with water, with worry. As she just used pure water.

Eventually, he neal in the tub, half-naked. As he pants. Quite... as he is no longer as bloody, and Kristin is very... very... bloody, and the apartment is bloody, and grose thru the path she walked him out of the bedroom. The cursed larged wings slowly folded on his back, as he clenched his teeth at every feather shift. "They... are so... fucking weak... ah..." she rubs his sholders, and holds the wings up with her own hands, as he shakes at her touch. "B-Be carefull... ah..." Eventually, after many long minutes in that bathroom, spent cleaning, and picking up the loose fallen feathers. He was moved to her bedroom, as his... needed a deep clean.

He lay face first on the bed, his body clean of blood, and back scared, but healing. Already looking better, and less lumpy. Feathers half filled in, on the ugly feathers, and a small patch of feathers... far too dry, and brittle due to... the shampoo. He fell asleep... crying. As she rubbed his sholders, and held his hand. The next few days... were a quite hell. As the feathers regrew, filled in, and... they both learned how hellish feathers can be. That all those shows, and movies shruging off feathers... had no idea how much work came into keeping them clean, and looking ok at least. How many fell off, how many needed a gentle care as they grew in. How sensitive wings were when they were only half-feathered.

As well as that... how weak the wings were. They were new-born limbs. Bairly any mussle mass, but rapidly strengthening over the next few days. As Kristin cleaned, and Phil survived. As they learned quickly, that Dove is the best soap ever, because it works for wings. About how many times philza would walk, and bump a wing into something, and just says "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" As he held carefully, the new-born wings. While he walked around shirtless... alwase. As... they both agreed, attempting to slide wings thru slits in a shirt... was impossible, at least until the wings grow better. But... they just don't know how to cloth him. Chairs with backs don't work. Laying on his back... does not, sitting... he finds easyer to sleep, as for some reason... his legs gained the ability to lock up, and hold him up, while he sleeps.

At somepoint... they both agreed there would forever be random feathers, and stains in the house. While, he learned to sleep sitting, or cross-legged. As over the next few days.. .eventually, the wings finished. Full black, strong, too strong even. They got to a point where... he hit one on a wall, and extended it all the way, and with a crack of air, broke a lamp in half. His own body also got stronger. He began to need to learn mussle control to just not... break a cup by holding it. One thing... nether expected was... when he began to watch shiny things too closely. Both did not talk about it thou. As she learned how to get a shirt on him... and it was not easy, but hey, at least it worked. Thou it did expose his bare back, that now was covered in a thin layer of down feathers. Their apartment.

Eventually, Philza goes online, as he responds to pepole, complains, and tries to reintgreate socoally. He gets a DM from slimesicle. "Hey, how are you. I heard you transformed." He frowns, and writes "Yeah... you disapeared recently yourself." Slime writes in reply "Uh... yeah... i am not doing so hot... i have no one. Im stuck in my apartment." He frowns worried. He has no idea what he would do without Kristin. He does remember the few complates, and notes on the door they got about 'Crashing', 'yelling', too late at night durring his early transformation. How... would someone manage a transformation with no one? Then... he looks at slimesicles icon... slime... his eyes go wide in horror. A spike of horror filled... worry fills him. He rewrites his message several times in anxiety... before he writes "Can you tell me what's happening?" He pauses. Unsure.

Slime replies "Yeah..." then a pause, as his discord chat flashes, as he waits for charlies reply. "Dude... im fucking slime... its fucking horrible." A silence. He writes "Are... you ok? Do you need help?" Slime writes "What am i ment to do? I mean... im ok... i guess. I... am living. But..." Phil started typing. His hands shook slightly. "Look... this isn't something you're supposed to figure out alone." Then paused. Deleted it. Rewrote. "When I changed, I had help. I had Kristin. And it was still hell. I can't imagine—" No. Backspace again. He needed to say something real, not something clean. He exhaled, stretched his wings slightly, and typed slowly. "Charlie, this thing... this change, it's not just physical. It breaks routines. It shreds your life. And if you try to treat it like it'll go away on its own, it'll hollow you out. You don't go away, but the things around you start feeling like they don't fit anymore."

Slime does not write for a while, until he replies "Carpets are horrible. I can... look human if i try... but... it falls apart if i let go... and... my eyes no longer work... because... its fake." Philza pauses, and sighs. Writing "VC?". Before slime pauses... and then writes "Sure." As the call starts. Slime says "Yo... i guess..." Phil says "So... yeah... i grew wings... it was hellish... *sigh*, but dude... come on... just... describe it i guess." Slime is quite. "It started with a finger... then a hand... and then a arm. I... was liquifying. I paniced, and eventually, i was just a fucking ozze in a cap pluged bathtub..." Silece fills the call. Philza sighs deeply. "Gezz... fuck that. Did it hurt? Mine hurt like hell."

Slime was quite, and sighed "Yeah... a little, but only when i touched the riding edge... the bit taht was still bone, and flesh. Worse... i was not some fluid... i could... control it... feel it... move it. Make it hard, or soft." Phil pauses... and says "You shouldn't be doing this alone, mate," he said. "Fuck the whole 'man up' crap. This isn't about being strong. It's about not disappearing." Charlie replies "Yeah... but what can i do? I need water to survive now... and... preahps a bit of meat here, and there? Thats... it... i can look human, make the slime solid, and look like skin, and eyes, and clothes..."

Phils voice cracked a little. "That's good. That's something. It means you've got control." Charlie gave a dry laugh, quiet and faintly sloshy. "Yeah. Until I walk on carpet. Then it's like my feet get caught in barbed wire, and I leave little parts of myself behind." Phil winced. "Fucking... god. Sorry. I... Jesus." Charlie sighs "Its fine... even if i lose a part, its still me, and i can make it come back. Its like... every bit of slime has... me in it, all linked without care for distance." A quite... Phil is unsure what to say. "Thats... hard."

Charlie says "Yeah... and... im scared. What... what if i get put down a drain, or what if i lose all my mosture... or... enter a pool... fuck... what about the sun? Will it dry me out? Or... what... what if someone eats the fucking goop! *sigh*" Phil sighs "Fuck it... you know what, i say we orgnize all of us to meat up, the entire group. We fucking need it, i think you do. Ok... I mean... i heard yesterday that ramboo began to change himself. Except he has been more public about it... he is apareently becoming half enderman or something? So yeah... also... start talking with pepole dude! You got friends." Charlie sighs "Fine... i'm just worried... im not fucking human... i... i can see in all directions at once! The eyes are fake." Phil sighs "Does it matter, i got bird wings that are absolute hell, and burst out of my back with so much blood it was like a murder scean! I am worried about walking outside, but... Kristin forced me to go grocery shoping with her, and yes i got staired at, but a kid came up, and wanted to take a picture. So... whatever." Charlie sighs "Yeah... i guess."