"GET IT OFF OF ME!" Finn screamed.
The slime clung to his chest, jiggling back and forth like it was trying to grind its way into an R-rated anime adaptation.
He stumbled toward Majestria, arms flailing. "HELP ME!"
She backed away like he was a biohazard. "NO! DON’T COME NEAR ME WITH THAT THING!"
"THEN GET IT OFF ME!"
"NO! I’LL CATCH SOMETHING!"
Finn looked down—his hoodie was slowly dissolving. The slime oozed something wet and shiny, its body vibrating with... unsettling joy.
His eyes widened in horror. "IT’S—IT’S NUTTING?! WHAT IS THIS—"
A shiver shot down his spine. His knees buckled. "AAAHHHH! OH MY GOD IT’S VIOLATING ME!"
He ran toward her in panic. She screamed.
"STAY BACK! I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE GOOED ON!"
Finn clawed at the slime, trying to rip it off, but it clung tighter—making moist, slapping bloop sounds that echoed like a pervert’s playlist.
A slimy piece flew off mid-flail and hit Majestria’s dress.
Her voice dropped an octave. "My dress..."
She stared at the stain. Her hands began to glow with golden, divine fury. Her eyes burned brighter than her self-esteem.
She sucker-punched him straight in the gut. Both he and the slime were launched backward like a combo finish in Super Smash Bros.
He hit the cave floor with a grunt. The slime jiggled proudly on his chest.
Majestria marched toward him like divine wrath incarnate.
"YOU LITTLE BLOP-FREAK!" she screamed, fist cocked. "HOW DARE YOU SQUIRT ONTO MY DRESS!"
And then she unleashed.
She pounded the slime like a father beating his child for not getting him a beer. "DISGUSTING! FILTHY! LITTLE! JELLY! DEGENERATE!"
One final divine uppercut—
The slime exploded in a glorious burst of goo.
Majestria stood over the mess, panting, covered in slime and vengeance.
"...Bastard," she muttered.
Finn coughed weakly, still curled up like a homeless person you’d see on the side of the road in New York. He groaned and held his stomach like that would somehow keep his soul from leaking out.
Majestria huffed, hands on her hips. "That’ll teach that despicable creature! Okay, Finn, let’s go."
She turned toward the cave entrance... and paused.
He was still lying there like roadkill with debt.
"What are you doing?! Get up! It’s morning—we need to move!"
’She’s crazy...’ Finn thought, wincing as he sat up like someone fighting gravity and a beat down at the same time.
He glanced down and frowned.
The entire front of his hoodie had been melted away, revealing the sad remains of his undershirt clinging to him like a depressed napkin.
"...My hoodie," he muttered, defeated.
"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off. "We don’t have time for your fashion trauma."
He bit his lip, tempted to clap back—but he didn’t feel like wasting precious oxygen. So, like any true man in emotional agony, he made fun of her silently in his head:
’Asshole. I’m starting to think your only real value is your looks and your ability to ruin my life.’
Using the cave wall for support, he got to his feet with all the grace of a hungover giraffe, shuffled over to the fire, slipped on his muddy shoes, and staggered toward the exit.
Sunlight hit his skin the moment he stepped out. Warm. Bright. Comforting.
For a single, fleeting second... life didn’t suck.
Then he realized Majestria wasn’t behind him.
She stood just inside the cave, arms crossed, scowling like a diva at a festival with no VIP section.
"What is it now?" Finn groaned.
"What do you mean ’what is it now’?" she snapped. "Do you not see how disgusting the ground is?"
Finn blinked. He looked down.
Sure enough, the storm had turned everything into a muddy swamp. The air was hot, thick, and somehow dryer than his dating life.
"So what?!" she gasped. "I’m not walking through that. I refuse to get my beautiful, divine feet muddy. It’s beneath me."
He muttered softly to himself. "Just... give me a break already."
Dragging his feet like a kid being forced back into school after summer break, Finn trudged back over to her.
"Well, Miss Goddess," he said flatly. "If you’re too good for mud, how exactly do you plan on getting out of here?"
She blinked. "...I-I don’t know."
Then she pointed dramatically. "You’re the one who dragged me into this mess! You owe me!"
Finn sighed. Deeply. Soulfully. Like a man slowly realizing this was his life now.
Without another word, he bent down, grabbed her by the waist, and threw her onto his back like a sack of entitlement.
Before he fully picked her up, he realized how surprisingly soft and smooth her skin was, without letting perverted thoughts take over. He shut his mind down with the thoughts.
His hands brushed against her bare legs.
Stupidly soft. Like she bathed in whipped cream and arrogance.
His fingers twitched slightly, brain sending emergency signals:
You are carrying a literal goddess. Keep it in your pants, soldier.
Finn clenched his jaw, shutting down the pervy spiral trying to spawn in his head.
He hoisted her up fully onto his back.
And of course, that’s when she adjusted slightly—arms wrapping around his neck, chest pressing lightly against his back, breath warm against his ear.
With her plumpy, big breasts pressed against his back, it felt like he was about to explode from wonder and sensation.
Finn’s soul short-circuited.
His knees almost buckled like a folding chair at a family BBQ.
’Focus. Focus. She’s not even wearing perfume, why does she smell like heavenly soap and subtle danger?!’
"Are you gonna drop me?" Majestria asked with a raised brow, completely unaware of the hormonal war raging behind his eyes.
"N-No," he coughed, straightening up with the strength of every suppressed thought. "You’re just... heavier than your attitude implies."
She smacked the back of his head. "Rude."
And with that, he trudged into the swampy mess of the world—carrying a goddess, a ruined hoodie, and the crushing weight of divine regret.