16. Not Feeling Herself
Amy decides to be polite. Perhaps the owner is inside and will understand the situation. Perhaps Shannon is sick and incapacitated, and the owner is nursing her back to health. Amy begins thinking of hundreds of scenarios in which ringing the bell is an excellent idea, none of which result in her untimely demise. Sadly for Amy, none of those scenarios will come to pass.
Amy rings the bell, which lets out a tinny clang. There is a moment’s pause, then the floor disappears beneath her feet. Amy plunges into darkness. She falls what seems like miles, twisting through strange tunnels that she can’t make out the contours of. She passes cold, metallic hands scraping against her body, catching on her clothes. FWIP! FWIP! RIIIIP!
Suddenly Amy emerges into a dark room lit by flickering overhead fluorescent lights. She lands butt-first on some black-and-white tiles, then goes skidding and sliding forward across the room. After a few feet, she comes to a rest at a pair of brown cap-toe shoes. Amy’s eyes move slowly upward. Above the shoes are a pair of black slacks, quite loose. Above that, an ill-fitting white dress shirt cloaked in a long, dirty lab coat. Above that, the face of an elderly man with crazy hair, wearing a pair of black goggles.
“Ah, good, you’re here. Just in time. And already prepped for the operation, I see. I like your initiative.”
Amy glances down and discovers that the only things she is wearing are boots, socks, and a pair of white panties with red hearts on them. She quickly pulls her knees to her chest and scrunches in, trying to cover as much of her naked flesh as possible.
“No need for shame now, let’s get you on the operating table.” The man stoops down and reaches out to Amy. Amy feels a quick prick at her neck.
“What are you doing to m-“ Amy’s eyes roll back in her head and she collapses to the floor. Her world goes dark.
Amy feels groggy. The whole world is a blur, which gradually comes into focus. She seems to be on the floor, closer than she has ever been. She tries rolling over, but finds she can’t. She goes to move her arm, but her arm somehow doesn’t seem to exist anymore. She frantically tries to do anything, but all she can seem to manage is to move her eyes around. Her eyes have a range of movement she’s never experienced before. They can move 360 degrees in all directions. She finds herself trying to figure out how many degrees that is. 360 degrees times 360 degrees... As she starts doing the mental multiplication, she snaps out of it; she has more immediate concerns. Her vision focuses, and she can see that she appears to be lying in a puddle of viscous green slime, about three inches thick. In the distance, she sees a snatch of white-and-red cloth soaking in the slime.
“Well, that didn’t go as expected.” She turns her eyes to look at the voice. It’s the mad doctor. He seems to notice her movement. “Hello? Is that you? Can you blink?”
Surprisingly, Amy finds that she can. She does so.
“Okay, one blink yes, two blinks no. Can you hear me?” Blink. “Can you feel anything?” Blink blink. “Can you move?” Blink blink. “What’s two plus two?” Blink blink blink blink.
The doctor grows excited. “I’ve done it! I’ve created a new, intelligent life-form. Well, semi-intelligent. And, to be fair, I’ve really just converted one intelligent life-form to a considerably less functional one. But still! A net win for science!” He grabs a beaker and scoops Amy’s slimy remains up, along with her eyeballs and panties.
“This one goes on my success shelf!”
Amy is elevated high in the air, then placed on a shelf. There she sits, surveying the labs activities, reminiscing about her past life as a college student and wondering when she’ll get a new visitor up on the success shelf.
Amy is in no state to continue her adventure.