Pour It Down The Sink

Nope, Lois said to herself. Not even a drop. Don't know where this stuff's been or who it came out of.

She tipped the bottle out over the drain.

The cum inside moved sluggishly. It began to form a grey-white drop at the lip of the bottle. Lois shook it, and the drop grew...and grew...

Unnaturally, the cum drop seemed to hang there, clinging to the rim of the bottle, getting bigger and bigger. Soon, the bottle was half-empty, but the drop was still cohesive, gripping the bottle by the tiniest thread. The reporter glowered and lowered the bottle so that the drop touched the sink, hoping that would undo whatever weird physics was responsible for the unnatural cohesion of the cum-drop.

At a touch, the drop broke off. But it didn't change its size of cohesion. Instead, the whole thing began to move, throwing part of itself forward and dragging the rest behind it, like some kind of amoeba...and it was heading toward Lois.

"Oh fuck no," the reporter muttered dropping the bottle.

Her first instinct was to reach into a drawer and grab the nearest object at hand. She came up with a potato masher, briefly wondered when and how she'd even come to own such a thing, and then held it defensively in front of her. The cum-glob was climbing the stainless steel wall of the sink with ease, in that deceptively fast way it had.

There were no eyes on it, no features whatsoever. Lois felt like she was being menaced by a hunk of animate pudding. Man-pudding, that was. A chill ran down the reporter's spine as she thought about what that could potentially do. Her thighs pressed together as though it was battering at her gates already, teeth chattering a little.

Maybe I should trap it, she thought. Then I could call for help. Alternately, I could just smash it...