A Slime's Hunger

Giselle scrambled backward, heart racing, as she stared at her changed limbs. Horror and fascination clashed within her as she watched the slime reshape, her fingers reforming into their usual shape, but now with an unusual, almost otherworldly sheen. It took a moment for her to realize what had happened: she had eaten a cursed fruit, a Devil Fruit, and in doing so, she had gained a power unlike anything she'd ever dreamed of.

This new ability terrified her at first. Her body no longer felt entirely solid, and the lingering bitterness of the fruit made her stomach churn as if it were trying to reject the transformation. But as the initial shock faded, she realized that this strange new form had its advantages. She could stretch her arms, slip through tight spaces, and her limbs, while strange, felt resilient, indestructible even.

Giselle sat trembling, staring at her transformed hands, still unable to fully comprehend what she had become. Her body felt foreign, strange, as if she were an imposter within her own skin. She attempted to control the pink slime that now composed parts of her limbs, focusing on willing them back to their usual solid form. Slowly, the strange substance obeyed, retracting and reforming into something that looked like her old hands. But the feeling of wrongness lingered, as though she had merely covered up something unnatural.

The taste of the fruit still lingered in her mouth, bitter and vile, as if to remind her of the price she had paid for this bizarre transformation. She coughed, hoping to expel the unpleasant taste, but it was as though it had fused with her, as much a part of her now as her heartbeat.

Cautiously, Giselle began to experiment with her new abilities. She extended her arm, focusing on the sensation, willing it to stretch. To her amazement, her hand elongated, her fingers stretching and twisting with an elasticity that defied reason. She could extend her arm across the room, her fingers slipping under door cracks or around corners. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

She moved her hand toward a small, cracked mirror one of the older kids had scavenged from a junkyard. She needed to see what she looked like, to confront the transformation head-on. Staring back at her was a pale face, her golden eyes wide with fear and fascination. Her skin had taken on a faint sheen, and her reflection looked almost ghostly, as though she were fading between reality and something else.

As she reached out to touch the mirror, her fingers slipped into a gelatinous state, spreading across the glass before retracting, solidifying once again. She shuddered. This power was both a gift and a curse, something that might save her from the constant hunger she faced, but it also marked her as something... other. Something that didn't belong.

Days passed, and Giselle kept her new abilities a secret from the other street kids, hiding in the shadows whenever she felt the strange tingling that heralded her transformations. She didn't want them to see her as a monster, and, truthfully, she didn't fully understand the extent of her powers. But as she grew more accustomed to them, she discovered something else—something darker.

Her hunger had changed.

At first, she thought it was merely her usual starvation, a constant companion in her life. But this was different. She craved something beyond simple food, a strange, indescribable urge that grew each day. Normal food no longer satisfied her the way it used to. She could eat bread, fruit, even scraps of meat, but they tasted bland, empty, lacking in some crucial essence that her body now demanded.

One night, as she wandered the alleys looking for something, anything, to sate her hunger, she stumbled across a wounded bird, its wing broken, flapping feebly on the ground. Driven by impulse, she reached out to touch it, and in that moment, something extraordinary happened. Her hand shifted into slime, enveloping the creature, and before she could pull away, she felt a surge of energy as the bird disappeared into her hand. She gasped, horrified, but... satisfied. For the first time since eating the Devil Fruit, she felt truly full.

A flood of sensations rushed through her—a strange awareness, fleeting memories, instincts that weren't hers. She could almost feel the bird's heartbeat, its ability to fly, etched faintly into her consciousness. She stumbled back, breathing hard, both horrified and exhilarated. She had devoured it, absorbed its essence, and, in doing so, had taken something from it.

Giselle sat trembling, staring at her transformed hands, still unable to fully comprehend what she had become. Her body felt foreign, strange, as if she were an imposter within her own skin. She attempted to control the pink slime that now composed parts of her limbs, focusing on willing them back to their usual solid form. Slowly, the strange substance obeyed, retracting and reforming into something that looked like her old hands. But the feeling of wrongness lingered, as though she had merely covered up something unnatural.

Over the following weeks, Giselle realized that this was the true nature of her power. The Slime-Slime Fruit had given her the ability to absorb creatures, not just to consume them, but to incorporate parts of their abilities, their essence, into herself. It was a dark and dangerous gift, one that fed her hunger in a way that ordinary food could not.

The children she lived with began to notice changes in her. She moved more gracefully, sometimes slipping out of sight so quietly they wouldn't notice her leave. Her eyes gleamed with a new intensity, and she seemed to carry herself with an otherworldly confidence. Yet she avoided them more and more, fearing what might happen if her hunger grew beyond her control.

One night, a storm hit Sakura Island, and the alleyways flooded with rain. Giselle found herself alone in the abandoned building, her hunger gnawing once more. She ventured out, slipping through the rain-soaked streets, her body instinctively blending with the shadows, her slime form allowing her to mold to the contours of walls and slip unnoticed under the awnings of closed shops. She felt a strange thrill at the freedom her power granted her, but it was tinged with an ever-present dread.

She came across a stray cat huddled in a corner, its fur matted and wet. Her stomach growled again, and her hand extended toward the creature, transforming into a pink slime that wrapped around it. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt—she was absorbing its vitality, its very essence, pulling it into herself. When she drew her hand back, the cat was gone, and Giselle felt a strange warmth spreading through her veins, an alertness that hadn't been there before.

She stumbled back, shivering, realizing the depth of her power. She could absorb the abilities of anything she devoured. This power, as horrifying as it was, would allow her to survive. But it would also isolate her, set her apart, turn her into something far removed from the other children she called friends.

Rumors drifted through Sakura Island like wisps of smoke, barely noticeable at first, but eventually thickening, spreading from person to person.

As her powers grew, rumors spread. Whispers of a girl with unnatural abilities who prowled the streets at night, her form shifting, her eyes gleaming with an eerie pink glow. The island's guards became more vigilant, searching for the creature in the shadows. Giselle had become a myth, a slimy figure haunting the alleys of Sakura Island.

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Back in her cell, chained and weakened, Giselle chuckled bitterly, the sound echoing softly off the damp stone walls. The memories of her misfortune, the twisted path that led her to this dark prison, played through her mind like a cruel joke. All of it had started from that single, stolen fruit, an act of desperation that had set her life on an irreversible path. She had once been a girl in the alleys of Sakura Island, a creature of rumors and whispered fear. But it wasn't her strange powers that ultimately brought ruin to her life. It was someone else.

Nico Odile.

As she thought back to her final days of freedom on Sakura Island, she remembered the mysterious woman she had once risked her life to protect—a woman who had come to her island like a storm and left it in ashes.

I hope she found peace living with her daughter. Now, what was the name she picked? Odette? No... Olivia? Not that one either. It certainly began with an 'O'... Oh, Olvia? Yes, that's it. Olvia.