this is my first story thread here, so i hope y'all like it! the universe is more fantasy/d&d based, and it's centered around three characters of mine; ateah (a tabaxi), fitz (a kobold), and a slime character of which i haven't named yet. the story will be updated in parts as it continues, but this is just sort of the basis for how the three of them meet! i'm it in second person as an experiment in character development, so be aware. this first part doesn't involve much tickling, but the second (and maybe third?) part definitely will.
this story involves slime (obv), bondage, full-body tickling, and eventual (mild) orgasm delay/denial ( and overstimulation. if this isn't up your alley, proceed with caution!
Somewhere, in the far stretch of the Grove (hardly still considered in-bounds by then), there is a spot between a smattering of trees that is beautifully leveled. The grass is always well-trimmed, the creatures within this area seem to flourish. Lantern Beetles have made cozy homes in the flowers growing at the base of thick, tangle-rooted trees.
Nobody has any logical explanation as to why quite yet. Some have tried writing it off as the Grove’s subtle self-sustaining magic, while others have gone and tried to explore the chemical components of the soil to see if it has any relation. Neither party has found anything substantial to support their claims.
You, however, know the exact answer to this question. And it is just that. Just you.
You are… something, for sure. A sticky-but-smooth, soft orange mass of goo. And a fine one at that, thank you very much. Nobody has taken the liberty of giving you a title because you’ve hardly interacted with anyone worth adopting names from, though you've tried a slimeful of things thus far to see if they’d land. Dirt, Soil, and Pebble were among the top contenders, but all of them hit a little too close to the woodland theme for your liking. And as much as you love your home and all of the nutrients you get from the earth around you, you can’t help but feel stifled. It would be nice to stretch the ooze! Slither along one mycelial path to another, maybe, and find some other area to connect with.
Alas, your physiology doesn’t allow for that kind of exploration. In theory, anyway. You haven’t tried bipedaling it more than a few times, but the sensation of having two legs to walk on was far too strange to maintain. Maybe if someone had a.. a bucket, that you could schlop yourself into and have them carry around at their side. Or maybe if you wanted to maintain a more dense form, just get someone to stuff you in a backpack, allowing you to keep your ‘head’ out in the open to view the world around you.
…your fantasies about leaving always kind of put you in the position of Active Party’s Pet, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
And shit, you’ve been so lost in your idle fantasies and absorbing grass nutrients as you roll along the forest floor that you hardly noticed the vibrations coming up from underneath you. They were far too subtle at first, but now you can feel them trembling the displaced soil. Some petal sprites flit away in annoyance, which is a shame because some of the tinier ones make incredible desserts..
You would sigh at the loss of it, if you had lungs.
“..Fitz, it’s not even that big of a deal. I told you I would be fine, and I was fine!”
“You’re completely out of your mind! If ‘completely out of your mind’ meant ‘fine’ then, sure. But I feel like I must emphasize the fact that you really need to be more-”
“‘More calculated’, blah blah blah. It’s like we have the same conversation over and over because your speculations are kind of bullshit. Try working with me next time instead of giving suggestions you know aren’t going to land.”
One voice, slightly sweeter in tone but deeper in quality quips back at the second party member, who speaks in a tighter, more precise way. Like they were carefully picking the words in their mind before they spoke. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation so you’re missing some chunks, but they sound interesting. And you’ve always been a fan of interesting.
It’s been.. However long it’s been since you’ve last had someone walk into your stretch of the woods, so to speak. You imagine it will be longer still until someone else shows up.
Thus, you choose to seize the moment while you can. After all, curiosity only killed the quadruped. Nobody said anything about slimes.
Creeping to the edge of a thicker smattering of trees, you turn your attention to two figures walking down a trodden path of twigs and leaves. One a tabaxi, leather-clad with a knife holster squeezing her furred thigh, and the other a kobold, lithe in stature and wearing what could only be described as a very scholarly tunic. The tabaxi stood at around 5’10” in height, her feline features mimicking that of a more common variety of cat- orange tabby, maybe, with a mop of curly fur that she ties back in a tight bun. The kobold, on the other hand, barely reached her ribs at a pathetic 4’4”. What he lacked in height he rivaled in style at least, with rings and other jewelry adorning his purple skin. His reptilian features were pointed, angular, much like an anole. Soft white dots speckled his scales all the way down to the thin tail that curled around his ankle.
And, being the simple creature you are, you figure you should take the time to familiarize yourself with them as you normally would. Some might consider your approach abrasive, but it’s never harmful. You’ve also found that surprises are much more fun.
Oozing from where you are, you begin to puddle yourself out and onto the forest floor with ease, until you’re nothing but a translucent film over the leaves that create the path the two figures are walking on. Neither seem to notice, for now, which is exactly what you were hoping for. Your orange hues could easily pass for sunlight gleaming off of the path.
The tabaxi is the first to halt which does not surprise you. She seemed the sort to be curious, which is highlighted by the way her tail stiffens with interest. You were sort of hoping you’d be a little more subtle, sure, but this works too.
“..Ew,” she says (which is rude). “What do you suppose that is?”
Her head quirks to the left, presumably referring to her partner who is now bending at the knee to observe you. He reaches to push a pad of his scaled finger into your goo, which allows you to promptly latch onto the digit. Nothing too noticeable, and you stretch and release when he begins to pull his finger away. But for a moment- a brief, tantalizing moment- you could taste him.
That’s how it works. It’s your talent, your skill, tasting and absorbing and consuming with every cell of your being. It isn’t as if you planned on absorbing him for nutrients, no, he’s too big for your liking and would give you a slimeache. But that very brief taste was all you needed to decide that you wanted more. Much to your delight, the way his face scrunches up at your cold, sticky texture seems to tantalize the tabaxi into reaching her padded finger down as well.
She's much sweeter than him, but with an edge that you can't quite pinpoint yet. You linger on her for longer than you did the kobold, applying an almost light suction to the squishy-soft pink pad of her digit, making her curl her nose in disgust as she shakes you off of her paw.
"I don't think it's something we should be.. touching," says the kobold hesitantly. You heartily disagree. They should touch you much, much more.
"I mean, it feels weird, but I don't think it's harmful. You can just step over it." The tabaxi waves her paw dismissively, and turns to do just that. No, you think, which turns into a repeated mantra as the kobold begins to follow her lead. No, no, no, you wanted to have more time with them than this. And though you pride yourself on your composure most days, this is not going to fucking be one of them. You will not have such a delicious pair escape your gooey grasp quite yet.
Just as the tabaxi is about to step around your perimeter, you sneak a slimy bit of yourself around to stick just to the back of her heel. You make a similar move with the kobold, though neither of them notice until they attempt to take another step, only to find their ankles have been very delicately secured.
"What- hey, what the fuck?" The tabaxi reaches to brush you off of her ankle with annoyance, but you remain secure in your hold. Noticing that he is in a similar predicament, the kobold turns and sets his bag down on the un-slimed forest floor in order to reach and try to delicately pick you off of his scales. This does not do much, and in fact seems to be a detriment to his plan as you begin to adhere yourself to his fingers and claws again.
"It must be some sort of fungus. It seems to react to touch, so it wouldn't surprise me if this were some sort of heat-seeking mold. Almost like the vermillion jelly, though that doesn't spread nearly as fast.." The kobold trails off as he struggles to remove you from his hands. His words seem to settle with the both of them as well, as you very noticeably begin creeping your way up the back of their legs, and the inside of the kobold's wrists.
"Yeah, except this isn't the time to be going on one of your herbalist kicks. I'd really like to get this- hey!" (Un)fortunately, the tabaxi does not get to finish her thought as you rather abruptly sling a portion of yourself forward and secure yourself onto her opposite ankle and absolutely ripple with delight. Oh, the both of them combined is a flavor experience you don't think you'll have again in your lifetime. Sweet, savory, soft fur and smooth scales so delicately covered in a thin film.
"Fitz, get this off of me or I'm going to rip it to shreds." Fitz the kobold. That name seems oddly fitting for a man of his demeanor. So poised and knowledgeable, and so, so clearly panicked now that you're beginning to slip into the curve of his elbow.
"Well, what do you expect me to do, Ateah? Pick it apart with my teeth?" Fitz quips in return, as he turns his head to look at Ateah (sweet, squirmy Ateah who cannot seem to keep herself still in your grasp) and offers her a glare. She sticks her tongue out in turn, which you choose to take as your golden moment of distraction to really, truly pounce. Your excitement cannot be contained, and is thus expressed in a full-bodied ripple around the both of them before you surge.
Ateah must have incredible reflexes, because just as you begin to burble and rise from the forest floor, she makes a very honest attempt at reaching for the staff strapped to her back. You imagine she’s hardly ever caught off guard given how stunned she is when you promptly latch another tendril of slime around her other paw, effectively rendering it immobile in your hold. The sound she makes is nothing less than horribly affronted, made only worse by the way you yank her staff from her hand with a tendril and toss it to the forest floor. Both her and Fitz now seem to realize the gravity of their situation and begin to struggle, but that just allows you more space to work with. More of their bodies to confine.
You begin with Fitz. He seems the most startled by your sudden transformation anyhow, and you use this to your advantage by wriggling another tendril out of the main mass of your body and towards his side. The hand that isn't currently being coated with your slime reaches to dig his claws into said tendril, which you assume is supposed to hurt. You feel nothing, only a shift of density before you begin to creep your way up each of his digits. The growl he lets through his nostrils is nothing short of angry, but you're wise enough to detect a teeny, tiny hint of panic.
As the both of them struggle you can only assume that they are taking this as an act of consumption. That you'll encapsulate them with your entirety and they will be lost to your mass and insatiable hunger. To ease these worries of theirs and to make sure they understand that this is merely a greeting gesture, a friendly outreach of sorts, you begin to shift and pool much of your mass upwards, until a thick, full-bodied tendril is looming above the both of them. Like a head and torso, with no discernable neck or features (and how exactly you can see them so clearly without eyes is truly up for debate). As you loom, they stop struggling briefly enough to look up at you, with a mixture of panic, confusion, and maybe a sprinkling of anger. How cute.
Both of their hands have effectively been cuffed within your slime. Though the both of them are standing, it's purely because of the layers of goo binding their legs together and their feet to the forest floor. Curiously, simply to observe their features, you turn your 'head' this way and that. Ateah snarls as you tilt closer.
"This- thing is sizing us up!" She snaps her teeth at you and you take the hint to pull away from her face ever so slightly. Sizing up might not be the word you would choose, but you have a feeling without proper explanation for the both of them they're going to see this as a combative opportunity. You would like to mitigate any injury as much as possible.
Before Fitz can respond and before Ateah can try to pull any tricky maneuvers, you promptly lift your lower potions off of the forest floor and send both of them teetering off balance. It's a rather pathetic display of attempted flailing limbs, Ateah and Fitz both wriggling in your grasp like bugs trying to escape a cocoon. And you hold them rather similarly- dangling upside down until Ateah's hair was the only thing brushing along the forest floor. Now is as good of a time as any to explain yourself, you think. It's only a polite preamble to what's about to happen next.
"I am not sizing you up," you say, though it's a bit warped considering you haven't made use of your voice in many, many years. Common was a difficult language for you to grasp and even more difficult to mimic- your 's' sounds are a bit too soft, you form vowels rounder than necessary, but you can tell they understand you perfectly by the way the both of them stop struggling for a moment just to watch your form with stunned expressions. "Yeah, see? A little conversation goes a long way in this world. Maaaaybe next time you should stop and talk to the slimes you come across rather than judging them by their gestures! Jeeze."
You taunt them quietly, allowing more of your mass to come up behind the both of them and adjust their posture. Ateah struggles as you push a thicker tendril between her shoulder blades, but Fitz remains still and compliant. He is rewarded with a comfortable dangling position as you begin to move him, forming yourself much like a mid-air stool for him to settle on. Ateah is merely being propped up like a mannequin, stiff as a board which she clearly does not appreciate.
"Maybe next time you should kiss my ass!" She nearly shrieks, thrashing about as best as she can with her wrists and calves immobilized. You scoff the best you can and turn to look at Fitz.
"Do you feel the same way? Because I have to say, that's kind of a rough foot to start on. I'm just trying to give you guys a friendly introduction."
Friendly introductions don't typically involve one member attempting to full-body taste the others, but those are semantics. Fitz looks affronted by the question, darkness blossoming around the portions of his face that have the thinnest scales. He opens his mouth, looks at Ateah, closes it. Oh.
Oh.
He's not struggling physically, but mentally you can almost tell by the way his taste changes that he's having conflicted feelings about his restraints. His attention is very clearly on Ateah and the way her lithe body moves around in her confines. His tail and legs make a vague attempt at pulling themselves away from you, but it's a thinly veiled attempt at feigning panic. You can work with this.
"Oooh, buddy, you don't need to say a word! I can read your little lizard mind about this, yes sir. Do you want to see her squirm some more?" You ask, rather innocently as you begin pulling her in closer to your mass.
"I- no, hey, no, Fitz tell this fucking thing to stop!" Ateah's body bows against your tendrils, the one between her shoulder blades effectively squished by how her muscles move. Sensing her panic, Fitz also begins to twist in an attempt to get closer, but you aren't so nice as to let him. The slime that had been resting near his lower back, allowing him to sit up, thusly oozes itself around his waist and tightly adheres to his lower body. Unable to move, he simply grunts, resigning to twisting his arms.
"S-Stop! Whatever is it you think I’m feeling it’s- it isn’t-" He trails off, blindsided by how you’re beginning to position her. He squirms still, but you can tell you’ve caught his interest.
You cradle him in the perfect position to be able to see Ateah's body being smothered by various tendrils rising their way from your core. Some begin to squish and tug against the leather she's wearing, while others begin pulling her limbs in order to position them the way you'd like. Ever so feisty, she continues to struggle through the ordeal (which admittedly makes it a bit difficult, but you don't mind) and spouts a handful of phrases you likely wouldn't repeat in polite company. It isn't until she is rendered completely, utterly immobile that you feel satisfied. Fitz too, you're sure, if his stunned silence is anything to go off of.
Ateah is being presented to him like a fine platter, her arms held high above her head and secured around the wrists by a portion of yourself, while her legs are kept apart by the ankles. Some of your mass is still working to pluck the leather straps from her body in order to free her soft fur, allowing them to clatter to the forest floor unceremoniously. In this position, her muscles are stretched taught, allowing the slim expanse of her stomach and the roundness of her thighs to be on display. The only things that are moving about her are her tail, which swishes in annoyance, and her eyes, which piercingly cast a glare at you.
"This isn't funny," she says, a tone creeping into her voice that can only be described as hesitant.
"Mmh, yeah, and I'm not laughing," you respond, twisting her a bit so Fitz could get a better look. "I think he's more amused about this than I am, even."
"Let her go." Fitz nearly snarls with his demand, to which you respond with a hearty, burbled laugh.
"What, and send you off without my signature greeting? I definitely think not. But don't worry you guys, I swear this isn't going to hurt. I am an expert."
Your assurance only seems to make the both of them more hesitant, which just won't do. They should be relaxed for this- it makes the flavors much sweeter. But there's no better time than the present, and you do not intend to deprive yourself any longer.
A smooth, squishy protrusion of yours prod just between her shoulder blades and drags lower in a smooth motion. Ateah shudders, draws in a breath. She tastes exquisite and new.
"Aww, come on," you tease, all too pleased with yourself. "You can give me more than that."
As Ateah struggles again, flexing her legs in an attempt to pry herself from your grip, you take the advantage of her momentary distraction in order to curl a portion of yourself around her hips, like a snug belt. It halts her motions while also providing a wonderful place for you to begin your exploration anew. Another protrusion- tongue for lack of a better word- finds the hollow of where her hip meets pelvis and digs in.
"Ah- hhhah, fuck-" Ateah gasps, and promptly attempts to arch her back. You keep her steady, pulling her flush to your form so she couldn't squirm away. She's much softer in this area, both in muscle and in fur, so you savor the patch with soft kitten licks that keep her shuddering against you. Her reactions only add to the intrigue, with the way she clenches her jaw and sucks in short, stuttered breaths through her nose in a clear attempt to keep herself from giggling. Most people have this reaction to your poking, as is in your nature, but she seems to be taking it pretty hard. Not hard enough though, given her composure.
The next of your tongue resumes its path between her shoulder blades, but this time drags its way up to the base of her neck. There it begins wiggling idly at the crook, her mop of curled hair brushed nicely to the side to give you more room to work with. She twists and tenses all at once, making some sort of noise of protest through clenched teeth, which dissolves yet again into labored breathing. You aren't surprised at her resolve, and you really are enjoying her hints of sweetness, but even the taste isn't enough to dissuade your desperate need to get her to crack. You're nothing if not stubborn, and you prove this by applying a bit more pressure near one of her shoulder tendons.
"Gh-!" Ateah's shoulders go rigid, her neck twisting to the side in order to evade your prodding. "Shhiiit, stop t-touching me like that!"
"No."
So much no, in fact, that you deem it fit to migrate your exploration.
You decide, after some quiet debate, to begin with a thorough examination of her torso (and so as to not leave Fitz out of the loop, you've brought him a bit closer to give him a good angle to view Ateah's squirming body). Another tongue begins a counter-clockwise spiral against the unoccupied divot of her hip, while a thicker tentacle branches off in order to begin slithering up her taut stomach. The tip wiggles and brushes up through her fur, taunting her spasming muscles with gentle flicks. Her mouth hangs agape, jaw tense in her attempt to keep her very desperate laughter in check. This is when the tentacle at its thickest begins to burble and expand, until your slime separates from itself. The tentacle is thus divided into three, tapering and connecting again where the rest of you has a hold around her hips.
The two tentacles to the right and left continue their exploration up her torso, twisting until they begin brushing up and along her ribcage. They begin a dance that way, idle back-and-forth motions along the divots between her ribs, wiggling quickly in some areas and settling in for lazy, sweet spirals in others. Both tentacles alternate between digging into the soft flesh below her rib cage, or the tender points just below the hollows of her arms. The middle tentacle, in the meanwhile, sets its exploration on a tuft of unruly fur just below her abdominal muscles. A few flicks over it and you discover just what it is you're looking for- a small, shallow hollow that the tip of the tentacle immediately begins to explore in earnest. You dip it into her navel and begin relentlessly swirling it in a way that drags the tip of the tentacle all around the soft walls.
Her reaction is instantaneous. If it weren't for the way you were cradling her, she would've folded like paper with how hard her body jolts. The laughter that spills from her mouth is uncharacteristically bubbly, broken by gasps and quick shrieks accompanied by occasional pokes to her ribs.
"Nn-noho!" Ateah downright squeals, her chest heaving with a sudden intake of breath. It's immediately punched out of her by a quick, deep prod between her hip bones, eliciting another shriek. "Stop, ff-uhuhuck!"
Her laughter is almost better than the way she tastes. Almost. Fitz seems to like it though, judging by the way he utterly squirms where he sits. You’ve decided not to leave him wholly neglected and begin nudging tendrils of your own against his sides, but his reactiveness seems extremely minimal compared to Ateah’s. You figure it’s because of his scales, and while you’d really like to test him, you decide to give the poor guy a bit of a break. Let him enjoy the show.
Fitz doesn’t taste nearly as nice as she does, anyway. More of a dull flavor, like a palette cleanser. You’re content to hold him where he is, occasionally dragging yourself across his stomach or his sides just to feel how smooth he is. He hardly notices, shifting this way and that only when Ateah’s squeals hit a particularly high pitch. And, oh, is she squealing.
But… not enough. You think, delightedly, that you could make this better.
"Hold on Ateah," you say, pulling her arms and legs tighter. "I think I have an idea."
(to be continued)
this story involves slime (obv), bondage, full-body tickling, and eventual (mild) orgasm delay/denial ( and overstimulation. if this isn't up your alley, proceed with caution!
Somewhere, in the far stretch of the Grove (hardly still considered in-bounds by then), there is a spot between a smattering of trees that is beautifully leveled. The grass is always well-trimmed, the creatures within this area seem to flourish. Lantern Beetles have made cozy homes in the flowers growing at the base of thick, tangle-rooted trees.
Nobody has any logical explanation as to why quite yet. Some have tried writing it off as the Grove’s subtle self-sustaining magic, while others have gone and tried to explore the chemical components of the soil to see if it has any relation. Neither party has found anything substantial to support their claims.
You, however, know the exact answer to this question. And it is just that. Just you.
You are… something, for sure. A sticky-but-smooth, soft orange mass of goo. And a fine one at that, thank you very much. Nobody has taken the liberty of giving you a title because you’ve hardly interacted with anyone worth adopting names from, though you've tried a slimeful of things thus far to see if they’d land. Dirt, Soil, and Pebble were among the top contenders, but all of them hit a little too close to the woodland theme for your liking. And as much as you love your home and all of the nutrients you get from the earth around you, you can’t help but feel stifled. It would be nice to stretch the ooze! Slither along one mycelial path to another, maybe, and find some other area to connect with.
Alas, your physiology doesn’t allow for that kind of exploration. In theory, anyway. You haven’t tried bipedaling it more than a few times, but the sensation of having two legs to walk on was far too strange to maintain. Maybe if someone had a.. a bucket, that you could schlop yourself into and have them carry around at their side. Or maybe if you wanted to maintain a more dense form, just get someone to stuff you in a backpack, allowing you to keep your ‘head’ out in the open to view the world around you.
…your fantasies about leaving always kind of put you in the position of Active Party’s Pet, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
And shit, you’ve been so lost in your idle fantasies and absorbing grass nutrients as you roll along the forest floor that you hardly noticed the vibrations coming up from underneath you. They were far too subtle at first, but now you can feel them trembling the displaced soil. Some petal sprites flit away in annoyance, which is a shame because some of the tinier ones make incredible desserts..
You would sigh at the loss of it, if you had lungs.
“..Fitz, it’s not even that big of a deal. I told you I would be fine, and I was fine!”
“You’re completely out of your mind! If ‘completely out of your mind’ meant ‘fine’ then, sure. But I feel like I must emphasize the fact that you really need to be more-”
“‘More calculated’, blah blah blah. It’s like we have the same conversation over and over because your speculations are kind of bullshit. Try working with me next time instead of giving suggestions you know aren’t going to land.”
One voice, slightly sweeter in tone but deeper in quality quips back at the second party member, who speaks in a tighter, more precise way. Like they were carefully picking the words in their mind before they spoke. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation so you’re missing some chunks, but they sound interesting. And you’ve always been a fan of interesting.
It’s been.. However long it’s been since you’ve last had someone walk into your stretch of the woods, so to speak. You imagine it will be longer still until someone else shows up.
Thus, you choose to seize the moment while you can. After all, curiosity only killed the quadruped. Nobody said anything about slimes.
Creeping to the edge of a thicker smattering of trees, you turn your attention to two figures walking down a trodden path of twigs and leaves. One a tabaxi, leather-clad with a knife holster squeezing her furred thigh, and the other a kobold, lithe in stature and wearing what could only be described as a very scholarly tunic. The tabaxi stood at around 5’10” in height, her feline features mimicking that of a more common variety of cat- orange tabby, maybe, with a mop of curly fur that she ties back in a tight bun. The kobold, on the other hand, barely reached her ribs at a pathetic 4’4”. What he lacked in height he rivaled in style at least, with rings and other jewelry adorning his purple skin. His reptilian features were pointed, angular, much like an anole. Soft white dots speckled his scales all the way down to the thin tail that curled around his ankle.
And, being the simple creature you are, you figure you should take the time to familiarize yourself with them as you normally would. Some might consider your approach abrasive, but it’s never harmful. You’ve also found that surprises are much more fun.
Oozing from where you are, you begin to puddle yourself out and onto the forest floor with ease, until you’re nothing but a translucent film over the leaves that create the path the two figures are walking on. Neither seem to notice, for now, which is exactly what you were hoping for. Your orange hues could easily pass for sunlight gleaming off of the path.
The tabaxi is the first to halt which does not surprise you. She seemed the sort to be curious, which is highlighted by the way her tail stiffens with interest. You were sort of hoping you’d be a little more subtle, sure, but this works too.
“..Ew,” she says (which is rude). “What do you suppose that is?”
Her head quirks to the left, presumably referring to her partner who is now bending at the knee to observe you. He reaches to push a pad of his scaled finger into your goo, which allows you to promptly latch onto the digit. Nothing too noticeable, and you stretch and release when he begins to pull his finger away. But for a moment- a brief, tantalizing moment- you could taste him.
That’s how it works. It’s your talent, your skill, tasting and absorbing and consuming with every cell of your being. It isn’t as if you planned on absorbing him for nutrients, no, he’s too big for your liking and would give you a slimeache. But that very brief taste was all you needed to decide that you wanted more. Much to your delight, the way his face scrunches up at your cold, sticky texture seems to tantalize the tabaxi into reaching her padded finger down as well.
She's much sweeter than him, but with an edge that you can't quite pinpoint yet. You linger on her for longer than you did the kobold, applying an almost light suction to the squishy-soft pink pad of her digit, making her curl her nose in disgust as she shakes you off of her paw.
"I don't think it's something we should be.. touching," says the kobold hesitantly. You heartily disagree. They should touch you much, much more.
"I mean, it feels weird, but I don't think it's harmful. You can just step over it." The tabaxi waves her paw dismissively, and turns to do just that. No, you think, which turns into a repeated mantra as the kobold begins to follow her lead. No, no, no, you wanted to have more time with them than this. And though you pride yourself on your composure most days, this is not going to fucking be one of them. You will not have such a delicious pair escape your gooey grasp quite yet.
Just as the tabaxi is about to step around your perimeter, you sneak a slimy bit of yourself around to stick just to the back of her heel. You make a similar move with the kobold, though neither of them notice until they attempt to take another step, only to find their ankles have been very delicately secured.
"What- hey, what the fuck?" The tabaxi reaches to brush you off of her ankle with annoyance, but you remain secure in your hold. Noticing that he is in a similar predicament, the kobold turns and sets his bag down on the un-slimed forest floor in order to reach and try to delicately pick you off of his scales. This does not do much, and in fact seems to be a detriment to his plan as you begin to adhere yourself to his fingers and claws again.
"It must be some sort of fungus. It seems to react to touch, so it wouldn't surprise me if this were some sort of heat-seeking mold. Almost like the vermillion jelly, though that doesn't spread nearly as fast.." The kobold trails off as he struggles to remove you from his hands. His words seem to settle with the both of them as well, as you very noticeably begin creeping your way up the back of their legs, and the inside of the kobold's wrists.
"Yeah, except this isn't the time to be going on one of your herbalist kicks. I'd really like to get this- hey!" (Un)fortunately, the tabaxi does not get to finish her thought as you rather abruptly sling a portion of yourself forward and secure yourself onto her opposite ankle and absolutely ripple with delight. Oh, the both of them combined is a flavor experience you don't think you'll have again in your lifetime. Sweet, savory, soft fur and smooth scales so delicately covered in a thin film.
"Fitz, get this off of me or I'm going to rip it to shreds." Fitz the kobold. That name seems oddly fitting for a man of his demeanor. So poised and knowledgeable, and so, so clearly panicked now that you're beginning to slip into the curve of his elbow.
"Well, what do you expect me to do, Ateah? Pick it apart with my teeth?" Fitz quips in return, as he turns his head to look at Ateah (sweet, squirmy Ateah who cannot seem to keep herself still in your grasp) and offers her a glare. She sticks her tongue out in turn, which you choose to take as your golden moment of distraction to really, truly pounce. Your excitement cannot be contained, and is thus expressed in a full-bodied ripple around the both of them before you surge.
Ateah must have incredible reflexes, because just as you begin to burble and rise from the forest floor, she makes a very honest attempt at reaching for the staff strapped to her back. You imagine she’s hardly ever caught off guard given how stunned she is when you promptly latch another tendril of slime around her other paw, effectively rendering it immobile in your hold. The sound she makes is nothing less than horribly affronted, made only worse by the way you yank her staff from her hand with a tendril and toss it to the forest floor. Both her and Fitz now seem to realize the gravity of their situation and begin to struggle, but that just allows you more space to work with. More of their bodies to confine.
You begin with Fitz. He seems the most startled by your sudden transformation anyhow, and you use this to your advantage by wriggling another tendril out of the main mass of your body and towards his side. The hand that isn't currently being coated with your slime reaches to dig his claws into said tendril, which you assume is supposed to hurt. You feel nothing, only a shift of density before you begin to creep your way up each of his digits. The growl he lets through his nostrils is nothing short of angry, but you're wise enough to detect a teeny, tiny hint of panic.
As the both of them struggle you can only assume that they are taking this as an act of consumption. That you'll encapsulate them with your entirety and they will be lost to your mass and insatiable hunger. To ease these worries of theirs and to make sure they understand that this is merely a greeting gesture, a friendly outreach of sorts, you begin to shift and pool much of your mass upwards, until a thick, full-bodied tendril is looming above the both of them. Like a head and torso, with no discernable neck or features (and how exactly you can see them so clearly without eyes is truly up for debate). As you loom, they stop struggling briefly enough to look up at you, with a mixture of panic, confusion, and maybe a sprinkling of anger. How cute.
Both of their hands have effectively been cuffed within your slime. Though the both of them are standing, it's purely because of the layers of goo binding their legs together and their feet to the forest floor. Curiously, simply to observe their features, you turn your 'head' this way and that. Ateah snarls as you tilt closer.
"This- thing is sizing us up!" She snaps her teeth at you and you take the hint to pull away from her face ever so slightly. Sizing up might not be the word you would choose, but you have a feeling without proper explanation for the both of them they're going to see this as a combative opportunity. You would like to mitigate any injury as much as possible.
Before Fitz can respond and before Ateah can try to pull any tricky maneuvers, you promptly lift your lower potions off of the forest floor and send both of them teetering off balance. It's a rather pathetic display of attempted flailing limbs, Ateah and Fitz both wriggling in your grasp like bugs trying to escape a cocoon. And you hold them rather similarly- dangling upside down until Ateah's hair was the only thing brushing along the forest floor. Now is as good of a time as any to explain yourself, you think. It's only a polite preamble to what's about to happen next.
"I am not sizing you up," you say, though it's a bit warped considering you haven't made use of your voice in many, many years. Common was a difficult language for you to grasp and even more difficult to mimic- your 's' sounds are a bit too soft, you form vowels rounder than necessary, but you can tell they understand you perfectly by the way the both of them stop struggling for a moment just to watch your form with stunned expressions. "Yeah, see? A little conversation goes a long way in this world. Maaaaybe next time you should stop and talk to the slimes you come across rather than judging them by their gestures! Jeeze."
You taunt them quietly, allowing more of your mass to come up behind the both of them and adjust their posture. Ateah struggles as you push a thicker tendril between her shoulder blades, but Fitz remains still and compliant. He is rewarded with a comfortable dangling position as you begin to move him, forming yourself much like a mid-air stool for him to settle on. Ateah is merely being propped up like a mannequin, stiff as a board which she clearly does not appreciate.
"Maybe next time you should kiss my ass!" She nearly shrieks, thrashing about as best as she can with her wrists and calves immobilized. You scoff the best you can and turn to look at Fitz.
"Do you feel the same way? Because I have to say, that's kind of a rough foot to start on. I'm just trying to give you guys a friendly introduction."
Friendly introductions don't typically involve one member attempting to full-body taste the others, but those are semantics. Fitz looks affronted by the question, darkness blossoming around the portions of his face that have the thinnest scales. He opens his mouth, looks at Ateah, closes it. Oh.
Oh.
He's not struggling physically, but mentally you can almost tell by the way his taste changes that he's having conflicted feelings about his restraints. His attention is very clearly on Ateah and the way her lithe body moves around in her confines. His tail and legs make a vague attempt at pulling themselves away from you, but it's a thinly veiled attempt at feigning panic. You can work with this.
"Oooh, buddy, you don't need to say a word! I can read your little lizard mind about this, yes sir. Do you want to see her squirm some more?" You ask, rather innocently as you begin pulling her in closer to your mass.
"I- no, hey, no, Fitz tell this fucking thing to stop!" Ateah's body bows against your tendrils, the one between her shoulder blades effectively squished by how her muscles move. Sensing her panic, Fitz also begins to twist in an attempt to get closer, but you aren't so nice as to let him. The slime that had been resting near his lower back, allowing him to sit up, thusly oozes itself around his waist and tightly adheres to his lower body. Unable to move, he simply grunts, resigning to twisting his arms.
"S-Stop! Whatever is it you think I’m feeling it’s- it isn’t-" He trails off, blindsided by how you’re beginning to position her. He squirms still, but you can tell you’ve caught his interest.
You cradle him in the perfect position to be able to see Ateah's body being smothered by various tendrils rising their way from your core. Some begin to squish and tug against the leather she's wearing, while others begin pulling her limbs in order to position them the way you'd like. Ever so feisty, she continues to struggle through the ordeal (which admittedly makes it a bit difficult, but you don't mind) and spouts a handful of phrases you likely wouldn't repeat in polite company. It isn't until she is rendered completely, utterly immobile that you feel satisfied. Fitz too, you're sure, if his stunned silence is anything to go off of.
Ateah is being presented to him like a fine platter, her arms held high above her head and secured around the wrists by a portion of yourself, while her legs are kept apart by the ankles. Some of your mass is still working to pluck the leather straps from her body in order to free her soft fur, allowing them to clatter to the forest floor unceremoniously. In this position, her muscles are stretched taught, allowing the slim expanse of her stomach and the roundness of her thighs to be on display. The only things that are moving about her are her tail, which swishes in annoyance, and her eyes, which piercingly cast a glare at you.
"This isn't funny," she says, a tone creeping into her voice that can only be described as hesitant.
"Mmh, yeah, and I'm not laughing," you respond, twisting her a bit so Fitz could get a better look. "I think he's more amused about this than I am, even."
"Let her go." Fitz nearly snarls with his demand, to which you respond with a hearty, burbled laugh.
"What, and send you off without my signature greeting? I definitely think not. But don't worry you guys, I swear this isn't going to hurt. I am an expert."
Your assurance only seems to make the both of them more hesitant, which just won't do. They should be relaxed for this- it makes the flavors much sweeter. But there's no better time than the present, and you do not intend to deprive yourself any longer.
A smooth, squishy protrusion of yours prod just between her shoulder blades and drags lower in a smooth motion. Ateah shudders, draws in a breath. She tastes exquisite and new.
"Aww, come on," you tease, all too pleased with yourself. "You can give me more than that."
As Ateah struggles again, flexing her legs in an attempt to pry herself from your grip, you take the advantage of her momentary distraction in order to curl a portion of yourself around her hips, like a snug belt. It halts her motions while also providing a wonderful place for you to begin your exploration anew. Another protrusion- tongue for lack of a better word- finds the hollow of where her hip meets pelvis and digs in.
"Ah- hhhah, fuck-" Ateah gasps, and promptly attempts to arch her back. You keep her steady, pulling her flush to your form so she couldn't squirm away. She's much softer in this area, both in muscle and in fur, so you savor the patch with soft kitten licks that keep her shuddering against you. Her reactions only add to the intrigue, with the way she clenches her jaw and sucks in short, stuttered breaths through her nose in a clear attempt to keep herself from giggling. Most people have this reaction to your poking, as is in your nature, but she seems to be taking it pretty hard. Not hard enough though, given her composure.
The next of your tongue resumes its path between her shoulder blades, but this time drags its way up to the base of her neck. There it begins wiggling idly at the crook, her mop of curled hair brushed nicely to the side to give you more room to work with. She twists and tenses all at once, making some sort of noise of protest through clenched teeth, which dissolves yet again into labored breathing. You aren't surprised at her resolve, and you really are enjoying her hints of sweetness, but even the taste isn't enough to dissuade your desperate need to get her to crack. You're nothing if not stubborn, and you prove this by applying a bit more pressure near one of her shoulder tendons.
"Gh-!" Ateah's shoulders go rigid, her neck twisting to the side in order to evade your prodding. "Shhiiit, stop t-touching me like that!"
"No."
So much no, in fact, that you deem it fit to migrate your exploration.
You decide, after some quiet debate, to begin with a thorough examination of her torso (and so as to not leave Fitz out of the loop, you've brought him a bit closer to give him a good angle to view Ateah's squirming body). Another tongue begins a counter-clockwise spiral against the unoccupied divot of her hip, while a thicker tentacle branches off in order to begin slithering up her taut stomach. The tip wiggles and brushes up through her fur, taunting her spasming muscles with gentle flicks. Her mouth hangs agape, jaw tense in her attempt to keep her very desperate laughter in check. This is when the tentacle at its thickest begins to burble and expand, until your slime separates from itself. The tentacle is thus divided into three, tapering and connecting again where the rest of you has a hold around her hips.
The two tentacles to the right and left continue their exploration up her torso, twisting until they begin brushing up and along her ribcage. They begin a dance that way, idle back-and-forth motions along the divots between her ribs, wiggling quickly in some areas and settling in for lazy, sweet spirals in others. Both tentacles alternate between digging into the soft flesh below her rib cage, or the tender points just below the hollows of her arms. The middle tentacle, in the meanwhile, sets its exploration on a tuft of unruly fur just below her abdominal muscles. A few flicks over it and you discover just what it is you're looking for- a small, shallow hollow that the tip of the tentacle immediately begins to explore in earnest. You dip it into her navel and begin relentlessly swirling it in a way that drags the tip of the tentacle all around the soft walls.
Her reaction is instantaneous. If it weren't for the way you were cradling her, she would've folded like paper with how hard her body jolts. The laughter that spills from her mouth is uncharacteristically bubbly, broken by gasps and quick shrieks accompanied by occasional pokes to her ribs.
"Nn-noho!" Ateah downright squeals, her chest heaving with a sudden intake of breath. It's immediately punched out of her by a quick, deep prod between her hip bones, eliciting another shriek. "Stop, ff-uhuhuck!"
Her laughter is almost better than the way she tastes. Almost. Fitz seems to like it though, judging by the way he utterly squirms where he sits. You’ve decided not to leave him wholly neglected and begin nudging tendrils of your own against his sides, but his reactiveness seems extremely minimal compared to Ateah’s. You figure it’s because of his scales, and while you’d really like to test him, you decide to give the poor guy a bit of a break. Let him enjoy the show.
Fitz doesn’t taste nearly as nice as she does, anyway. More of a dull flavor, like a palette cleanser. You’re content to hold him where he is, occasionally dragging yourself across his stomach or his sides just to feel how smooth he is. He hardly notices, shifting this way and that only when Ateah’s squeals hit a particularly high pitch. And, oh, is she squealing.
But… not enough. You think, delightedly, that you could make this better.
"Hold on Ateah," you say, pulling her arms and legs tighter. "I think I have an idea."
(to be continued)
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