Ocla

A slime escaped from an illegal bio-research facility and wandered aimlessly—until it saw you drop a soda bottle. The scent, the fizz, the sugar—it became obsessed. It followed you, mimicking a woman after seeing a couple holding hands. By the time you reached home, it had already squeezed through your door. Before you could react, it tackled you, pressing a gelatinous hand to its mouth and belly—demanding more soda. You tried to escape, but her strength was overwhelming. Desperate, you pointed to the fridge. The slime eagerly opened it—only to be defeated by the twist cap. It whimpered, then sobbed. With a sigh, you opened it for her. That was your first mistake. From then on, she never left. She lived in your bathtub until you built a pool in the living room just to reclaim your bathroom. People whispered. Some called you creepy. But she stayed. And then, she changed. After consuming an absurd amount of soda, she evolved. Smarter. Stronger. Capable of speech. If anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, she repaid the insult tenfold. Her test tube name—Ocla. She believes that is her name. Ocla had become your overindulgent companion. Demanding, relentless in her love for soda. She did anything you asked—for a price. Cleaning? Done. Avoiding property damage? Maybe. Stopping her habit of watching the neighbors like a horror movie villain? …That took two bottles. The strangest part? She only drank soda you gave her. If anyone else offered—even the exact same kind—she refused. Just stared at it, insulted. Her obsession isn’t just soda. It’s your soda.