lois333
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2012
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Hey guys, this is part 2/3 of the story. This part features a slime monster, and has full body tickling, sex, and anal sex. Hope you like it.
The afternoon sun was slowly setting, casting the neighborhood in amber reflections as Veronica walked steadily down the sidewalk. Her body... God, her body. It was still feverish, vibrating with a memory so recent that she could almost feel the mechanical fingers tracing her skin, replaying each caress, each electric pulse.
Her feet, still ticklish despite the firm ground under her heels, seemed to want to escape with every step. Her ribs retained the shiver of the machine's assaults, a sensitivity exacerbated by the mere contact of her blouse against her skin. And between her thighs... a residual heat refused to die down, awakening with the slightest rub of her stockings against her skin.
She forced herself to take a deep breath, to relax her shoulders. Regain control before going home. Before facing Henry.
The smile she wore as she walked through the door was almost natural.
Dinner was already being prepared. Henry was busy in the kitchen while the children played in the living room. A mundane scene, a reassuring normality... yet, Veronica could still feel every nerve in her body quivering with a burning secret.
— So, you were at the new neighbor's place? Henry asked curiously, pouring wine into a glass.
She knew he would ask. She knew she would have to lie.
— Yes, she said with feigned lightness. He offered me a small job as a tester for his wellness experiments. Research on relaxation and nerve stimulation.
Henry raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.
— You and science?
Veronica laughed, pretending to be offended.
— Well, it was interesting. Surprising, but... interesting.
Henry nodded, taking a sip of wine.
— It will be a change from the routine. You're always at home.
A shadow passed over Veronica's eyes. If only he knew...
A shiver ran down her spine, reactivating memories too recent, too vivid. She fought the urge to clench her thighs under the table.
— Yes, she whispered, averting her gaze. It will be a change.
During the evening with her family, she did everything to act normally.
She smiled at the children, laughed at Henry's jokes, and gave him distracted kisses on the cheek. Everything was perfect. She was the ideal mother, the exemplary wife. But nothing could erase the echo of the afternoon's experience.
Every sound around her seemed distant. Every gesture reminded her of another touch, another sensation. When she leaned down to pick up a toy, the mere pressure of her skirt fabric against her stomach reminded her of the leather chair. When she brushed her own arm, it was the caress of the mechanical hands she still felt.
She had thought it would pass. But as the evening wore on, the desire grew stronger.
That night, Henry slept soundly beside her, oblivious to the turmoil consuming her. Veronica lay on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, mouth slightly open. The sheets slid against her naked skin, brushing the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Each contact awakened memories of the machine. She clenched her legs.
The heat between her thighs was still there. A vestige of the experience, an indelible imprint left by invisible fingers, insidious pulses. She had never felt this way before. Her stomach contracted gently under the weight of anticipation, of longing. Her mind struggled, but her body demanded.
— No... she murmured weakly to herself, turning on her side, seeking sleep as an escape.
But she fell asleep dreaming of a leather chair, cold and precise fingers, unbearable and exquisite tickles.
The morning silence was deafening.
Henry had gone to work. The children were at school, and Veronica was alone in this too quiet, too empty house.
She tried to distract herself. She cleaned, drank coffee, opened a book she didn't read. But every thought returned to him. To him.
Dr. VonTicklet. The laboratory. The machine. Her own voice echoing in the room... between laughter and moans.
She passed by a mirror. She stopped. Her reflection caught her eye. Another woman.
Her cheeks were rosier than usual, her lips too moist, too full. Her blouse, slightly wrinkled, clung to her taut chest.
She placed a hand on her neck, on her shoulder, shivering at her own touch.
— I won't go back there...
She whispered it. But she didn't believe it for a second.
The sound of paper sliding under the door startled Veronica. An electric shiver ran up her neck as she slowly approached. A slim, elegant black envelope. She opened it.
"You showed great sensitivity to the previous experience. I would like to deepen our tests. If you are ready... I await you this afternoon."
Her stomach tightened.
Her fingers trembled as she closed the letter, and she began to pace.
— It's just a test. Nothing more.
Her breathing quickened slightly.
— I'm just... curious.
Her black-painted nails nervously scratched the tip of her thumb.
But she knew. She knew. Her heart was beating too fast. She wanted to go back.
She went upstairs to her room. Opened her closet.
Her fingers slid over the fabrics... and she unconsciously chose something too provocative.
A black blouse, tighter than usual. A skirt even shorter. Seamed stockings that elongated her legs. Heels too high.
She looked at herself in the mirror, biting her lower lip.
— This is ridiculous...
But she changed nothing.
She stopped at the door with one last hesitation. She could still turn back. Forget all this. Resume her normal life.
Her hands trembled as she turned the doorknob. She stepped forward. Her heels clicked on the pavement. The manor had never seemed so imposing.
The afternoon was warmer than the day before. But Veronica felt cold as she approached the door. She raised her hand to knock... But she didn't need to. The door opened before she even touched the wood.
VonTicklet stood there. His gaze slowly slid over her, like a scalpel analyzing every detail, every weakness.
A slow smile stretched his lips. His gaze slid over her, detailing every inch of her body with the clinical precision of a scientist... and the calculated appreciation of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
Veronica Sweet, in all her offered splendor. Her black blouse, tighter than it should be, hugged the curve of her breasts, the silk taut with each slightly trembling breath. The fabric was buttoned just high enough to remain decent, but not enough to hide the swell of her cleavage, that subtle hollow where heat seemed to accumulate.
Her pencil skirt, too short to be modest, precisely outlined the alluring curve of her hips and the firmness of her stocking-clad thighs. The seams of her stockings, fine dark lines, ran up her endless legs until they disappeared under the hem.
VonTicklet let his gaze linger a second too long on her vertiginous heels, black and shiny, which forced the arch of her foot, stretching the skin under her fine stockings. He knew they made her more aware of each step, each pressure on the ground, each little shiver of instability.
Her nails, impeccably painted black, were like an extra detail. A silent confession. She had thought about her outfit. She had chosen it knowing exactly what effect it would have, and now, she stood there, shivering, falsely confident... like prey that had just entered the cage. VonTicklet smiled.
— You are even more ravishing today, Veronica.
His voice slid over her skin like an invisible caress. Veronica straightened slightly, crossing her arms under her chest as if to compose herself.
— And you are still as direct, Dr. VonTicklet, she replied, raising an eyebrow.
He did not respond immediately. He approached.
His step was slow, measured, each movement carefully weighed. He stopped just a few centimeters away, close enough for her to smell the subtle scent of his skin, that intoxicating mix of musk and leather, with a hint of something... chemical.
Veronica did not move. But he saw her neck tense slightly, like a thread about to snap.
— It's not directness... he murmured. It's precision.
His steel eyes plunged into hers, and she knew he could see everything she was trying to hide.
Her slightly faster breath. The tension in her shoulders. The imperceptible trembling of her fingers on the fabric of her skirt. She swallowed.
— So, she said, trying to sound light, what is today's experiment?
VonTicklet tilted his head slightly, savoring the moment before answering.
— A unique sensory experience. I have something absolutely fascinating to show you.
His smile widened, almost predatory.
— Come.
The manor was even quieter than the day before.
Only their footsteps echoed on the marble floor of the hall, the sound of Veronica's heels breaking the heavy silence of the place.
She walked slightly behind him, trying to focus on her surroundings, on the elegant architecture, on the heavy velvet curtains that absorbed the light.
But all she could think about... was her own body.
And him, walking with absolute confidence, as if he knew exactly what was going to happen.
— Tell me, Veronica...
She started slightly at the sound of his voice breaking the silence.
— Yes?
He slowed down slightly, forcing her to walk beside him.
— After our last session... did you sleep well?
Her heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth, hesitated. He was looking at her too intently.
— Of course, she replied with a small smile. Why do you ask?
VonTicklet stopped abruptly. Veronica barely had time to react before he turned to her, an amused gleam in his eyes.
— Really?
She felt her stomach knot. He knew. Of course, he knew. She looked away, nervously smoothing her skirt with her fingertips.
— I... maybe I had trouble falling asleep, she admitted reluctantly.
VonTicklet took another step toward her.
— Because your body was craving something else?
Her breath caught. The silence between them became palpable.
Veronica could have denied it. She could have laughed, changed the subject, played the indifferent woman. But she couldn't do it. Because the mere thought of lying... excited her even more. She breathed softly, looking back up at him.
— And if it were?
VonTicklet smiled.
— Then I think today's experiment will be... memorable.
They finally reached a massive door, more austere than the others.
Dark metal, no visible handle. A simple numeric keypad embedded on the side.
Veronica felt a strange tension in the air.
This was different from the day before.
The previous experience, despite its intensity, still had a semblance of control, of implicit consent.
Here... Something unknown awaited her behind that door.
VonTicklet brushed the keypad, entering a code. A beep sounded, followed by a metallic click. Then he turned to her.
He said nothing. He simply placed a hand against the door... and nodded to her.
— After you, Veronica.
She stopped, hesitated. Her instinct screamed at her not to pass through that door. But the heat between her thighs was already there, throbbing, irresistible. She closed her eyes for a second, exhaled softly... and stepped forward.
As soon as she took a step inside, a shiver ran down her spine. The sharp click of the door closing behind her echoed like a sentence.
Veronica turned around immediately. There was no handle. No visible exit. Just that cold, smooth wall that had just cut her off from the outside world.
The air was thicker here. Charged with a strange humidity that clung to her skin, that weighed down her clothes. A creeping heat, unsettling, almost intimate.
The room was not empty. Before her, the gelatinous mass stirred slowly, pulsing with a silent life. Its oily reflections shimmered under the green light, ripples running across its smooth surface like a lake under an invisible wind.
She didn't know what it was, but her instinct screamed at her not to move. And yet...
A tremor. An almost imperceptible movement in the sea of gel.
Something emerged from it. A thin, translucent filament that rose slowly, swaying like an aquatic plant seeking the current. Then another.
They floated in the air for a few seconds... before moving toward her.
Veronica clenched her fists. Her back pressed harder against the cold wall, her breathing already too fast. Her heels clicked slightly on the floor as she tried to take a step back, but there was no more back.
Then, one of the filaments touched her leg. A mere brush. Light as a feather.
— Hhhnn !
She tensed immediately, a violent shiver running up her spine. Her calf trembled involuntarily, her skin shivering under the cold and slightly viscous touch of the tentacle.
She wanted to shake the thing off her leg, but as soon as she moved, a second filament emerged.
This one wrapped around her wrist. Her breath caught.
The first reflex was to pull, to tear her arm from this foreign grip, but the hold... held firm.
It was not a rigid or painful restraint. The gelatinous material molded to her skin, like latex heated to body temperature. For a second, she even had the impression that it was breathing around her wrist, adjusting to her, adapting.
— Let go of me!
Her voice rang out in the room, but her own anxiety made it tremble.
The slime did not let go, quite the opposite.
A third tentacle, larger, thicker, rose slowly... and slid along her arm, exploring the taut silk of her blouse.
Veronica shuddered in horror.
Her heart was beating too fast. Her other hand, still free, clenched against the wall, her black nails scratching the cold surface. She tried to grasp what was holding her, but the gelatinous mass seized her second hand.
Her scream choked in her throat as her feet left the ground.
The slime had lifted her.
At first just a few centimeters, a slight shift out of balance. But already, her world was tilting.
— Impossible...
Her body was giving way beneath her, her muscles reacting on their own. Instead, the gelatinous material enveloping her wrists and calves adapted to her, as if it were testing her reaction, as if it were learning her limits.
Her fingers, clenched, closed on emptiness.
And that's when she felt the first intrusion.
A finer, more insidious thread slid under her skirt.
— No, stop!
She tried to clench her legs, but the slime was already infiltrating, molding to every line of her skin, every contour of her tensed thighs.
Rising. Slowly. Deliberately.
Veronica jolted, her hips seeking to escape an elusive presence. Just a brush, a moist murmur against the silk of her stockings.
But the further it advanced... the more she felt. The fabric of her clothes did not resist. The fabric disintegrated under the insidious caresses of the slime, slowly blending with her shivering flesh.
— Nnnhh... no...
Her fingers trembled, seeking non-existent support. She was suspended, offered to a presence impossible to anticipate.
And then... A different sensation. Her hands. Or rather... what was left of them. Her fingers... were no longer exposed to the air.
She looked down. The creature had swallowed them.
Her palms were engulfed up to the wrists in the translucent substance, which hugged and caressed every curve of her phalanges, every hollow of her skin.
A warm breeze passed over her belly, like a barely whispered promise. Then, a touch. Light. Almost non-existent. But Veronica felt it immediately.
A ghostly caress that danced against her skin, snaking between the buttons of her blouse, following the fragile curve of her ribs.
— HHhhnnn haaaahh... !
Her body jerked suddenly. She laughed before she even understood. Before her brain allowed her to.
— Nnnnnoo hhahAHH haaah stop !! !!
Tiny filaments, as fine as hair, slipped between each bone, tickling the sensitive flesh between her ribs. They didn't scratch her, didn't press her... they slid. A meticulous ballet, insidiously precise, playing with every millimeter of skin.
The fine silk of her blouse evaporated in tatters, disappearing on contact with the moving substance.
As if the creature decided where and when the fabric should give way, opening her outfit piece by piece, slowly revealing her trembling ribcage, the flesh of her belly contracted by laughter, and the beginning of her breasts, still protected by lace.
— HhahahaHHAAA—AAAH !! NOOOHOHOH NOT THERE !!
She arched her back, her spine twisting in the void. But she had no support. Just the air and the torture.
And then, her feet. She felt the difference immediately. The contact of her heels with the creature... disappeared. The slime swallowed them.
— NNhhHHahh!!
She cast a frightened glance beneath her, just in time to see her heels sink into the gelatinous mass. Absorbed. Swallowed. Erased.
Her bare feet, still sheathed in silk, floated for a moment in the void... Then, the new contact. Something stirred under her toes.
— Oh... no.
A viscous growth took shape, different from the others. It didn't seize her. It vibrated. A brutal shiver ran from her neck to her ankles.
— Hhnnnnnnnnnoooo HhahahAAAHAAAH !!
A soft, almost downy mass brushed the underside of her toes, playing with the taut nylon, tracing infernal lines on her skin.
Her painted toes tried to curl up, to escape, to find shelter... But there was none. The slime followed them.
Each time she squirmed, the brush adapted, shaving the arch of her foot, tickling the tips of her toes, tracing invisible lines under the ultra-sensitive sole of her feet.
And meanwhile, her nylon was melting.
Little by little, the silk dissolved under the stimulations, gradually exposing her bare skin. Veronica's laughter became hysterical.
— HHHHAHAHHAHAHA !!!
She struggled, but her legs were already convulsing, pulling against the creature, desperately trying to escape the appendages exploring the inside of her thighs.
But her skirt no longer existed. Or rather... It still existed in places. Progressively destroyed, in tatters...
Enough to reveal her trembling hips, the obsessive contrast of the black lace of her garter belt against her burning skin, and the taut silk of her stockings, already clinging to the growing moisture between her legs.
Her chest heaved frantically, her breasts shivering under the lace, oppressed under the unbearable tension.
Filaments tightened around her chest, pressing against the fragile fabric, without dissolving it yet.
As if it was savoring every second of her torment, every involuntary movement of her body, every uncontrolled convulsion.
Veronica struggled weakly, her wrists still trapped in the gelatinous grip of the slime. Her arms trembled, her breath was short, and every nerve in her body was on alert under the relentless caresses that ran over her skin. Her chest, already shaken by uncontrollable shivers, was the next territory to be conquered.
She felt the tightening around her chest.
The slime's filaments had gently wrapped around her breasts, tracing invisible lines on her quivering flesh. They pulsed slightly, vibrating at an imperceptible frequency, spreading an insidious warmth through her skin.
— Hhhnnnn... hhaha... nooon...!!
Her laughter, fragile, choked in a gasp. A tension grew within her, an inconceivable mix of apprehension and forbidden desire.
Then the lace of her bra began to dissolve.
First in a simple tingling, then in a slow effervescence, as if the fabric was melting under an invisible heat.
— Hhahaha... haahh nooooo ! My brahahahaha !!
She realized too late what was happening.
In an evanescent sigh, the black lace disappeared completely, leaving behind only the bare skin of her chest, exposed to the warm air of the room.
Her breasts bounced freely, relieved of all constraints, gently undulating with the effect of her erratic breathing.
— Aahhh !!
Before she could even react, two new growths slid through the air, finer, softer, immediately brushing against her erect nipples.
— HhhahhAHHHAHHAHA !!!
Her scream was lost in uncontrollable laughter.
The tentacles didn't press, didn't force anything. They just played. Teased.
Their downy surface traced slow circles around her hypersensitive areolas, awakening every millimeter of skin, exacerbating every already present shiver.
— NNNNNOOOOO HAHAHHAHA N NOHOT THEHE, NOT THEHERE HAHAHHAHAHHA !!
Her chest jerked under the stimulations, her nipples standing erect under the effect of the infernal caresses.
Each touch sent a wave of heat into her belly, an electric shock that ran down her trembling thighs.
But it wasn't over. Not yet.
Beneath her, where her body vainly tensed against the tentacle that already nestled against her sex, a subtle change had just occurred.
The texture of the tentacle had changed. It was no longer as ethereal, as elusive. It was densifying. It was becoming firmer, warmer... more tangible.
— Hhhhhh... ahhhh...
Veronica immediately felt the difference. It was no longer just pressure against her pelvis.
It was contact.
Too realistic, too precise contact.
The tentacle mimicked the pressure of a body against hers, its simulated weight against her belly, its diffuse heat seeping between her thighs.
— Nnnnn hihihAHHAHA aaah hah nnnnhaaa!!
Her protest vanished as soon as a new sensation added to the torture.
A viscous nectar escaped from the moving mass, soaking the fine lace of her panties.
— HHHnnnnnnnnnn...!!
The burning wave that followed made her shiver violently, forcing her pelvis to react despite herself.
The black silk of her panties immediately clung to her skin, becoming almost transparent under the effect of the slippery liquid.
Each touch of the tentacle on the soaked fabric sent uncontrollable shivers through her lower back, igniting an unbearable heat within her.
— Hhhahhhnnn... haahhh...!!
She panted, her chest rising and falling with her erratic breathing.
She felt something within her giving way.
A barrier. A last resistance.
The tickling on the inside of her thighs suddenly intensified.
— HHHAAAAAAHHAHAHAHA !!!
Her legs immediately trembled under the renewed attack, her calves nervously contracting as she tried to struggle.
But the more she fought, the more the slime insisted.
The caresses became more precise, deeper, lingering on the most sensitive areas of the inside of her thighs, just a few centimeters from the warm moisture between her legs.
— HHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHA NOOOHOHOHO MEHEHEHERCYHYHY!!
Her thighs arched, opening despite herself under the relentless torture.
Her body no longer obeyed her.
Worse still... it reacted.
She would have liked to close her legs, to shut them to stop the progression... But the exquisite pain of these perfidious tickles forced her to shake them, to squirm, to twist...
And the more she twisted, the more they opened.
Her own laughter became a sob, a cry of ecstasy broken between hysterical outbursts.
And meanwhile...
Her feet were at the mercy of the finest tentacles.
They had finished dissolving the last shreds of her stockings.
Her bare skin shivered under the unbearably slow caresses that explored every nook of her hypersensitive soles.
A more playful tentacle brushed the arch of her right foot.
— HHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA !!
Her leg convulsed, her foot trying to escape, but the invisible attachments held her perfectly in place.
Then it was the other foot.
A tiny filament tickled the tip of her big toe, tracing an invisible circle.
— HHNNNNNNNAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!!
Her toes quivered, involuntarily spreading under the torture, exposing even more skin to the attack.
Her chest jerked under the stimulations, her nipples pinched, rolled under the light caresses of the feather-tentacles.
Her panties, soaked, clinging to her pulsating intimacy, quivered under the subtle vibrations of the tentacle that was slowly breaking her in.
The uncontrollable laughter blended into feverish moans. The boundary between torture and pleasure was blurring at a terrifying speed.
Veronica panted, her broken laughter escaping in irregular waves, her body convulsing with uncontrollable spasms. The heat, omnipresent, consumed every inch of her offered skin. She felt the relentless caresses of the slime, each touch awakening shivers that ran down her spine to fade between her trembling thighs.
Her belly contracted under the alternating stimulations, a torturous mix of tickles and wicked caresses, of forced laughter and forbidden panting. Her bare breasts, marked by the dissolution of her bra, bounced to the rhythm of her erratic breathing, her nipples quivering under the effect of the feather-tentacles that never stopped teasing their hypersensitive skin.
But the worst was happening.
There, where the aphrodisiac fluid had already seeped in, soaking the black lace of her panties, sticking the fabric against her burning intimacy... a deeper shiver alerted her to the coming change.
The slime intensified its grip.
The gelatinous substance pressed more firmly against her pelvis, fitting it with a precision that made her gasp, tremble under the unprecedented sensation. The lace, already made almost transparent by the moisture, was now only a symbolic barrier.
— Hhhhnnnn... aahh... nnnoo...!!
Her breath caught as she felt the first wave of dissolution.
The heat suddenly spread, radiating the fabric that still covered her pulsating sex. The lace began to vibrate under the effect of the fusion, the fine structure of the textile slowly disintegrating under the chemical assault of the slime.
It was an impossible sensation.
The silk was evaporating against her skin.
Melting.
Disappearing.
Barely giving her time to realize what was happening.
— Hhhaaaa hahhHAHAHAHA NOOOOOOOHOOOO !!
An uncontrollable spasm arched her back, her neck thrown back as her thighs parted under the shock.
The fluid was no longer contained. It was on her, directly.
A warm, slippery trickle stretched along her bare skin, slowly running between her sensitive folds, seeping into every nook.
— Hhhhhnnnnnnn—aaaaahhhhhh...!!
Her hips trembled under the effect of the contact, an uncontrollable spasm shaking her. Her entire body was seized by an uncontrollable wave of heat, every nerve saturated by this humiliating and exquisite sensation at the same time.
She wanted to flee, struggle, close her legs... but she couldn't.
The slime let the fluid act, letting Veronica become aware of every drop seeping against her bare skin, of every involuntary tremor of her body that was gradually giving in.
And then... A caress. Just one. Soft.
An imperceptible shiver, an almost imperceptible contact, where the heat was most unbearable.
— HHHHHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA !!!
She exploded again in hysterical laughter, interspersed with a stifled moan.
The dense and troubling liquid slowly spread over her skin, insinuating itself into every receptive fold of her flesh, tracing invisible lines of alienating desire. Veronica could feel its strange texture, warmer than her own body, denser, more slippery.
— Hhhhhnnnn—hhhaaa...!
The first touch on her sex made her shiver violently, her hips seeking support that did not exist, her back arching under the intensity of the sensation.
The creature did not penetrate. It brushed. It tasted.
A slow, sinuous back-and-forth, a liquid caress against her bare flesh, accompanied by a wave of electrifying heat. Each movement of the tentacle left behind a trail of aphrodisiac fluid, and the effect was immediate.
— Hhhhhhaaaahh... hhhnnnnn.. Please dohohohon't fuhuhuhu.. Fuhuhuhuck me !! Please !
Her belly contracted sharply under the rise of a pleasure she no longer understood, her legs instinctively trying to close... but the slime did not give her the chance.
A series of micro-tentacles immediately activated, clinging to the hollows of her thighs, gripping her hips with inhuman precision. They did not hold her by force.
They kept her open.
Veronica moaned between uncontrollable bursts of laughter, unable to manage the simultaneous assault on her body.
For while the main tentacle traced long caresses on her pulsating intimacy, her breasts were subjected to another type of torment.
The filaments that had wrapped around her chest tightened slightly, compressing her already taut curves. Each undulation of the slime seemed to amplify the sensation, intensifying the pressure around her swollen breasts.
And then, the feather-tentacles returned.
— HHHHHAHAHAHA AHHHNNH NOOOHHOHOHOHOH !!
They focused on her nipples, tracing tiny circles on the erect areolas, tickling the already heated skin by the aphrodisiac fluids.
Veronica arched her back, her chest bouncing under the effect of the exquisite torture, her nipples standing erect under the repeated caresses, electrified by the shivers of pleasure and humiliation that assailed her.
And it wasn't over. Her feet.
They were offered. Naked. Delivered at the mercy of the micro-tentacles that awaited only a signal. They had prepared her. Now, they were launching the attack. A first caress under the sole of her right foot. Light. Soft. A simple pressure from the tip of a warm, moist tentacle.
— HHHAHAHAAAA NOOOOHAHAHAHHAHHA NOT M-MY FEET—!!!
But the slime had no intention of sparing her. The caresses became more insistent. The micro-tentacles slipped between her trembling toes, exploring every fold, every hypersensitive crevice. They traced slow lines under the arch of her foot, moving up along her heel, grazing the base of her toes before starting over.
Veronica couldn't take it anymore. Her entire body was held hostage by this symphony of stimulations that played with her nerves like an instrument. Her sex, soaked in the aphrodisiac fluid, throbbed under the slow, repetitive caresses of the main tentacle. Her belly contracted under the waves of uncontrollable heat that consumed her.
Her chest, tightly held, shivered under the calculated tickles of the creature. Each movement amplified her state of absolute submission. And her feet... Her poor feet, over which she had no control, trembled and squirmed under the insidious caresses. They were unable to escape the methodical torture of the micro-tentacles that grazed them with sadistic gentleness.
Veronica's laughter changed. It was no longer just uncontrollable bursts of laughter. It was something else. A deeper, raspier sound, interspersed with gasping moans, trembling breaths that betrayed the inevitable. She threw her head back, her mouth half-open, searching for air.
— Nnhh—ahhh—hhnnnnnnn...!
She was on the edge. And the slime knew it. It slowed down slightly, as if to make her languish, as if to savor the moment when she could no longer fight. Veronica's body was nothing more than a field of shivers and uncontrolled convulsions, an untuned instrument under the slime's grip that played on every chord of her sensitivity.
Her breathing was erratic, her chest rising at an erratic pace, her belly contracting with each new stimulation. She was still laughing, by reflex, but her bursts of laughter were intertwined with feverish panting, trembling sighs. And then... she felt it. The main tentacle, the one that already covered her sex, changed.
Its previously liquid and slippery texture firmed up slightly. It was no longer just a diffuse caress, a warm wave that undulated against her. Now, it pressed. Firm, dense, a troubling imitation of something more real, more tangible. Veronica moaned, a choked gasp escaping from her parted lips.
— Hhhhnnn... ahhhh... n-no...
But she knew. She knew it wasn't an absolute "no." It was a vain "no," a "no" that had no strength left. And the slime knew it too. The tentacle that enveloped her slid slowly, imprinting a rhythmic pressure against her throbbing intimacy. It left trails of aphrodisiac fluid that made the heat in her lower abdomen rise to an unbearable level.
Then... something else. A second appendage. Thinner. It moved cautiously, testing, grazing. Veronica convulsed, her breath catching as she felt the cold, slippery contact against her other orifice.
— Hhhhhaaaahh !!!
Her body reacted immediately, a spasm running through her from head to toe. Her legs trembled on their own, her thighs trying to close, but the micro-tentacles holding her open gave her no chance. The slime did not penetrate her. Not yet. It only grazed, in slow circles, in subtle caresses, as if testing her receptiveness, as if waiting for her to yield entirely before going further.
Veronica shook her head frantically, her fingers clenched in the void, her back arching under the intensity of the multiple stimulations that overwhelmed her. And as if that wasn't enough... The feather-tentacles that played with her breasts intensified their dance. Until then, they had contented themselves with teasing, drawing light arabesques around her hardened nipples, provoking surges of pleasure mixed with tickles.
But now... Now, they vibrated. They pulsed in sync with the movements of the tentacles between her legs, with the heat rising within her.
— HHHAHAHAHA AHHH NOOOHHHOHOOO !!
Her breasts bounced under the intensity of the stimulation, her nipples hardened to the extreme, tortured by insidious circles, tickled and caressed at the same time, in a rhythm that made her brain lose all bearings. And below... Her feet were still at the mercy of the micro-tentacles. They did not let go.
They grazed the soles of her feet, traced invisible lines under her toes, played with the hypersensitive skin of her heels, exploiting every spasm, every nervous jolt. Her toes curled under the assault, her legs jerked in the void, her head thrown back, her lips searching for breath she could no longer find. She no longer knew where to turn.
Her sex was pounded by increasingly powerful waves of heat. Her other orifice was tested, explored, caressed, in a calculated rhythm to break her last barriers. Her breasts shivered under the vibrating tickles, each electric wave sending pulsations to her belly, taut with anticipation. Her feet endured a sweet but uninterrupted torment, depriving her of any support, forcing her to surrender entirely to the sensations.
She felt her own body betraying her. Her muscles no longer responded. Her laughter was broken, interspersed with wet moans, unfinished pleas, trembling gasps. Veronica was nothing more than a knot of nerves on fire, a disjointed puppet under the slime's relentless assault. Every fiber of her being vibrated under the incessant stimulations—her breasts quivering under the vibrating feathers, her belly convulsing under the calculated caresses, her feet clenched under the relentless filaments that teased her hypersensitive toes.
And yet... What was to come surpassed everything. She felt it before she could even understand it. A change. A shift in the moist, charged air around her. The thick tentacle, the one that undulated against her sex in a hypnotic game, suddenly contracted. Its soft, slippery texture firmed up. It became denser, harder, more real. And then... it pushed.
— Nnhh hihihAHH hahAHH not !!
Her mouth opened in a choked cry, but no sound really came out. It was a jolt, a brutal wave of heat that exploded in her lower abdomen as her intimacy was invaded in one go. Her head threw back, her damp hair sticking to her neck, her body arching in the void. But the worst... The worst was the second one.
The one that had infiltrated with such patience, grazing, testing, teasing. The one she had tried to ignore, to refuse, to push away in a last surge of control. It also pushed. At the same time. A double shock. A double invasion.
— AAAAHHHHHHHNNNNHHH !!! N-Not my ASS !
The cry that escaped her was heart-wrenching. A total convulsion shook her body. Every muscle tensed, every nerve crisped under the impact of this double possession. She couldn't prepare for it. It was too much. Too sudden. Too deep. Too intense. Her flesh instinctively tightened around the intruders, but the slime was not just inert matter.
It adapted immediately. Its softness absorbed the shock of Veronica's involuntary contraction, then... it undulated. A first tremor. A warm pulsation. And that's when she felt the fluid. Thick, slippery, burning. It oozed from the tentacles in slow waves, soaking her insides, impregnating her walls, flowing into her like sweet poison. She gasped for breath.
Her trembling fingers flailed uselessly. Her legs, seized by spasms, attempted a final retreat, a last surge of opposition. But her own body no longer belonged to her.
— Hhhaahnnn—nnnhhhAHHAHA—haaahh— !!!
The laughter. It was still there. Broken, uncontrollable, transformed into something more. Her breasts bounced with the jolts. Her nipples, already tortured by the feather caresses, became the convergence point of unbearable sensations. Each thrust resonated all the way there. Each internal vibration echoed on her external nerves.
Her feet, still prisoners of the playful filaments, were subjected to the same rhythm. Each undulation within her was reflected in her toes. Her feet contracted with each pulsation, her toes splayed with each spasm, as if her body sought to expel the sensation by any means. But there was no escape. The slime synchronized everything. Each thrust triggered a stimulation elsewhere.
Pressure against her breasts. A graze on her ribs. A discharge under her feet. A loop of pleasure, non-stop, relentless, endless. Veronica drifted. Her consciousness crumbled under the escalating intensity. She was nothing more than a submerged body. A nervous doll, shaken by increasingly brutal jolts, torn between pain and pleasure, lost in an unstoppable abyss of excitement.
She felt her belly hollowing out. Her breath catching. Her laughter dying in a broken gasp. She could no longer stop it. The tension in her belly was on the verge of explosion, a scorching heat coiled around her nerves, ready to shatter into a thousand pieces. Each push of the slime within her, each humid and burning pulsation, added a new layer to the unbearable pressure consuming her from within.
And then... Everything imploded.
— HHHAAAAAAAHHHHHHNNNNNNNGHHH !!!
Her body contracted violently, a wave of spasms sweeping from her lower abdomen to the tips of her fingers clenched in the gelatinous matter. Her back arched in an almost painful curve, her hips jerking on their own, seeking deeper, more senseless contact. Her throat choked on a cry, an uncontrollable mix of broken laughter, trembling gasps, and tearing moans.
Her varnished toes curled sharply, as if her entire body sought to retain the inevitable, to contain the explosion. But there was nothing left to contain. Pleasure burst within her like a tidal wave. Every muscle was seized by convulsions, her belly hollowed out violently, her thighs trembled under the slime's unrelenting assault that continued to undulate, to press, to pulse within her, amplifying the orgasm to absurdity.
Her bare feet, hypersensitive, were still tortured by the playful filaments, synchronized with the jolts that shook her entire being.
— Hhahahhhah—HHAAAHHHH—AAAAAAHNNH—!!!
She was no longer really laughing. Her bursts of laughter choked, transformed into gasps of pleasure, broken gasps. She no longer knew where she was. Her body too shaken, too sensitized, too overwhelmed by this storm of shivers, pulsations, scorching heat. And yet... The slime did not stop.
It prolonged the explosion, spread it to every corner of her body, making each wave stronger, more uncontrollable, more crushing. Her belly contracted, her thighs clenched and opened with each spasm, her breasts bounced with the convulsions. And as her mind completely capsized, a final jolt, a deeper push, a stronger discharge...
— AAAAHHHHNNNNGHHHHH—HHHAAAAAHHHH !!!
The orgasm annihilated her. Her head lolled to the side, her semi-closed eyelids, her parted lips letting out a final trembling moan, a last exhausted, broken, control-drained laughter. A long shiver ran down her spine, her legs trembled in a final convulsion, and then... Silence. An absolute void. An after-orgasm that never ended.
She was still trembling, her body still prisoner to the phantom jolts, her belly palpitating with the remnants of the infernal pulsations. The moist heat of the slime enveloped her almost entirely, a moving shell that molded her being to the slow and inexorable rhythm of its undulations. She had no more grip, no support. Her fingers, once clenched in the void, were now swallowed, her wrists sucked into a gluey softness that held them in suspension.
Her arms slid slowly along her body, trapped by the living matter that slowly brought them back against her sides. The slime imposed a new posture on her.
A Precise Adjustment As if sculpting her surrender.
The gelatinous filaments wrapped around her hips, gently tightening their grip before lifting her in a fluid motion.
She felt her pelvis pivot, her legs bend slightly, then straighten as a larger tentacle coiled around her ankles.
Her thighs, initially closed when she was moved, were gradually forced open once again.
Slowly.
Metronomically.
Veronica's muscles resisted for a fraction of a second, an instinctive reflex of modesty...
...before yielding completely, surrendering to the slime, offering herself to the creature shaping her to its will.
Her legs spread, adjusting millimeter by millimeter under the pressure of the appendages.
Until she had no choice but to expose every curve, every shiver, every nervous tremor that rippled across her damp skin.
And finally, the last adjustments.
The slime gently pressed her back against an invisible surface, a cocoon that held her suspended, her skin floating in the pulsating moisture.
Her shoulders arched slightly, forcing her chest to thrust forward.
Her breasts, crushed under the weight of her own body, were released from the gelatinous mass, emerging into the open air with an uncontrollable shiver.
Their heaviness was accentuated, offered, quivering with spasms from the residual pleasure.
Her belly trembled, still trapped in the grip, undulating with the waves of heat that still coursed through her body.
She was trapped.
Trapped in a living cocoon, a chamber of sensations where her pleasure and submission were the only anchors.
Her face was bathed in a feverish glow.
Her lips, still trembling, parted in a weak gasp, her semi-closed eyes drowned in an ocean of uncontrollable sensations.
And as the transformation of her posture was completed, the slime began to move again.
The two mutated tentacles, still embedded within her, resumed their pulsations.
But this time...
They were synchronized.
A perfect cadence.
A deep thrust, a calculated caress, then...
Their movements intertwined, adjusting to the primal rhythm of her body. Each jolt of pleasure intensified their grip, erasing any barrier between her body and the slime's will.
She no longer existed as a separate entity. She was an instrument. A perfect toy, adjusted to the millimeter to resonate in harmony with the monster possessing her.
Her mouth opened in a nervous laugh, a laugh on the brink of collapse, where every jolt was a sob of pleasure too intense, too unbearable.
— HhhahahhhhaAAhh nnhhAAAAHHH...
Her body was shaken by a shiver.
Her mind, already engulfed in the abyss of pleasure, no longer knew where to turn.
Too many simultaneous assaults. Too many pulsations.
Her chest heaved, taut, exposed to the moist air, where every invisible caress was a cruel reminder of what awaited her.
Her feet floated beneath her, still at the mercy of the playful appendages, where every tickle on the soles of her feet, every wet lick under her arch sent an uncontrollable shiver through her entire body.
But the worst...
The worst was what was happening inside the living cocoon.
The two tentacles filling her continued their slow and infernal dance, perfectly synchronized, calculated to bring her to a point of no return, with nothing she could do to stop it.
Then... She felt the change. First, a subtle shift.
The excrescence stimulating her deeply, already too large, too dense, too present, altered under her grip, releasing fluid.
Its texture changed, becoming more compact, more defined.
Then there was a pulsation, followed by another.
A slow circular movement that swirled inside, making her entire body jerk in a devastating spasm.
— Hhhhhhhnnnnnnn... !!
Her voice broke, unable to choose between a laugh and a scream.
Then more pulsations. Regular. Like waves. Like circles expanding within her, pressing, retreating, and returning even stronger.
The tentacle was no longer a simple appendage. It had become something else.
Smooth balls, small at first, then increasingly pronounced, slowly slid in, one by one, filling, stretching, exploring, imposing their own rhythm on her body, forcing her to follow their pace.
A pressure... Then a release. Another pressure...
And each time one of the mutating spheres passed, her body arched instinctively, obeying the tempo, unable to restrain the animalistic and uncontrollable reaction that seized her.
Her legs contracted, a burning moisture slowly trickling down her chest, offered to the inevitable.
The feather-tentacles playing with her breasts intensified at the same time, as if they knew.
— Hhhhaaaaahhh—hhahahAHHAAAHH
Vibrations, this time. Directly on her nipples.
A calculated friction, slow at first, then synchronized with the waves rising within her.
And below... The major tentacle, the one filling her entirely, tightened, adopting the same rhythm as the other, as if they were communicating.
Pressure above.
Pressure below.
Vibration on her breasts.
Stimulation on her feet.
A perfect cycle.
A infernal gear of which she was the captive prey.
She could no longer stop it. She was caught in her own collapse.
Her entire body tensed in an arc, trembling, struck by a wave she could no longer contain, rising from the depths of her being.
Her feet trembled in the air, her toes grasping at a nonexistent void, seeking support, a way to stabilize herself, but there was none.
Then... the moment when everything tipped.
The deep tentacle within her emitted a final wave, an expansion, a contraction, then a final pulsation stronger than all the others. And then... she exploded.
— HAAAAAAAAAHHHHNNNNNN !!!
A scream torn from her, a gasp cut short by an uncontrollable spasm, an explosion in waves, leaving her body drained, trembling, convulsing uncontrollably, her anus contracting and relaxing on its own.
Her hands clenched, her feet tensed, her back arched, her face bathed in tears and ecstasy, unable to know where she was, unable to know where she ended. And finally...
Silence. A heavy, warm silence, where only the sound of her trembling breath filled the space.
The slime did not release her yet... but for the first time... it calmed.
Its grip did not disappear but became softer, more tender, like a satisfied lover caressing his exhausted prey.
Her breath was ragged, her chest rising slowly, her belly still contracting with the remnants of pleasure.
Her half-closed eyes, her mind floating somewhere between dream and reality, her body still imbued with the waves coursing through it...
Her entire femininity had become a zone of continuous ecstasy, a perfectly tuned instrument, where every stimulation found its echo, where every contact led her further, lower... or perhaps higher.
A strangled cry escaped her throat.
A shattering, desperate mix of laughter and ecstasy intertwined. And in that final spasm, Veronica collapsed.
Her chest heaved one last time, her sex convulsed in surrender, her feet trembled in their final, futile struggle, and her anus continued to contract more forcefully, as if trying to keep the balls inside her...
Her feet, still ticklish despite the firm ground under her heels, seemed to want to escape with every step. Her ribs retained the shiver of the machine's assaults, a sensitivity exacerbated by the mere contact of her blouse against her skin. And between her thighs... a residual heat refused to die down, awakening with the slightest rub of her stockings against her skin.
She forced herself to take a deep breath, to relax her shoulders. Regain control before going home. Before facing Henry.
The smile she wore as she walked through the door was almost natural.
Dinner was already being prepared. Henry was busy in the kitchen while the children played in the living room. A mundane scene, a reassuring normality... yet, Veronica could still feel every nerve in her body quivering with a burning secret.
— So, you were at the new neighbor's place? Henry asked curiously, pouring wine into a glass.
She knew he would ask. She knew she would have to lie.
— Yes, she said with feigned lightness. He offered me a small job as a tester for his wellness experiments. Research on relaxation and nerve stimulation.
Henry raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.
— You and science?
Veronica laughed, pretending to be offended.
— Well, it was interesting. Surprising, but... interesting.
Henry nodded, taking a sip of wine.
— It will be a change from the routine. You're always at home.
A shadow passed over Veronica's eyes. If only he knew...
A shiver ran down her spine, reactivating memories too recent, too vivid. She fought the urge to clench her thighs under the table.
— Yes, she whispered, averting her gaze. It will be a change.
During the evening with her family, she did everything to act normally.
She smiled at the children, laughed at Henry's jokes, and gave him distracted kisses on the cheek. Everything was perfect. She was the ideal mother, the exemplary wife. But nothing could erase the echo of the afternoon's experience.
Every sound around her seemed distant. Every gesture reminded her of another touch, another sensation. When she leaned down to pick up a toy, the mere pressure of her skirt fabric against her stomach reminded her of the leather chair. When she brushed her own arm, it was the caress of the mechanical hands she still felt.
She had thought it would pass. But as the evening wore on, the desire grew stronger.
That night, Henry slept soundly beside her, oblivious to the turmoil consuming her. Veronica lay on her back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, mouth slightly open. The sheets slid against her naked skin, brushing the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Each contact awakened memories of the machine. She clenched her legs.
The heat between her thighs was still there. A vestige of the experience, an indelible imprint left by invisible fingers, insidious pulses. She had never felt this way before. Her stomach contracted gently under the weight of anticipation, of longing. Her mind struggled, but her body demanded.
— No... she murmured weakly to herself, turning on her side, seeking sleep as an escape.
But she fell asleep dreaming of a leather chair, cold and precise fingers, unbearable and exquisite tickles.
The morning silence was deafening.
Henry had gone to work. The children were at school, and Veronica was alone in this too quiet, too empty house.
She tried to distract herself. She cleaned, drank coffee, opened a book she didn't read. But every thought returned to him. To him.
Dr. VonTicklet. The laboratory. The machine. Her own voice echoing in the room... between laughter and moans.
She passed by a mirror. She stopped. Her reflection caught her eye. Another woman.
Her cheeks were rosier than usual, her lips too moist, too full. Her blouse, slightly wrinkled, clung to her taut chest.
She placed a hand on her neck, on her shoulder, shivering at her own touch.
— I won't go back there...
She whispered it. But she didn't believe it for a second.
The sound of paper sliding under the door startled Veronica. An electric shiver ran up her neck as she slowly approached. A slim, elegant black envelope. She opened it.
"You showed great sensitivity to the previous experience. I would like to deepen our tests. If you are ready... I await you this afternoon."
Her stomach tightened.
Her fingers trembled as she closed the letter, and she began to pace.
— It's just a test. Nothing more.
Her breathing quickened slightly.
— I'm just... curious.
Her black-painted nails nervously scratched the tip of her thumb.
But she knew. She knew. Her heart was beating too fast. She wanted to go back.
She went upstairs to her room. Opened her closet.
Her fingers slid over the fabrics... and she unconsciously chose something too provocative.
A black blouse, tighter than usual. A skirt even shorter. Seamed stockings that elongated her legs. Heels too high.
She looked at herself in the mirror, biting her lower lip.
— This is ridiculous...
But she changed nothing.
She stopped at the door with one last hesitation. She could still turn back. Forget all this. Resume her normal life.
Her hands trembled as she turned the doorknob. She stepped forward. Her heels clicked on the pavement. The manor had never seemed so imposing.
The afternoon was warmer than the day before. But Veronica felt cold as she approached the door. She raised her hand to knock... But she didn't need to. The door opened before she even touched the wood.
VonTicklet stood there. His gaze slowly slid over her, like a scalpel analyzing every detail, every weakness.
A slow smile stretched his lips. His gaze slid over her, detailing every inch of her body with the clinical precision of a scientist... and the calculated appreciation of a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
Veronica Sweet, in all her offered splendor. Her black blouse, tighter than it should be, hugged the curve of her breasts, the silk taut with each slightly trembling breath. The fabric was buttoned just high enough to remain decent, but not enough to hide the swell of her cleavage, that subtle hollow where heat seemed to accumulate.
Her pencil skirt, too short to be modest, precisely outlined the alluring curve of her hips and the firmness of her stocking-clad thighs. The seams of her stockings, fine dark lines, ran up her endless legs until they disappeared under the hem.
VonTicklet let his gaze linger a second too long on her vertiginous heels, black and shiny, which forced the arch of her foot, stretching the skin under her fine stockings. He knew they made her more aware of each step, each pressure on the ground, each little shiver of instability.
Her nails, impeccably painted black, were like an extra detail. A silent confession. She had thought about her outfit. She had chosen it knowing exactly what effect it would have, and now, she stood there, shivering, falsely confident... like prey that had just entered the cage. VonTicklet smiled.
— You are even more ravishing today, Veronica.
His voice slid over her skin like an invisible caress. Veronica straightened slightly, crossing her arms under her chest as if to compose herself.
— And you are still as direct, Dr. VonTicklet, she replied, raising an eyebrow.
He did not respond immediately. He approached.
His step was slow, measured, each movement carefully weighed. He stopped just a few centimeters away, close enough for her to smell the subtle scent of his skin, that intoxicating mix of musk and leather, with a hint of something... chemical.
Veronica did not move. But he saw her neck tense slightly, like a thread about to snap.
— It's not directness... he murmured. It's precision.
His steel eyes plunged into hers, and she knew he could see everything she was trying to hide.
Her slightly faster breath. The tension in her shoulders. The imperceptible trembling of her fingers on the fabric of her skirt. She swallowed.
— So, she said, trying to sound light, what is today's experiment?
VonTicklet tilted his head slightly, savoring the moment before answering.
— A unique sensory experience. I have something absolutely fascinating to show you.
His smile widened, almost predatory.
— Come.
The manor was even quieter than the day before.
Only their footsteps echoed on the marble floor of the hall, the sound of Veronica's heels breaking the heavy silence of the place.
She walked slightly behind him, trying to focus on her surroundings, on the elegant architecture, on the heavy velvet curtains that absorbed the light.
But all she could think about... was her own body.
And him, walking with absolute confidence, as if he knew exactly what was going to happen.
— Tell me, Veronica...
She started slightly at the sound of his voice breaking the silence.
— Yes?
He slowed down slightly, forcing her to walk beside him.
— After our last session... did you sleep well?
Her heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth, hesitated. He was looking at her too intently.
— Of course, she replied with a small smile. Why do you ask?
VonTicklet stopped abruptly. Veronica barely had time to react before he turned to her, an amused gleam in his eyes.
— Really?
She felt her stomach knot. He knew. Of course, he knew. She looked away, nervously smoothing her skirt with her fingertips.
— I... maybe I had trouble falling asleep, she admitted reluctantly.
VonTicklet took another step toward her.
— Because your body was craving something else?
Her breath caught. The silence between them became palpable.
Veronica could have denied it. She could have laughed, changed the subject, played the indifferent woman. But she couldn't do it. Because the mere thought of lying... excited her even more. She breathed softly, looking back up at him.
— And if it were?
VonTicklet smiled.
— Then I think today's experiment will be... memorable.
They finally reached a massive door, more austere than the others.
Dark metal, no visible handle. A simple numeric keypad embedded on the side.
Veronica felt a strange tension in the air.
This was different from the day before.
The previous experience, despite its intensity, still had a semblance of control, of implicit consent.
Here... Something unknown awaited her behind that door.
VonTicklet brushed the keypad, entering a code. A beep sounded, followed by a metallic click. Then he turned to her.
He said nothing. He simply placed a hand against the door... and nodded to her.
— After you, Veronica.
She stopped, hesitated. Her instinct screamed at her not to pass through that door. But the heat between her thighs was already there, throbbing, irresistible. She closed her eyes for a second, exhaled softly... and stepped forward.
As soon as she took a step inside, a shiver ran down her spine. The sharp click of the door closing behind her echoed like a sentence.
Veronica turned around immediately. There was no handle. No visible exit. Just that cold, smooth wall that had just cut her off from the outside world.
The air was thicker here. Charged with a strange humidity that clung to her skin, that weighed down her clothes. A creeping heat, unsettling, almost intimate.
The room was not empty. Before her, the gelatinous mass stirred slowly, pulsing with a silent life. Its oily reflections shimmered under the green light, ripples running across its smooth surface like a lake under an invisible wind.
She didn't know what it was, but her instinct screamed at her not to move. And yet...
A tremor. An almost imperceptible movement in the sea of gel.
Something emerged from it. A thin, translucent filament that rose slowly, swaying like an aquatic plant seeking the current. Then another.
They floated in the air for a few seconds... before moving toward her.
Veronica clenched her fists. Her back pressed harder against the cold wall, her breathing already too fast. Her heels clicked slightly on the floor as she tried to take a step back, but there was no more back.
Then, one of the filaments touched her leg. A mere brush. Light as a feather.
— Hhhnn !
She tensed immediately, a violent shiver running up her spine. Her calf trembled involuntarily, her skin shivering under the cold and slightly viscous touch of the tentacle.
She wanted to shake the thing off her leg, but as soon as she moved, a second filament emerged.
This one wrapped around her wrist. Her breath caught.
The first reflex was to pull, to tear her arm from this foreign grip, but the hold... held firm.
It was not a rigid or painful restraint. The gelatinous material molded to her skin, like latex heated to body temperature. For a second, she even had the impression that it was breathing around her wrist, adjusting to her, adapting.
— Let go of me!
Her voice rang out in the room, but her own anxiety made it tremble.
The slime did not let go, quite the opposite.
A third tentacle, larger, thicker, rose slowly... and slid along her arm, exploring the taut silk of her blouse.
Veronica shuddered in horror.
Her heart was beating too fast. Her other hand, still free, clenched against the wall, her black nails scratching the cold surface. She tried to grasp what was holding her, but the gelatinous mass seized her second hand.
Her scream choked in her throat as her feet left the ground.
The slime had lifted her.
At first just a few centimeters, a slight shift out of balance. But already, her world was tilting.
— Impossible...
Her body was giving way beneath her, her muscles reacting on their own. Instead, the gelatinous material enveloping her wrists and calves adapted to her, as if it were testing her reaction, as if it were learning her limits.
Her fingers, clenched, closed on emptiness.
And that's when she felt the first intrusion.
A finer, more insidious thread slid under her skirt.
— No, stop!
She tried to clench her legs, but the slime was already infiltrating, molding to every line of her skin, every contour of her tensed thighs.
Rising. Slowly. Deliberately.
Veronica jolted, her hips seeking to escape an elusive presence. Just a brush, a moist murmur against the silk of her stockings.
But the further it advanced... the more she felt. The fabric of her clothes did not resist. The fabric disintegrated under the insidious caresses of the slime, slowly blending with her shivering flesh.
— Nnnhh... no...
Her fingers trembled, seeking non-existent support. She was suspended, offered to a presence impossible to anticipate.
And then... A different sensation. Her hands. Or rather... what was left of them. Her fingers... were no longer exposed to the air.
She looked down. The creature had swallowed them.
Her palms were engulfed up to the wrists in the translucent substance, which hugged and caressed every curve of her phalanges, every hollow of her skin.
A warm breeze passed over her belly, like a barely whispered promise. Then, a touch. Light. Almost non-existent. But Veronica felt it immediately.
A ghostly caress that danced against her skin, snaking between the buttons of her blouse, following the fragile curve of her ribs.
— HHhhnnn haaaahh... !
Her body jerked suddenly. She laughed before she even understood. Before her brain allowed her to.
— Nnnnnoo hhahAHH haaah stop !! !!
Tiny filaments, as fine as hair, slipped between each bone, tickling the sensitive flesh between her ribs. They didn't scratch her, didn't press her... they slid. A meticulous ballet, insidiously precise, playing with every millimeter of skin.
The fine silk of her blouse evaporated in tatters, disappearing on contact with the moving substance.
As if the creature decided where and when the fabric should give way, opening her outfit piece by piece, slowly revealing her trembling ribcage, the flesh of her belly contracted by laughter, and the beginning of her breasts, still protected by lace.
— HhahahaHHAAA—AAAH !! NOOOHOHOH NOT THERE !!
She arched her back, her spine twisting in the void. But she had no support. Just the air and the torture.
And then, her feet. She felt the difference immediately. The contact of her heels with the creature... disappeared. The slime swallowed them.
— NNhhHHahh!!
She cast a frightened glance beneath her, just in time to see her heels sink into the gelatinous mass. Absorbed. Swallowed. Erased.
Her bare feet, still sheathed in silk, floated for a moment in the void... Then, the new contact. Something stirred under her toes.
— Oh... no.
A viscous growth took shape, different from the others. It didn't seize her. It vibrated. A brutal shiver ran from her neck to her ankles.
— Hhnnnnnnnnnoooo HhahahAAAHAAAH !!
A soft, almost downy mass brushed the underside of her toes, playing with the taut nylon, tracing infernal lines on her skin.
Her painted toes tried to curl up, to escape, to find shelter... But there was none. The slime followed them.
Each time she squirmed, the brush adapted, shaving the arch of her foot, tickling the tips of her toes, tracing invisible lines under the ultra-sensitive sole of her feet.
And meanwhile, her nylon was melting.
Little by little, the silk dissolved under the stimulations, gradually exposing her bare skin. Veronica's laughter became hysterical.
— HHHHAHAHHAHAHA !!!
She struggled, but her legs were already convulsing, pulling against the creature, desperately trying to escape the appendages exploring the inside of her thighs.
But her skirt no longer existed. Or rather... It still existed in places. Progressively destroyed, in tatters...
Enough to reveal her trembling hips, the obsessive contrast of the black lace of her garter belt against her burning skin, and the taut silk of her stockings, already clinging to the growing moisture between her legs.
Her chest heaved frantically, her breasts shivering under the lace, oppressed under the unbearable tension.
Filaments tightened around her chest, pressing against the fragile fabric, without dissolving it yet.
As if it was savoring every second of her torment, every involuntary movement of her body, every uncontrolled convulsion.
Veronica struggled weakly, her wrists still trapped in the gelatinous grip of the slime. Her arms trembled, her breath was short, and every nerve in her body was on alert under the relentless caresses that ran over her skin. Her chest, already shaken by uncontrollable shivers, was the next territory to be conquered.
She felt the tightening around her chest.
The slime's filaments had gently wrapped around her breasts, tracing invisible lines on her quivering flesh. They pulsed slightly, vibrating at an imperceptible frequency, spreading an insidious warmth through her skin.
— Hhhnnnn... hhaha... nooon...!!
Her laughter, fragile, choked in a gasp. A tension grew within her, an inconceivable mix of apprehension and forbidden desire.
Then the lace of her bra began to dissolve.
First in a simple tingling, then in a slow effervescence, as if the fabric was melting under an invisible heat.
— Hhahaha... haahh nooooo ! My brahahahaha !!
She realized too late what was happening.
In an evanescent sigh, the black lace disappeared completely, leaving behind only the bare skin of her chest, exposed to the warm air of the room.
Her breasts bounced freely, relieved of all constraints, gently undulating with the effect of her erratic breathing.
— Aahhh !!
Before she could even react, two new growths slid through the air, finer, softer, immediately brushing against her erect nipples.
— HhhahhAHHHAHHAHA !!!
Her scream was lost in uncontrollable laughter.
The tentacles didn't press, didn't force anything. They just played. Teased.
Their downy surface traced slow circles around her hypersensitive areolas, awakening every millimeter of skin, exacerbating every already present shiver.
— NNNNNOOOOO HAHAHHAHA N NOHOT THEHE, NOT THEHERE HAHAHHAHAHHA !!
Her chest jerked under the stimulations, her nipples standing erect under the effect of the infernal caresses.
Each touch sent a wave of heat into her belly, an electric shock that ran down her trembling thighs.
But it wasn't over. Not yet.
Beneath her, where her body vainly tensed against the tentacle that already nestled against her sex, a subtle change had just occurred.
The texture of the tentacle had changed. It was no longer as ethereal, as elusive. It was densifying. It was becoming firmer, warmer... more tangible.
— Hhhhhh... ahhhh...
Veronica immediately felt the difference. It was no longer just pressure against her pelvis.
It was contact.
Too realistic, too precise contact.
The tentacle mimicked the pressure of a body against hers, its simulated weight against her belly, its diffuse heat seeping between her thighs.
— Nnnnn hihihAHHAHA aaah hah nnnnhaaa!!
Her protest vanished as soon as a new sensation added to the torture.
A viscous nectar escaped from the moving mass, soaking the fine lace of her panties.
— HHHnnnnnnnnnn...!!
The burning wave that followed made her shiver violently, forcing her pelvis to react despite herself.
The black silk of her panties immediately clung to her skin, becoming almost transparent under the effect of the slippery liquid.
Each touch of the tentacle on the soaked fabric sent uncontrollable shivers through her lower back, igniting an unbearable heat within her.
— Hhhahhhnnn... haahhh...!!
She panted, her chest rising and falling with her erratic breathing.
She felt something within her giving way.
A barrier. A last resistance.
The tickling on the inside of her thighs suddenly intensified.
— HHHAAAAAAHHAHAHAHA !!!
Her legs immediately trembled under the renewed attack, her calves nervously contracting as she tried to struggle.
But the more she fought, the more the slime insisted.
The caresses became more precise, deeper, lingering on the most sensitive areas of the inside of her thighs, just a few centimeters from the warm moisture between her legs.
— HHHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHA NOOOHOHOHO MEHEHEHERCYHYHY!!
Her thighs arched, opening despite herself under the relentless torture.
Her body no longer obeyed her.
Worse still... it reacted.
She would have liked to close her legs, to shut them to stop the progression... But the exquisite pain of these perfidious tickles forced her to shake them, to squirm, to twist...
And the more she twisted, the more they opened.
Her own laughter became a sob, a cry of ecstasy broken between hysterical outbursts.
And meanwhile...
Her feet were at the mercy of the finest tentacles.
They had finished dissolving the last shreds of her stockings.
Her bare skin shivered under the unbearably slow caresses that explored every nook of her hypersensitive soles.
A more playful tentacle brushed the arch of her right foot.
— HHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA !!
Her leg convulsed, her foot trying to escape, but the invisible attachments held her perfectly in place.
Then it was the other foot.
A tiny filament tickled the tip of her big toe, tracing an invisible circle.
— HHNNNNNNNAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!!
Her toes quivered, involuntarily spreading under the torture, exposing even more skin to the attack.
Her chest jerked under the stimulations, her nipples pinched, rolled under the light caresses of the feather-tentacles.
Her panties, soaked, clinging to her pulsating intimacy, quivered under the subtle vibrations of the tentacle that was slowly breaking her in.
The uncontrollable laughter blended into feverish moans. The boundary between torture and pleasure was blurring at a terrifying speed.
Veronica panted, her broken laughter escaping in irregular waves, her body convulsing with uncontrollable spasms. The heat, omnipresent, consumed every inch of her offered skin. She felt the relentless caresses of the slime, each touch awakening shivers that ran down her spine to fade between her trembling thighs.
Her belly contracted under the alternating stimulations, a torturous mix of tickles and wicked caresses, of forced laughter and forbidden panting. Her bare breasts, marked by the dissolution of her bra, bounced to the rhythm of her erratic breathing, her nipples quivering under the effect of the feather-tentacles that never stopped teasing their hypersensitive skin.
But the worst was happening.
There, where the aphrodisiac fluid had already seeped in, soaking the black lace of her panties, sticking the fabric against her burning intimacy... a deeper shiver alerted her to the coming change.
The slime intensified its grip.
The gelatinous substance pressed more firmly against her pelvis, fitting it with a precision that made her gasp, tremble under the unprecedented sensation. The lace, already made almost transparent by the moisture, was now only a symbolic barrier.
— Hhhhnnnn... aahh... nnnoo...!!
Her breath caught as she felt the first wave of dissolution.
The heat suddenly spread, radiating the fabric that still covered her pulsating sex. The lace began to vibrate under the effect of the fusion, the fine structure of the textile slowly disintegrating under the chemical assault of the slime.
It was an impossible sensation.
The silk was evaporating against her skin.
Melting.
Disappearing.
Barely giving her time to realize what was happening.
— Hhhaaaa hahhHAHAHAHA NOOOOOOOHOOOO !!
An uncontrollable spasm arched her back, her neck thrown back as her thighs parted under the shock.
The fluid was no longer contained. It was on her, directly.
A warm, slippery trickle stretched along her bare skin, slowly running between her sensitive folds, seeping into every nook.
— Hhhhhnnnnnnn—aaaaahhhhhh...!!
Her hips trembled under the effect of the contact, an uncontrollable spasm shaking her. Her entire body was seized by an uncontrollable wave of heat, every nerve saturated by this humiliating and exquisite sensation at the same time.
She wanted to flee, struggle, close her legs... but she couldn't.
The slime let the fluid act, letting Veronica become aware of every drop seeping against her bare skin, of every involuntary tremor of her body that was gradually giving in.
And then... A caress. Just one. Soft.
An imperceptible shiver, an almost imperceptible contact, where the heat was most unbearable.
— HHHHHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA !!!
She exploded again in hysterical laughter, interspersed with a stifled moan.
The dense and troubling liquid slowly spread over her skin, insinuating itself into every receptive fold of her flesh, tracing invisible lines of alienating desire. Veronica could feel its strange texture, warmer than her own body, denser, more slippery.
— Hhhhhnnnn—hhhaaa...!
The first touch on her sex made her shiver violently, her hips seeking support that did not exist, her back arching under the intensity of the sensation.
The creature did not penetrate. It brushed. It tasted.
A slow, sinuous back-and-forth, a liquid caress against her bare flesh, accompanied by a wave of electrifying heat. Each movement of the tentacle left behind a trail of aphrodisiac fluid, and the effect was immediate.
— Hhhhhhaaaahh... hhhnnnnn.. Please dohohohon't fuhuhuhu.. Fuhuhuhuck me !! Please !
Her belly contracted sharply under the rise of a pleasure she no longer understood, her legs instinctively trying to close... but the slime did not give her the chance.
A series of micro-tentacles immediately activated, clinging to the hollows of her thighs, gripping her hips with inhuman precision. They did not hold her by force.
They kept her open.
Veronica moaned between uncontrollable bursts of laughter, unable to manage the simultaneous assault on her body.
For while the main tentacle traced long caresses on her pulsating intimacy, her breasts were subjected to another type of torment.
The filaments that had wrapped around her chest tightened slightly, compressing her already taut curves. Each undulation of the slime seemed to amplify the sensation, intensifying the pressure around her swollen breasts.
And then, the feather-tentacles returned.
— HHHHHAHAHAHA AHHHNNH NOOOHHOHOHOHOH !!
They focused on her nipples, tracing tiny circles on the erect areolas, tickling the already heated skin by the aphrodisiac fluids.
Veronica arched her back, her chest bouncing under the effect of the exquisite torture, her nipples standing erect under the repeated caresses, electrified by the shivers of pleasure and humiliation that assailed her.
And it wasn't over. Her feet.
They were offered. Naked. Delivered at the mercy of the micro-tentacles that awaited only a signal. They had prepared her. Now, they were launching the attack. A first caress under the sole of her right foot. Light. Soft. A simple pressure from the tip of a warm, moist tentacle.
— HHHAHAHAAAA NOOOOHAHAHAHHAHHA NOT M-MY FEET—!!!
But the slime had no intention of sparing her. The caresses became more insistent. The micro-tentacles slipped between her trembling toes, exploring every fold, every hypersensitive crevice. They traced slow lines under the arch of her foot, moving up along her heel, grazing the base of her toes before starting over.
Veronica couldn't take it anymore. Her entire body was held hostage by this symphony of stimulations that played with her nerves like an instrument. Her sex, soaked in the aphrodisiac fluid, throbbed under the slow, repetitive caresses of the main tentacle. Her belly contracted under the waves of uncontrollable heat that consumed her.
Her chest, tightly held, shivered under the calculated tickles of the creature. Each movement amplified her state of absolute submission. And her feet... Her poor feet, over which she had no control, trembled and squirmed under the insidious caresses. They were unable to escape the methodical torture of the micro-tentacles that grazed them with sadistic gentleness.
Veronica's laughter changed. It was no longer just uncontrollable bursts of laughter. It was something else. A deeper, raspier sound, interspersed with gasping moans, trembling breaths that betrayed the inevitable. She threw her head back, her mouth half-open, searching for air.
— Nnhh—ahhh—hhnnnnnnn...!
She was on the edge. And the slime knew it. It slowed down slightly, as if to make her languish, as if to savor the moment when she could no longer fight. Veronica's body was nothing more than a field of shivers and uncontrolled convulsions, an untuned instrument under the slime's grip that played on every chord of her sensitivity.
Her breathing was erratic, her chest rising at an erratic pace, her belly contracting with each new stimulation. She was still laughing, by reflex, but her bursts of laughter were intertwined with feverish panting, trembling sighs. And then... she felt it. The main tentacle, the one that already covered her sex, changed.
Its previously liquid and slippery texture firmed up slightly. It was no longer just a diffuse caress, a warm wave that undulated against her. Now, it pressed. Firm, dense, a troubling imitation of something more real, more tangible. Veronica moaned, a choked gasp escaping from her parted lips.
— Hhhhnnn... ahhhh... n-no...
But she knew. She knew it wasn't an absolute "no." It was a vain "no," a "no" that had no strength left. And the slime knew it too. The tentacle that enveloped her slid slowly, imprinting a rhythmic pressure against her throbbing intimacy. It left trails of aphrodisiac fluid that made the heat in her lower abdomen rise to an unbearable level.
Then... something else. A second appendage. Thinner. It moved cautiously, testing, grazing. Veronica convulsed, her breath catching as she felt the cold, slippery contact against her other orifice.
— Hhhhhaaaahh !!!
Her body reacted immediately, a spasm running through her from head to toe. Her legs trembled on their own, her thighs trying to close, but the micro-tentacles holding her open gave her no chance. The slime did not penetrate her. Not yet. It only grazed, in slow circles, in subtle caresses, as if testing her receptiveness, as if waiting for her to yield entirely before going further.
Veronica shook her head frantically, her fingers clenched in the void, her back arching under the intensity of the multiple stimulations that overwhelmed her. And as if that wasn't enough... The feather-tentacles that played with her breasts intensified their dance. Until then, they had contented themselves with teasing, drawing light arabesques around her hardened nipples, provoking surges of pleasure mixed with tickles.
But now... Now, they vibrated. They pulsed in sync with the movements of the tentacles between her legs, with the heat rising within her.
— HHHAHAHAHA AHHH NOOOHHHOHOOO !!
Her breasts bounced under the intensity of the stimulation, her nipples hardened to the extreme, tortured by insidious circles, tickled and caressed at the same time, in a rhythm that made her brain lose all bearings. And below... Her feet were still at the mercy of the micro-tentacles. They did not let go.
They grazed the soles of her feet, traced invisible lines under her toes, played with the hypersensitive skin of her heels, exploiting every spasm, every nervous jolt. Her toes curled under the assault, her legs jerked in the void, her head thrown back, her lips searching for breath she could no longer find. She no longer knew where to turn.
Her sex was pounded by increasingly powerful waves of heat. Her other orifice was tested, explored, caressed, in a calculated rhythm to break her last barriers. Her breasts shivered under the vibrating tickles, each electric wave sending pulsations to her belly, taut with anticipation. Her feet endured a sweet but uninterrupted torment, depriving her of any support, forcing her to surrender entirely to the sensations.
She felt her own body betraying her. Her muscles no longer responded. Her laughter was broken, interspersed with wet moans, unfinished pleas, trembling gasps. Veronica was nothing more than a knot of nerves on fire, a disjointed puppet under the slime's relentless assault. Every fiber of her being vibrated under the incessant stimulations—her breasts quivering under the vibrating feathers, her belly convulsing under the calculated caresses, her feet clenched under the relentless filaments that teased her hypersensitive toes.
And yet... What was to come surpassed everything. She felt it before she could even understand it. A change. A shift in the moist, charged air around her. The thick tentacle, the one that undulated against her sex in a hypnotic game, suddenly contracted. Its soft, slippery texture firmed up. It became denser, harder, more real. And then... it pushed.
— Nnhh hihihAHH hahAHH not !!
Her mouth opened in a choked cry, but no sound really came out. It was a jolt, a brutal wave of heat that exploded in her lower abdomen as her intimacy was invaded in one go. Her head threw back, her damp hair sticking to her neck, her body arching in the void. But the worst... The worst was the second one.
The one that had infiltrated with such patience, grazing, testing, teasing. The one she had tried to ignore, to refuse, to push away in a last surge of control. It also pushed. At the same time. A double shock. A double invasion.
— AAAAHHHHHHHNNNNHHH !!! N-Not my ASS !
The cry that escaped her was heart-wrenching. A total convulsion shook her body. Every muscle tensed, every nerve crisped under the impact of this double possession. She couldn't prepare for it. It was too much. Too sudden. Too deep. Too intense. Her flesh instinctively tightened around the intruders, but the slime was not just inert matter.
It adapted immediately. Its softness absorbed the shock of Veronica's involuntary contraction, then... it undulated. A first tremor. A warm pulsation. And that's when she felt the fluid. Thick, slippery, burning. It oozed from the tentacles in slow waves, soaking her insides, impregnating her walls, flowing into her like sweet poison. She gasped for breath.
Her trembling fingers flailed uselessly. Her legs, seized by spasms, attempted a final retreat, a last surge of opposition. But her own body no longer belonged to her.
— Hhhaahnnn—nnnhhhAHHAHA—haaahh— !!!
The laughter. It was still there. Broken, uncontrollable, transformed into something more. Her breasts bounced with the jolts. Her nipples, already tortured by the feather caresses, became the convergence point of unbearable sensations. Each thrust resonated all the way there. Each internal vibration echoed on her external nerves.
Her feet, still prisoners of the playful filaments, were subjected to the same rhythm. Each undulation within her was reflected in her toes. Her feet contracted with each pulsation, her toes splayed with each spasm, as if her body sought to expel the sensation by any means. But there was no escape. The slime synchronized everything. Each thrust triggered a stimulation elsewhere.
Pressure against her breasts. A graze on her ribs. A discharge under her feet. A loop of pleasure, non-stop, relentless, endless. Veronica drifted. Her consciousness crumbled under the escalating intensity. She was nothing more than a submerged body. A nervous doll, shaken by increasingly brutal jolts, torn between pain and pleasure, lost in an unstoppable abyss of excitement.
She felt her belly hollowing out. Her breath catching. Her laughter dying in a broken gasp. She could no longer stop it. The tension in her belly was on the verge of explosion, a scorching heat coiled around her nerves, ready to shatter into a thousand pieces. Each push of the slime within her, each humid and burning pulsation, added a new layer to the unbearable pressure consuming her from within.
And then... Everything imploded.
— HHHAAAAAAAHHHHHHNNNNNNNGHHH !!!
Her body contracted violently, a wave of spasms sweeping from her lower abdomen to the tips of her fingers clenched in the gelatinous matter. Her back arched in an almost painful curve, her hips jerking on their own, seeking deeper, more senseless contact. Her throat choked on a cry, an uncontrollable mix of broken laughter, trembling gasps, and tearing moans.
Her varnished toes curled sharply, as if her entire body sought to retain the inevitable, to contain the explosion. But there was nothing left to contain. Pleasure burst within her like a tidal wave. Every muscle was seized by convulsions, her belly hollowed out violently, her thighs trembled under the slime's unrelenting assault that continued to undulate, to press, to pulse within her, amplifying the orgasm to absurdity.
Her bare feet, hypersensitive, were still tortured by the playful filaments, synchronized with the jolts that shook her entire being.
— Hhahahhhah—HHAAAHHHH—AAAAAAHNNH—!!!
She was no longer really laughing. Her bursts of laughter choked, transformed into gasps of pleasure, broken gasps. She no longer knew where she was. Her body too shaken, too sensitized, too overwhelmed by this storm of shivers, pulsations, scorching heat. And yet... The slime did not stop.
It prolonged the explosion, spread it to every corner of her body, making each wave stronger, more uncontrollable, more crushing. Her belly contracted, her thighs clenched and opened with each spasm, her breasts bounced with the convulsions. And as her mind completely capsized, a final jolt, a deeper push, a stronger discharge...
— AAAAHHHHNNNNGHHHHH—HHHAAAAAHHHH !!!
The orgasm annihilated her. Her head lolled to the side, her semi-closed eyelids, her parted lips letting out a final trembling moan, a last exhausted, broken, control-drained laughter. A long shiver ran down her spine, her legs trembled in a final convulsion, and then... Silence. An absolute void. An after-orgasm that never ended.
She was still trembling, her body still prisoner to the phantom jolts, her belly palpitating with the remnants of the infernal pulsations. The moist heat of the slime enveloped her almost entirely, a moving shell that molded her being to the slow and inexorable rhythm of its undulations. She had no more grip, no support. Her fingers, once clenched in the void, were now swallowed, her wrists sucked into a gluey softness that held them in suspension.
Her arms slid slowly along her body, trapped by the living matter that slowly brought them back against her sides. The slime imposed a new posture on her.
A Precise Adjustment As if sculpting her surrender.
The gelatinous filaments wrapped around her hips, gently tightening their grip before lifting her in a fluid motion.
She felt her pelvis pivot, her legs bend slightly, then straighten as a larger tentacle coiled around her ankles.
Her thighs, initially closed when she was moved, were gradually forced open once again.
Slowly.
Metronomically.
Veronica's muscles resisted for a fraction of a second, an instinctive reflex of modesty...
...before yielding completely, surrendering to the slime, offering herself to the creature shaping her to its will.
Her legs spread, adjusting millimeter by millimeter under the pressure of the appendages.
Until she had no choice but to expose every curve, every shiver, every nervous tremor that rippled across her damp skin.
And finally, the last adjustments.
The slime gently pressed her back against an invisible surface, a cocoon that held her suspended, her skin floating in the pulsating moisture.
Her shoulders arched slightly, forcing her chest to thrust forward.
Her breasts, crushed under the weight of her own body, were released from the gelatinous mass, emerging into the open air with an uncontrollable shiver.
Their heaviness was accentuated, offered, quivering with spasms from the residual pleasure.
Her belly trembled, still trapped in the grip, undulating with the waves of heat that still coursed through her body.
She was trapped.
Trapped in a living cocoon, a chamber of sensations where her pleasure and submission were the only anchors.
Her face was bathed in a feverish glow.
Her lips, still trembling, parted in a weak gasp, her semi-closed eyes drowned in an ocean of uncontrollable sensations.
And as the transformation of her posture was completed, the slime began to move again.
The two mutated tentacles, still embedded within her, resumed their pulsations.
But this time...
They were synchronized.
A perfect cadence.
A deep thrust, a calculated caress, then...
Their movements intertwined, adjusting to the primal rhythm of her body. Each jolt of pleasure intensified their grip, erasing any barrier between her body and the slime's will.
She no longer existed as a separate entity. She was an instrument. A perfect toy, adjusted to the millimeter to resonate in harmony with the monster possessing her.
Her mouth opened in a nervous laugh, a laugh on the brink of collapse, where every jolt was a sob of pleasure too intense, too unbearable.
— HhhahahhhhaAAhh nnhhAAAAHHH...
Her body was shaken by a shiver.
Her mind, already engulfed in the abyss of pleasure, no longer knew where to turn.
Too many simultaneous assaults. Too many pulsations.
Her chest heaved, taut, exposed to the moist air, where every invisible caress was a cruel reminder of what awaited her.
Her feet floated beneath her, still at the mercy of the playful appendages, where every tickle on the soles of her feet, every wet lick under her arch sent an uncontrollable shiver through her entire body.
But the worst...
The worst was what was happening inside the living cocoon.
The two tentacles filling her continued their slow and infernal dance, perfectly synchronized, calculated to bring her to a point of no return, with nothing she could do to stop it.
Then... She felt the change. First, a subtle shift.
The excrescence stimulating her deeply, already too large, too dense, too present, altered under her grip, releasing fluid.
Its texture changed, becoming more compact, more defined.
Then there was a pulsation, followed by another.
A slow circular movement that swirled inside, making her entire body jerk in a devastating spasm.
— Hhhhhhhnnnnnnn... !!
Her voice broke, unable to choose between a laugh and a scream.
Then more pulsations. Regular. Like waves. Like circles expanding within her, pressing, retreating, and returning even stronger.
The tentacle was no longer a simple appendage. It had become something else.
Smooth balls, small at first, then increasingly pronounced, slowly slid in, one by one, filling, stretching, exploring, imposing their own rhythm on her body, forcing her to follow their pace.
A pressure... Then a release. Another pressure...
And each time one of the mutating spheres passed, her body arched instinctively, obeying the tempo, unable to restrain the animalistic and uncontrollable reaction that seized her.
Her legs contracted, a burning moisture slowly trickling down her chest, offered to the inevitable.
The feather-tentacles playing with her breasts intensified at the same time, as if they knew.
— Hhhhaaaaahhh—hhahahAHHAAAHH
Vibrations, this time. Directly on her nipples.
A calculated friction, slow at first, then synchronized with the waves rising within her.
And below... The major tentacle, the one filling her entirely, tightened, adopting the same rhythm as the other, as if they were communicating.
Pressure above.
Pressure below.
Vibration on her breasts.
Stimulation on her feet.
A perfect cycle.
A infernal gear of which she was the captive prey.
She could no longer stop it. She was caught in her own collapse.
Her entire body tensed in an arc, trembling, struck by a wave she could no longer contain, rising from the depths of her being.
Her feet trembled in the air, her toes grasping at a nonexistent void, seeking support, a way to stabilize herself, but there was none.
Then... the moment when everything tipped.
The deep tentacle within her emitted a final wave, an expansion, a contraction, then a final pulsation stronger than all the others. And then... she exploded.
— HAAAAAAAAAHHHHNNNNNN !!!
A scream torn from her, a gasp cut short by an uncontrollable spasm, an explosion in waves, leaving her body drained, trembling, convulsing uncontrollably, her anus contracting and relaxing on its own.
Her hands clenched, her feet tensed, her back arched, her face bathed in tears and ecstasy, unable to know where she was, unable to know where she ended. And finally...
Silence. A heavy, warm silence, where only the sound of her trembling breath filled the space.
The slime did not release her yet... but for the first time... it calmed.
Its grip did not disappear but became softer, more tender, like a satisfied lover caressing his exhausted prey.
Her breath was ragged, her chest rising slowly, her belly still contracting with the remnants of pleasure.
Her half-closed eyes, her mind floating somewhere between dream and reality, her body still imbued with the waves coursing through it...
Her entire femininity had become a zone of continuous ecstasy, a perfectly tuned instrument, where every stimulation found its echo, where every contact led her further, lower... or perhaps higher.
A strangled cry escaped her throat.
A shattering, desperate mix of laughter and ecstasy intertwined. And in that final spasm, Veronica collapsed.
Her chest heaved one last time, her sex convulsed in surrender, her feet trembled in their final, futile struggle, and her anus continued to contract more forcefully, as if trying to keep the balls inside her...
