Prompt: Melting At The Thought Of Her

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Summary: A couple encounters new challenges with their relationship when the guy begins to suffer from a state of semi-solidity. Commissioned by Maria Mash as a Patreon reward for the month of January 2022.

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The county fair was in full swing, and the jubilant light fixtures that illuminated the night-time sideshows and midway games dazzled the crowds. Excited chatter, bells, whistles, and laughter could be heard wherever they went.

Not to mention he'd get plenty of opportunities to show off his skills at the midway games. It really was the perfect date spot to take Hannah out to, Ryan noted to himself with a satisfied smirk. He gave himself a pat on the back... well, mentally at least. Good choice for a pair of twenty-somethings with a lust for life and money to burn.

"Mm, I love the weird shit you can buy over by the vendors!" Hannah cooed, taking a big bite out of her deep-fried ribwich on a stick. "Mm, nn, boy they'll batter and fry anything, huh?"

"No better place to slash a couple years off your lifespan." Ryan smirked, taking an exaggerated bite of his taffy. "How's the ribwich?"

"Mm, lil tough. Delicious! But I don't think you're supposed to deepfry ribs." Hannah cocked her head. "Is that taffy 'the most magical food you've ever had'?"

She signalled this with rather pronounced air quotes. Ryan glanced back at his sweet treat.

"Mmneh." He shrugged noncommittally and scarfed the last mouthful down. "S'alright." He gulped. "Not sure I'd call it 'magical'."

They gabbed along the way as they finished their meals, eager to return later once they worked up their appetites again. Until then, they were back at the array of sketchy-looking games, ready to test their luck and skill.

"Back for another go?" Hannah turned to Ryan, then followed where his eyes were looking. She grimaced. "Oh no, don't tell me..."

Ryan looked over the tallest of the games: the high striker, a test of strength that was a staple in every carnival. Ryan rolled up his sleeves.

"This one's easy, girl," he scoffed. "It's all skill, with just a smidge of muscle~"

"You're not gonna grouse too much when you lose, right?" Hannah folded her arms.

"Positive thoughts!" Ryan cheered. "Hey, I'm winning this for you, right?"

"I guess," Hannah shrugged with a wry grin. She gestured her head. "Go get me the big t-rex."

Ryan saluted, hurrying over, shuffling around in his pocket for a fistful of Washingtons to hand to the teenage attendant; he nodded his head towards the heavy hammer on the ground. He rubbed his palms together to psyche himself up a bit...

Squeak squeak squeak squeak...

"...?" Ryan hesitated slightly as he stood over the hammer, looking over the palms of his hands. The sound they made sounded like rubbing two balloons together. And upon closer inspection, they had a strange shine and smoothness to them, the light from the sun reflecting off his palms.

He shrugged, figuring his palms were sweaty or something; after mentally playing the remainder of an Eminem verse in his head, he clutched the shaft of the hammer with both hands and heaved.

"Hup!" He immediately went for an arcing swing strike, letting the pendulum arc of the hammer soar over his head for a head-on strike! His body tingled with power and exertion with the dramatic, showy display.

Thunk.

Aaaaaand he missed. No telltale sign of the spring mechanism going off, no satisfying metal clang, and certainly no bell ringing. He smirked mildly to himself; he didn't honestly expect to win, but he did want to make his girlfriend laugh with a silly, showy display; his swing technique was objectively awful.

He glanced over to her with a knowing smirk, expecting to find her laughing her head off. Instead... he was surprised to find a look of abject horror crossing her face.

"Ryan!?" She pointed with a trembling finger. "Your arms...!"

"...eh?" Ryan blinked. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he traced the sensation of his arms. There was a pressure at his wrist, and the sensation of touching... something. He looked forward...

"GUH!?"

He let out a shocked, guttural noise as he witnessed the sight of his own arms, stretched out like noodles across the ground. They twisted bonelessly across the ground in ropey lengths, twice, maybe three times their regular length.

He tried to jerk his body back, but they tugged, stretching further—he moaned as his arms rippled with energy, his body creaking as he tried to back away, but his hands were wedged underneath the hammer! He wailed in surprise, his sneakers scuffing against the ground.

Hannah hurried forward, grabbing him by the shoulders to tug him away, not noticing how her tight grip sunk into his shoulders, leaving hand-shaped indentations. She wrested him away, his hands finally slipping free of the hammer's weight as she pulled him behind a stall, his arms dragging behind him, writhing all the while.

"H-holy crap, I can barely move my arms at all...!" He hissed in shock as they retreated to the relative privacy of the stall. Hannah spotted his trailing arms and bent over to try and roll his arms into a pile, shoving them into his chest.

"Ryan, what's happening??" She whispered, pressing close to him. "You didn't tell me you had... superpowers...!"

"I don't! I didn't? I don't know what this is about!" He babbled, unsure what the hell was going on.

"Can't you reverse this??" Hannah begged, trying to shove his arms back against him; she was pressed up close to him so that he could feel her breath, her body heat. He knew she was trying to shelter him from the gawking eyes of the crowds, but a different feeling welled up inside of him.

His legs trembled as a hot feeling penetrated his chest, quickly spreading to the rest of his body. He moaned, his thighs squishing together. He felt sweaty, droplets rolling down his limbs and cheek; he tried to touch his face with one of his wobbly limbs, finding that his skin had a sticky, tacky quality to it.

"H-Hannah it's... hot..." He slurred, slumping to the side. His hand fell to the side, his hand stretching his cheek like gum, or caramel, or some other similar confection...

"S-stay with me Ryan!" She cried, trying to shake him awake.

Shplort.

...But this was counterproductive; she found herself gripping two flesh-hued globules of slime, wrested from his shoulders as he slumped over backwards. His clothes sprawled across the ground as he melted before her, spreading across her shoes and across the stony-ground.

He burbled indistinctly, slurring something that Hannah didn't understand. She watched with horror as the mass spread across the ground in a flesh-coloured pile, bubbling. She reached down to touch the puddle of ooze Ryan left behind. It was still warm, pulsing... she could feel a heartbeat, even now.

"H-he's alive..." She muttered to herself, astonished. Hunched over, she glanced back, obstructing the view from the main walkways with her body. She had to help Ryan get out of here, and somewhere safe.

She eyeballed a large plastic bag next to one of the carnival game stalls, one used for wrapping grand prizes in. She rushed to grab it, before returning to Ryan.

"This might be a tight squeeze..." She tensed her fingers and, with handful after handful, scooped the goopy mess of Ryan into the bag.

Ryan's panic had subsided to a blissful haze, the contents of his liquified form stirring along the ground. The sensations of Hannah touching him, caressing him was so gentle, like a full body massage. And she gawked at the smooth, mud-like texture of her boyfriend, the indistinct sounds he made when she touched him... was he giggling? He had always been ticklish.

This was too freaky to be laughing about, she concluded. She closed the plastic bag, looking over its contents quickly—a slurry of Ryan—before getting on her knees to pull him together. Rustling his pliable form proved to be deceptively challenging; he would simply ooze through her fingers, running through it like a slurry, partly sticking to her fingers before peeling off and rejoining his mass.

She ultimately tried to roll him up into a ball, compressing him with an emphatic series of grunts, before stuffing him in her backpack and sprinting off.