Three Sheets to the Wind, or Comforter
By Czolgolz
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She was gorgeous.  Twenty-two years old, short brown hair, and oh so slender.  Her name was Melissa.  I met her in the hotel bar, she was in town for some sort of an interview.  I could tell she wasn’t there to get picked up, she looked like she was ready to tell me to  piss off when I started talking to her.  But she was essentially a friendly person, and when I didn’t come on to strong, she warmed up.  We talked for three hours and six screwdrivers.  By the time the bar closed, I took the plunge.
“Listen, Melissa.  I have a hot tub up in my suite.  Would you like to come up and have a drink?”
It was obvious what I was after, and I never thought she’d agree.  But we all have our lucky nights.  She smiled.  “My swimsuit’s in my room.  What’s your room number?”
Excitedly, I dashed back to my suite, tidied both myself and my room up.  I turned on some soft music, poured some wine, and turned on the Jacuzzi heat.  While I was still uncertain she’d really come, I never gave up hope.
After twenty minutes there was a knock at my door.  I opened to find Melissa, barefoot, decked out in a bathrobe, her brown eyes smiling.
Wordlessly, she entered and accepted the proffered glass of wine.  In less than five minutes, we were sitting on the edge of my bed, kissing.
“I don’t normally do this,” she said.  “But something told me that this would be a night I’d never forget.”
Oh, how true that was.
Melissa suggested I change into my trunks and she’d slip into the tub.  She then removed her robe, revealing a body I’d never forget, and never see again.  She was wearing a small bandeau bikini that covered her pert little breasts.  Her legs were long, her stomach flat, her arms muscular.  She had a Celtic tattoo on her shoulder.  
“Stop staring, goofy,” she chided, and I disappeared into the bathroom.

After he left, Melissa sat down in the tub.  The tub was quite small, it seemed only big enough for one person.  Melissa giggled; maybe she’d just have to sit on his lap.  The spa was also empty, he had turned on the heater, but had forgotten to run the water.  The bench was very warm on her rear.  Melissa began to fiddle with the controls.  She couldn’t seem to find how to start the water.  
As she messed with the knobs, she felt the odd sensation that her feet were submerged in liquid.  When she looked down, she screamed.

The bathroom was soundproof, and with the radio on and the water running, I didn’t hear any noise Melissa might have made.  I washed my face, combed my hair, and changed into my trunks.  I couldn’t have been gone more than a few minutes.
When I returned to the room, I couldn’t have been more disappointed.  She was gone!  She’d left when I was in the bathroom.  I thought about going after her, but what would be the point?  Dejectedly, I sat on the bed and took another drink.  Then I noticed something.
Melissa’s robe was still hanging from the closet door.  Why would she leave that?  I looked around the room again, but still there was no one.  The hot tub was certainly bubbling, though.  When I went over to turn it off, I noticed something strange.
The tub was about half way full.  But not with water.  The bubbling liquid was not transparent.  It was tan…almost the color of skin.  Almost the color of Melissa’s skin.  It wasn’t thin like water either.  The liquid had the consistency of pancake batter.  What was going on here?  Had the tub malfunctioned?  Did Melissa have anything to do with this?
I turned the heat on the tub down, and the bubbling subsided, a bit.  Weird, impossible thoughts flickered through my mind.  For the longest time I was afraid to touch the liquid.  Finally, I submerged my hand.  
The stuff was warm.  But not warm like heated water.  Warm, like a human body.  Warm like human skin.  The liquid didn’t stick to me, it flowed off.  I took a taste.  A little salty, but not unpleasant.
I plunged my hand in again, and found something solid.  It was the top of Melissa’s bikini, still knotted in the back.  What was it doing here?  And wouldn’t she have had to untie it to remove it?  Further searching revealed the other half of her suit.
I began to pace.  It couldn’t have happened.  This was impossible!  I looked back at the Melissa-colored substance that filled the tub.  Could the perky brunette have actually melted in my tub?
“Melissa?” I asked.  A merry bubbling was my only answer.
This was too weird.  My date was now liquid!  What could I do?
The answer was nothing.  Anyone I told would think I was nuts.  Besides, maybe I was selling the situation short.  After a deep breath, I removed my trunks and submerged myself in what was left of Melissa.
Her warm essence flowed around every bit of my body.  I slid into her up to my neck.  The bubbling never stopped.  Nor did the warm sensation of being in a cocoon of female flesh.  Warm, soft, and totally surrounding me.  Smiling, I wrapped my hand around my member.

When I woke up the next morning, I was worried.  Melissa was still bubbling in her tub.  What to do now?  I couldn’t leave here there, but how could I take her with me?  I wondered how she felt about all this.  I got the weird impression she was still conscious of everything that was going on around her.  I had to do something for her.
After putting the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door, I drove to a hardware store and bought a length of plastic tube, and several gallon jugs.  Returning to the hotel, I slipped the tube into Melissa and began siphoning her off into the jugs.  It was strangely fun, though I must have accidentally swallowed several mouthfuls of her, getting the flow started.  I also couldn’t get every single drop, but what did that matter at this point?
All in all, she filled five and a half gallons.  I thought she’d use more.  Perhaps she partially evaporated overnight.  Gently, I loaded her into my car.  I then packed (making sure to bring her bathrobe and bikini with me) and drove home.
When I arrived home, I set the six jugs on my table.  I then noticed something frightening.  She was beginning to set!  Without the warmth of Jacuzzi, Melissa was becoming solid again.  Knowing I didn’t want her to maintain the shape of a few jugs forever, I had to act quickly.
I thought about trying to mold her into woman shape again, but I was no Michelangelo.  What form should she take?
Then it came to me.  After mopping off a section of kitchen floor, I poured all her bottles out.  She lay in a large, unshapen puddle.  Gently, with a clean, long handled paint roller, I smoothed her out, flatter, and flatter.  I’d then straighten her edges, and roller her again.  I must have done this for over an hour.  With each smoothing, Melissa became a little more rectangular, and a little more solid.
Finally, making sure her edges were perfectly even, I watched her take form.  She was now about ten feel long, five feet wide, and not a bad rectangle, if I do say so myself.
As she reformed, I noticed details come to light.  Small freckles and other details appeared in her skin.  Now that she was no longer a liquid, she really did look like a large piece of skin.  Carefully, I flipped her over.  Sure enough, her Celtic tattoo was visible, a little faintly, on what used to be her back.
Melissa was now a large blanket of skin.  She was still warm as human flesh.  When I blew on her, she’d get goose bumps.  After sending her through the washer and drier, I was ready for bed.
That was two months ago.  I sleep under her every night.  She’s warmer than any electric blanket, softer, and more comforting.  While not I use, I keep her folded nicely in the closet.
I can’t communicate with Melissa, of course, but I know she knows what’s become of her.  Becoming my comforter was probably not what she expected to do with the rest of her life, but at least she has a low-stress job.  I remember her telling me that it would be a night she’d never forget.  I know I won’t.


Epilogue:  

Six months after I met Melissa, I was back at the same hotel.  I was sure to reserve the same room as before.  I wasn’t sure why exactly I was here; surely I couldn’t be that lucky twice?  But lately I’d been thinking about other things.  Sheets, quilts, pillow cases, even curtains.
That night at the bar I spied two women sitting alone.  One was a large young woman, very freckled.  Her companion was a younger Japanese woman who must have just been out of high school.  From across the room, they noticed me and giggled.  Smiling, I approached their table.