I wasn't going to post this here. I was going to let it stay on deviantart and Y!Gallery. I was going to let Vlad keep some measure of his pride.

Ffft. Yeah right.

This is part of the Through Danny Phantom collection. I asked SapphireSwimming to keep it out of the main collection because it's technically a result of the preshow movie Ghostbusters II. That and it's porn. Poooooorn. I blame Tangerine Catnip and everyone else in the livestream chat for this.

This story is rated M for tentacles, slime, and more tentacles.


October 1995...

It was market day in the Ghost Zone. The space and rocks around Pariah's Keep teemed with unlife. Merchants flew in from all over the dimension to hawk their wares, their collections and trophies, those objects they could smuggle in from the world of the living. Anything could be found here among the stalls and shops. Even the smallest patch of carpet holding the barest selection of merchandise held treasures the likes of which would never be found again. Anything and everything from ancient and venerable tomes to missing left socks could be bought for the right price.

Vlad Plasmius flitted through the market, only barely listening to the din of voices around him hawking wares, haggling prices, shouting about thieves, telling tales about the human world... He passed by a great glass hookah surrounded by ghosts all clad in purple robes, multicolored smoke curling from their mouths as they passed around the pipe. A night hag meandered through the middle of the path, her chain of glowing skulls gibbering behind her. Ghostly children ran around chasing the skeleton of a dog. A hulking beast sold stinking strips of rotting flesh on skewers to a line of hungry customers.

Finally Vlad came across what he was looking for. The book seller was currently occupied with a customer who didn't look as though he could pay for all the books he was trying to cart off. Vlad took the opportunity to sort through the completely unorganized pile.

Oh this was interesting... Vlad found a book that he'd never seen before. "Serpent Cults of the Antediluvian Age," he mumbled, reading the title aloud. He flipped open the book, squinting and turning it upside-down in order to make sense of its mind-bendingly weird table of contents. This... might prove useful... He turned to a promising page and began to read.

Vlad was snapped out of his reading by the strike of a rod against his head. He glared at the shopkeeper who merely brandished his yardstick. "You're as bad as the Ghostwriter," the shopkeeper growled. "Insistin' on readin' before you pay! How dare you."

Vlad snapped the book closed. "Very well then," he said. "Have you read this?"

"I... tend to stay out of the affairs of Yig, iffn you catch my meanin'."

"I'm sure the Rainbow Serpent appreciates that," Vlad said dismissively before naming a price. They haggled for a few minutes before settling on a final cost. Vlad reached into his cape and pulled out his payment. A copper bracelet, a silver spoon, a snake skin, and a couple of chicken bones were dropped into the merchant's gloved hand.

"A pleasure doin' business with you, Loa," he said. Vlad made a dismissive noise and tucked the book into his cape. The book vanished, lost to space and time until called upon again.

Vlad wandered the stalls. Within a locked paddock several black horses could be seen, their manes aflame as they pawed at the rock with iron hooves and snorted brimstone past fanged maws. Several little girls leaned over the railing of the paddock holding treats out for the demon-horses, trying to lure them close so they could pet their fiery manes and velvety noses. One reared up and screamed, a piercing roar that echoed through the market.

The strange feeling of a clawed hand at his cape pricked Vlad's attention. He whirled around and caught the would-be pickpocket by the wrist. A quick glance brought its leather cloak, cloven hooves, wild hair, and its veiled mask to his eyes. Ah, no wonder... Vlad flipped the thief born of Leng over his shoulder and followed it with an ectoblast.

"Hey, Plasmius! Yeah, you with the human-suit! We don't want your kind here..."

Vlad sighed, feeling supremely put-upon. It never failed... It seemed every time he came to the market something like this... He turned around to face whatever small-minded ghost wanted to be deconstructed today.

He stared for a moment before he burst out laughing. The entire Ghost Zone knew about this one. He'd failed to conquer the mortal realm in his life and failed again in his death, defeated by a bunch of humans with tanks of base ectoplasm. The ghost equivalent of being taken down by kids with squirt guns. "What is it today, hmm?" Vlad taunted. "On a castle of skulls on a mountain of pain you sat on a throne of, what was it, delusions? Inadequacies? Couldn't even possess a baby..."

Vigo the Carpathian growled. The crowd around them had formed a careful circle, not wanting to get in the way but also not willing to miss this.

"You should have found someone to write a better contract," Vlad said, grinning smoothly. "A rakshasa, a bokor, even a mortal lawyer. I know a guy..."

Vigo rose to the bait, firing the first shot. Vlad dodged, his cape flaring behind him. He raised his own hands to fire off a shot.

There were rules to these marketplace duels. Ectoblasts only. No duplication, no core involvement, no complex ectoplasmic manipulation. Other than that, though, fighting dirty was encouraged. Which is why Vlad should not have been surprised when reality rent itself asunder and grasping tendrils of slime reached out to grab him.

Should not have been surprised, anyway. One foot was grabbed and tethered before it began to pull him down. More and more tendrils wrapped around him, imprisoning him in a cocoon of bright pink ectoplasm. "Couldn't think of anything else, could you?" Vlad mocked. "So do you even have any other tricks?"

Vigo tried to ignore him, instead using his fingers to guide where and how the slime should engulf this... contractual abomination. Still, his eye twitched as Vlad's words pricked and poked at his pride. The ghosts swirling around them jeered and taunted, adding to Vlad's taunts.

"I bet you don't," Vlad purred. "I bet your entire plan for New York was just to flood it all with slime and hope everyone drowned. It's easy to conquer a city when you think you're the biggest fish in it. But you're not. You still would have failed. Stomped by a hundred foot melted marshmallow man... Although something tells me you would have enjoyed that, sticky marshmallow goo surrounding you as thoroughly as your precious slime..."

Vigo snarled, letting lose a blast of paralyzing power. He relished the arch of the half-breed's spine as every human muscle in its form tensed and froze. Ah, possession, it was such a weakness to those who relied on it...

The crowd did not take kindly to the rules of engagement being so blatantly broken. They advanced as Vlad twitched in annoyance. This... was not his plan. No, he'd been planning on weakening the ghost's hold over his slimy minions or whatever this stuff was before pummeling him into submission. Still... As ghosts advanced on Vigo he couldn't doubt the effectiveness. The slime lost the control of its master as he was suddenly occupied.

Chaos reigned as the blasts of a budding turf war spread into the market, sending everyone and everything scattering. Vlad broke free of his slimy prison and shot off to his home portal as fast as his mind could take him. This was not a battle he felt the need to join.


Ugh. Today had been unexpectedly long. What was supposed to be a quick excursion to the Ghost Zone to pick up a few rare books ended up ruined by a ghost too incompetent to even possess a baby. And he still hadn't managed to find the one book he was looking for! Maybe they had all been burned...

No matter. At least he'd found something. Vlad reached into his cape to pull out his prize.

"Oh ugh!" he exclaimed. The extradimensional space beneath his cape was full of pink slime. He pulled off his cape and shook it. Out dropped everything he'd been carrying: his new book, a small bag of various coins and precious stones, a dried lizard's tail, an iron throwing ax, a top hat, and a live black rooster. The chicken ran off, wings flailing as it clucked in fright. Once all that fell out his cape began to drip.

Vlad scowled and tossed his cape off into the corner. He took human form and gathered up those stationary things that had fallen from his cape. The chicken could wait.


Morning dawned rudely with the sound of a cock's crow. Vlad's eyes shot open and he groaned into the open pages of the book he'd been reading. Oh butterscotch, he was still trying to build his image here, he did not need curious neighbors wondering why in hell the weird entrepreneur down the street was keeping a rooster. He needed to find that bird and stick it back in his cape.

Vlad yawned and stretched before heading down to his basement lab. The lab door swung open, creaking slightly as it always did. Vlad stepped inside.

His foot slid a bit as he took in the scene around him. Something... was very wrong here... Thin trickles of pink ectoplasm dripped and dribbled down the walls, pooling on the floor. Puddles lurked under the lab benches, all beginning to wiggle and move as light hit them. Vlad watched in fascination as they curled together in the middle of his lab, growing into one large mass. Something drew him toward it, that fascination morphing into an absurd desire to poke it, touch it, something, anything...

That draw broke as it reached for him, its tendrils thickening into tentacles that wrapped around his wrists and dragged him in.

He opened his mouth to scream. The sound didn't get that far as a tentacle was shoved down his throat, cutting off his voice. Slimy tentacles grasped and pulled at his clothing, sliding underneath and ripping it off piece by piece. He struggled, eyes glowing red with the effort as he tried phasing, blasting, thrashing, anything to get free from these grasping tendrils that wrapped themselves around his arms and legs, slid over his bare chest, teased down into the waistband of his pants.

He went tense and still at that feeling. Oh hell no... A moment of dread was all he allowed before forcing anger back to the forefront and struggled anew. The tentacles pricked and prodded at the buttons, deftly slid wool and silk down Vlad's hips, before seeming to give up and just ripping the fabric completely away. Slimy trails meandered all over Vlad's torso and down his legs as tentacles grabbed him by the ankles and forced his legs wide.

Vlad kicked hard, slipping one leg out of its slimy grasp. He slammed his legs back together as he struggled. The tentacles clutched him tighter, wrapping around his torso to hold him. Their little slimy ends trailed up and down his sides before sliding up to circle around his nipples. A shriek was muffled by the tentacle stuffed in his mouth.

The tentacle still wrapped around an ankle held fast as more slid up his legs to wrap around his thighs. He kicked, trying to resist, to get free, anything, but still tendrils squeezed tight around his legs and pulled them apart. He clamped his eyes closed as he felt the tip of a probing tentacle slide up his thigh as though seeking something.

Dread filled his mind. Somehow Vlad had an idea of what it was looking for.

He felt the tip find his anus and tickle at the puckered flesh it found there. His eyes shot open and he arched back with a gurgled scream as it slid inside.

The world went dark for a moment. Wet sloshing filled his hearing and all he could feel was warm slime caressing him from the inside out. He shook his head and the world slowly came back into focus. He was bound in tentacles made of translucent pink ectoplasm, its tendrils wrapped all around his wrists, his thighs, his chest. Surprisingly delicate tips plucked at his nipples, drawing them into eager peaks. A thick tentacle was pressed up inside him, sliding in and out as he found his hips rising up and down to meet it. His mouth fell open and he took great gasps of air as the tentacle gagging him pulled out and slid around his head to pull his hair out of its bindings. He arched back and groaned, blood rushing to his face as he felt his body respond against his will.

He didn't want this. Right?

A tendril wrapped itself around his growing erection and slid up and down his length, boiling away the weakening protests that bubbled in Vlad's mind. He thrust up into its grasp, feeling the tentacle in his ass slide out. He whined at the loss, a whine that turned to a renewed shriek as a new one took its place and shoved itself in perhaps a little too fast. Vlad wiggled, trying to press it deeper inside as he thrust up into the tendril's grasp.

A strange rhythm evolved as he pressed back into the tentacle impaling him then arched up into the one stroking him. Through it all those eager little tips trailed along his thighs, up his chest, down his arms, played with his nipples, tugged at his hair...

He gave a delighted shriek as another tentacle joined the one stuffed up his ass. A third entered as well, stretching him wide. He leaned into it and moaned, his eyes drifting shut. He couldn't imagine not wanting this. He never wanted it to stop...

The tendril on his cock squeezed him in a way that had him screaming. The tip tickled at his slit, spreading it open and probing at the inside.

It was all too much. He arched back and came, spurting white semen all over the tendril that stroked him, kept stroking him. Through lust-hazed vision he couldn't tell where his cum ended and all the slime began. It all looked the same...

One tentacle slid out of him then another. The last one stroked his prostate, making him twitch and moan before it slid out as well. Tentacles that held him in bondage loosened as he collapsed, sinking bonelessly into their embrace. He didn't want to move. He didn't care what happened. He didn't think he could move.

But he had to try. He slapped a slimy hand on the floor of the lab and slowly pulled himself away from the mass of tentacled ectoplasm that felt... contented? Yes, that was what it felt like. Satisfied.

Exhausted, sore, slimy... Vlad Masters half crawled, half slid out of his lab. He lifted himself up to his knees, legs still too shaky to stand. From there he was able to close the lab door before collapsing back onto the floor. He laid there, chest heaving.

That... could have been a lot worse.

He held a hand up where he could see it and spread his fingers. Slime stretched like a disgusting webbing between his fingers, dripped down his arms, coated him in a pinkish sheen. He really needed a bath.

Maybe later. Right now he was too busy giggling, the half-mad laughter of the disturbed slowly morphing into something more real. Actually, he felt pretty good.

The gentle sound of soft clucking drew him from his reverie. Ah, yes, the rooster. It looked at him curiously before crowing right at him. Vlad swatted out a slimy arm to grab the chicken, flinging pink goo all down the hallway as the chicken ran off.

Bah. He'd capture it later. Right now he needed to just lie here. Lie here and giggle.