Slime And Punishment 4 Chapter 4: What's A Christopher Hill?

His skill described it as a Level 7 Christopher Hill, he didn't recognize the species. It resembled the elves to some extent, but lacked the pointed ears of that race. What's more, it seemed to be naked, except for a lumpy red and brown slick that covered parts of its body. Perhaps a natural armor made of its own secretions?

It would have to be strong. The claws of the Kulrin Hunter it had slain were wickedly sharp, and the venom of the False Medusa that had been grafted to the Hunter was deadly in its own right.

The hybrid monster would be a pain to replace. It was rare to find a Hunter of such a low level that it was safe to contain it. However, this presented a unique opportunity. For a Level 7 creature to defeat the Professor's creation was no mean feat. Even sedated, the Level 29 Hunter-Medusa hybrid would be more than a match for most random sp.a.w.ns. And the Christopher Hill beast had probably been an even lower level when it had sp.a.w.ned.

As Vel'Xrt moved past rows and rows of cages, he wondered what to splice the Christopher Hill with. The Professor had been planning on examining the Hunter-Medusa hybrid later. That would have to be rescheduled for another date. He'd be understandably disappointed, but it did free him up to perform another operation.

The Christopher Hill evidently had superb dexterity, const.i.tution and natural armor. It would be interesting to round that out with strength and endurance—perhaps a Pit Stalker. Or what about—

Vel'Xrt pushed through the double doors, entering the Professor's office.

"Professor, a Christopher Hill sp.a.w.ned inside one of the cages and killed the hybrid you just operated on."

The Professor waved a tentacle behind him in acknowledgement, then paused. "What's a Christopher Hill?"

Chris stared at the viewing slit for a while. He hadn't seen much of the face, but it had been undoubtedly alien—folds of fat hanging over entirely black orb-like eyes that lacked irises or sclera and veins pulsing with blood in hypnotic patterns.

The creature had left soon after—probably to get help once it'd seen him crouching over the slain monster.

He redoubled his efforts to manifest the claw-bladed spear, hiding next to the door, prepared to ambush the first person to walk through it.

He had forgotten about the ceiling. It cracked open with a whisper of turning gears. A canister fell from above and began to disgorge choking, yellow smoke.

Chris' eyes rolled back in his skull and he pitched forward, sinking into oblivion.

Chris awoke to eye-searing lights overhead and an operating table beneath him. He tried to move, but cold, metal restraints pressed tight against the naked flesh of his arms, chest, neck, and legs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the alien creatures hurrying between bins full of strange powders and countertops crammed with bubbling liquids.

He tried to speak, but his tongue was leaden in his mouth, feeling like a worm stuffed with grain and meal, then dried under the sun.

The alien was slug-like, a ma.s.s of tentacles and slime emerging from underneath its bulbous, lardy body. Five tentacles held syringes full of red liquid aloft as it mixed reagents together over burners.
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It turned to him then, one tentacle prodding his face when it saw him looking at it.

Chris paled, he knew enough about hentai to know where this was going.

It wasn't going there, thankfully. Instead, the tentacle-slug jammed four syringes into his arm and pushed the plungers down deep.

Chris' arm was filled with slow fire as the creature bubbled excitedly above him. Soon, a tank was wheeled in, filled with a pale, translucent green goo. A small stone bobbed in the center of the green jelly.

The slug creature pushed the lid aside and squirted the remaining liquid into the jelly. The jelly roiled when it came in contact with the red liquid, then allowed the syringe's contents to diffuse through it. The slug waited, then drew five syringes full of the goo and set them to one side.

It turned to a drawer by its side, rummaged through it, and found what it was looking for. Then it moved back to his side, holding a large meat-cleaver.

Chris' eyes widened. He didn't like where this was going.

Without ceremony, the tentacle-slug brought the cleaver down. It hacked halfway through his right arm, until the blade was stopped by bone. Pain exploded through his body, running from his fingertips to chest. The slug creature bubbled something again, then gripped his torso and arm, spreading the wound it had caused apart.

The shooting agony made Chris black out. He resurfaced moments later to see the creature holding his dismembered arm. It applied golden crystals the size and shape of salt-flakes to the bleeding end of the appendage, then dipped the severed limb in a bright blue concoction from one of the flasks.

The slug hummed wetly to itself, picked up the five goo-filled syringes and injected them into the fingertips. Chris watched in horrified fascination as the fingers twitched and clenched. The creature seemed to nod to itself, then sprinkled a few more of the golden flakes where the arm had been cut.

It moved back to him and pressed the limb back onto his still-bleeding stump and held it there for a moment.

An itching joined with the pain as his flesh began to knit itself back together, then he shivered. He could feel something moving inside his fingers. Like clotted blood gumming its way through his veins, something rippled its way up his forearm, into his elbow, past the rejoining wound, and into his shoulder.

Chris looked away, his attention falling on the tank of green goo. Was that a Slime? That had better not be a Slime. As if to spite him, the green definitely-not-Slime glooped upward, straining past the ajar lid of the tank.

The tentacle-slug saw him staring, tutted in its liquid voice and slapped the Slime's pseudopod back down, then closed the lid over it, sealing it shut.

Chris looked back at his right hand. The Slime had spread farther through him, he almost thought he could feel it tickling his heart. Then the Slime continued, spreading through his body.

The tentacle-slug watched carefully, then refilled its five syringes again, topping his fingertips up with more of the green goo. This time, when his arm was attached, it hurt a lot more. More Slime surged through his blood vessels, causing his veins and arteries to bulge monstrously. Yet more Slime was added, and Chris felt a p.r.i.c.kling sensation erupt across his entire body, although it was most intense around his right arm.

Pinp.r.i.c.ks of red blossomed on his naked skin. Beads of blood seeped from his pores, coalescing into droplets that streamed down onto the operating table beneath him.

The slug creature paused, then shrugged. It pushed back the lid of the Slime tank one more time and dosed him up with the gelatinous monster.

Pain overtook Chris' body once again. Veins in his arm burst from the pressure as the Slime surged one final time. Blood, squeezed from his vessels by the pressure, and poured down him in red rivulets that ebbed and flowed with every throb of his heart.

Finally realizing his right arm was free from the restraints, he gave it a brief flex. The action made the blood coating it ripple and twist, like a stream over stones.

He held his hand in front of his face, examining it for any abnormalities as the tentacle-slug drew one final syringe, this time filled with a clear liquid. Sedative or some sort of control serum, if he had to guess.

Chris tried to summon his spear to his hand as he saw the creature approach. To no avail.

The syringe plunged down, just as light burst into the air around him, a screen appearing before his eyes.

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