The thing known as Catherine stretches seductively, or at least how the girl of 18 had thought was seductive. The illusion is perfect. Catherine’s still frying brain drives the Slime Mimic’s behavior to a point where the doppelganger is indistinguishable from the real thing. Even her own mother wouldn’t be able to tell them apart, at least until she was suddenly enveloped in melting acid goo. The Catherine thing made note to write her lonely mother a letter, inviting her to visit her, and her new husband at the farmstead at the first time she had a scheduled break from work at the bakery. It was a fine place to live, plenty of easy work, fine men to bed, and plenty of delicious food to eat.