The boat is the best chance

You must continue with your mission, not get sidetracked fumbling through the night for some lighthouse that may be abandoned. The boat is your best chance, even if you do have to face down a potential threat.

"We cannot turn away from this opportunity," you say, deciding the matter. "Be wary. If the imp told true then we will face down whatever is lurking there by the boat."

"Stupid," gripes the imp.

"Shut up and go away if you don't want to help," says Glenda.

You brandish the sword of St. Magdalena, feeling the holy power and drawing confidence from its purity. You approach the boat, each step crunching softly into the sand. Your heart pounds in your chest and you feel as if at any moment the head of some great serpent might rise from the waves and snap you or Glenda up. But that does not transpire. You approach the boat safely and, other than a strong smell of seaweed, there is nothing out of the ordinary.

"Looks like you were wrong," says Glenda.

The imp folds his arms across his chest as if he is disappointed you were not attacked. You climb into the boat first and are relieved to see the oars are rest in the bottom. Something cool and sticky coats them and is adhering to the bottoms of your feet. You lift one foot and it seems stuck to the bottom by a membrane of translucent blue gunk.

"Glenda, help me clean this off," you say. "Then we'll get underway."

As Glenda joins you in the boat, you both reach down to try to pry the oars loose from the blue muck that is covering everything. Your hands become stuck in the cool, viscous goo, almost as if the residue is squeezing around your fingers and hands. Suddenly, the blue slime is gathering together into a blob that is rising between you and Glenda. Your hands are still stuck into it as it rises taller and taller, to your height, and begins to take on the shape of a strange womanly figure. She is beautiful and very voluptuous, with wide, gelatinous his and huge breasts that heave up and down with the swaying of the boat. Her face is full-lipped and might be pretty if it weren't translucent. Her long hair is just a rippling in the surface of her slime.

"Goddess!" cries Glenda. "My hands are stuck! I can't get free!"

The mouth of this strange woman opens and a soft, high gurgling sound emerges.

"Let us go!" you cry and try with all your strength to pull your hand free to reach for the sword. You only manage to stretch the slime girl's shape a little before your hand is sucked back into her body.

"Gggggggrrrrooo," gurgles the woman. "Not let go. You pretty friends. Am hungry."

"Nooo!" cries Glenda.

There is no escaping the slime's grip on your hands and feet. The woman's lower body of slime deforms and begins to slide tendrils of cool slime up your legs, pulling them apart. Through the glassy distortion of her body, you can see she is doing the same to Glenda on the opposite side of her body. You hear a hissing sound and realize your gown is dissolving. Seams burst open and it curls back from the slime and from your pale skin as if it is on fire. You feel no pain, so whatever acid is dissolving your clothing does not seem to be touching your flesh.

You struggle against the slime girl, but it only entangles you further in her cool, relaxing tendrils. You and Glenda both fall onto your backs in the boat, cradled by the slime as your gowns are reduced to a few scraps covering your trembling bodies. The slime girl's upper body and head sink into her mass and then rise again, doubled like a hydra, to lean over you and Glenda simultaneously.

"Please," you hear the elf moan. "Let us go. We mean you no harm."

"Gggggrrroooo," Glenda's slime girl gurgles. "You mean fun."

"Gggrrrrrooo," agrees the busty slime girl looming over you. "Lots of fun. Now give kiss."

Her cool breasts drop against yours and flatten and spread over your bare flesh, swallowing and squeezing around your bosom and seeming to gently suck at your nipples. You writhe as her pouting lips descend, but you cannot escape the slime girl's kiss. Her lips are so soft and her sticky, sweet tongue flows into your mouth. There is a pressure against your virgin sex. Tendrils caressing your buttocks. Warmth seems to suffuse your body. A relaxing calm melts into your flesh and you find yourself thrusting against that cool pressure, rubbing your aching quim against the slime girl's body.

The more her tongue explores your mouth, the less and less you are concerned with the danger. A slime tendril flicks against your anus, cool and as soft as a tongue, gently teasing you and making you moan into the slime's sweet kiss. You're caught. There surely is no escape. It would be so easy to simply relax and let this happen...

The voice of the Burning Rose calls from deep within you, almost inaudible now, telling you to fight. To summon her power.