You suddenly inhale sharply as something prods your belly. Looking down, you see a single round tendril of goo curiously poking and prodding away at your abdomen. "Ha-hay! Stop tha-hat!" You giggle, squirming as the relentless pokes become more numerous and insistent. Another tentacle rises up out of the slime, and starts dragging its narrow tip along your abs, working up to your ribs, just exerting enough force for you to feel it throught your scales, setting your nerves ablaze.
Unconsciously, you suck in your belly to avoid the continuing explorations of the first slimy thing. Your ribbs stick out against your hard skin, and the second feeler brushes over these next, but abruptly changes to prodding rather than stroking. It lingers on each and every intercostal muscle between the ribbs, poking in hard-not uncomfortably, but still sending all your nerves to tingling.
Still more start to rise form the substance as you watch, struggling helplessly against the intensifying tickles, causing ripples to shudder across the surface of your bizarre restraints. One reaches up to the clawed toes on your right foot, and you can feel it tightening around the digits and pulling back. Three surprisingly hard limbs begin scratching methodically on the large sole, and your leg spasmes reflexively as you desperately attempt to avoid the feelings surging through it. Several other feelers now work away at relentlessly kneading all your ribs, while a pair proceed to start scratching hard at your underarms, similar to the treatment both your hapless feet are undergoing by now. "Ahahahahaha! Sthohhop! Help-Hahahaha! St-hoo-hop!" You shriek, as you are almost barried beneathe the waves of horrible tentacles. It seems that no area you weren't already wearing clothes on reamians unscathed, as the electrifying sensations shoot down your nerves from every angles, rebounding and travelling to the farthest points of your frantically writhing body.
You slowly go hoars,e and are almost completely exhausted when you realize your struggles are starting to have an affect. You manage to get your arms and wings free, than your torso. As you tear yourselfe out of the defeated trap and onto safer ground, you realize that your sweat must dillute or dissolve the slime, and are glad that whoever designed the thing must have had some mercy-or more likely didn't realize the flaw. Slowly recuperating, you think of your next plan of attack.
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