Dedicated to Brittney ... damn those really are nice tits.

Malcom

Brittney eased herself into the steaming water with a long sigh, the warmth seeping into her aching back. She stretched her legs out, her toes brushing the opposite end of the tub, and let her head fall back against the edge. The faint scent of lavender and chamomile wafted up from the bubbles that frothed around her, a soothing reprieve from the strain that plagued her body all day.

“God, I needed this,” she murmured, rolling her shoulders and wincing as a dull ache shot through them. The flickering glow of a scented candle on the bathroom counter cast soft, golden light across the tiles, and she closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the cocoon of warmth and solitude.

Reaching for the bar of soap resting on the tub’s edge, Brittney began to lather her skin, working the slick suds over her arms, shoulders, and chest. Her hands lingered on her breasts—her “tits,” as she preferred to call them—enjoying the soothing motion as she massaged the tension from the muscles beneath.

“Good as they look, they’re a pain in the ass sometimes,” she muttered with a small smirk, then gave one of her nipples a playful squeeze.

Satisfied, she rinsed off and leaned up towards her tablet, propped against the metal stand on the side of the tub. With a quick swipe, she unlocked the screen and pulled up her reading app. The latest short story from her friend Malcom popped up at the top of her library.

“Let’s see what you’ve got for me this time,” she said, settling deeper into the water. The title gleamed on the screen, ominous and intriguing, and Brittney felt a flicker of excitement ripple through her as she swiped to the first page of text and began reading. The words pulled her in immediately, Malcom’s dark prose weaving a tantalizing tension that made her shiver despite the heat of the bath.

As she continued, she felt her breath quicken. A faint tingle began in her lower abdomen, spreading downward in waves. It was subtle at first, but the sensation built with each passing paragraph, with the story and detailed descriptions stirring something deep and primal within her. A soft moan escaped her lips as she adjusted her position in the tub, her knees pulling up slightly as if her body was begging for more.

She moved her left hand down, gently brushing her fingers across her clit, which was already hard and begging for more attention. As she gently squeezed it and brushed the pads of her fingers back and forth across it, she continued to read the story on the screen. A young woman was trapped in the warm embrace of an ooze, and the warm bath water aided Brittney in imagining she was part of the story.

Reaching up to swipe to the next page, the fingers of her right hand brushed the screen. The faintest vibration traveled from the tablet into her hand, almost like a static charge. The tingle raced down her arm, spreading rapidly, and before she could fully register the strange sensation, her body stiffened.

She froze, her eyes widening in alarm. Her arms, her legs—nothing would move. Panic surged as she struggled internally, but her muscles refused to respond. Even her voice seemed trapped in her throat, her lips locked in place.

Brittney’s gaze darted to the tablet still propped before her, the screen glowing innocently with Malcom’s story. She tried to scream, but not even a whisper escaped.

Brittney’s mind raced as she lay paralyzed in the tub, her body unresponsive but her senses heightened. The faint hum seemed to emanate from the tablet, a subtle vibration she could feel radiating through the surface of the screen.

Her fingers twitched involuntarily—or perhaps it was her imagination—when she felt it. A faint, almost imperceptible movement on her hand. It began as a whisper of sensation, like a wisp of smoke curling around her fingertips. She couldn’t see it, but she felt it unmistakably: something crawling, slithering down from the tablet and onto her skin.

It crept over her knuckles, light as air, before trailing down the length of her fingers. The sensation was cold yet oddly electric, leaving a tingling path in its wake. As it moved, it seemed to pulse, almost alive, with a rhythmic energy she could feel deep in her bones. Brittney wanted to scream, to throw the tablet away, but her body refused to obey.

The thing slid over her hand, curling possessively around her wrist and slinking up her forearm. Every inch of contact sent tiny, pulsing shocks through her nerves, heightening her awareness of its movement. When it reached her elbow, it paused, as if savoring her helplessness. Brittney’s breath caught, her chest rising involuntarily in shallow, ragged gasps as though her body no longer belonged to her.

Then, slowly, deliberately, it began to explore her upper arm, its path unhurried and torturous. When it reached her shoulder, the thing’s cold, crawling presence spread outward, branching like tendrils over her collarbone and inching down toward her chest.

Her skin burned with a mix of terror and something darker, more primal, as it traced the curve of her breasts. It moved with a strange sensuality, circling each peak with an agonizing slowness. Brittney could feel every undulating movement, every deliberate caress, and despite herself, her nipples began to harden.

The thing lingered, teasing, as though it relished her vulnerability. Each touch was calculated, intimate, and unyielding. Brittney’s heart thundered in her chest, her mind screaming for it to stop, even as a traitorous part of her body responded to the invasive touch.

The sensations were maddening—each touch sent ripples of electricity through her body, her nipples so hard they felt as though they might burst as the tendrils brushed over them again and again. They tightened slightly, squeezing gently as if testing her sensitivity. The creature seemed intent on savoring her every reaction, and she was powerless to stop it.

Her gaze, fixed on the tablet, caught movement on the screen as new text appeared, displayed within the reading app, almost playful in its cruelty:

“Those really are nice tits.”

Brittney’s cheeks flushed crimson, a mix of mortification and shock overwhelming her as the words burned into her vision. She wanted desperately to turn her head, to look away, but her body remained paralyzed, her muscles refusing her every command.

Brittney’s breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, though her body refused to move beyond the faint rise and fall of her chest. The thing’s tendrils shifted again, moving to encircle each breast entirely, slow and deliberate in their exploration. Each squeeze seemed to ignite her nerves, setting her skin alight with a mix of sensations—electric, cold, and yet somehow unbearably warm.

“Jesus,” she thought. “These tits are going to get me killed.”

As her breasts were continuously squeezed and her nipples manipulated, other tendrils spiraled downward towards her stomach, their pressure light and teasing as they circled her navel. The tendrils pressed harder, their touch both invasive and intimate. They moved in rhythmic patterns, teasing and toying with her as though mocking her inability to resist. Brittney’s mind screamed in protest, yet her body betrayed her again, responding to the stimulation in ways that only deepened her shame.

The words on the screen changed once more, as if the creature was reading her thoughts:

“No need to be shy—I know you like this.”

The tendrils slid downward, their cold, slick surfaces gliding over her skin with an unrelenting precision that bordered on cruel. They circled her ribs in tight, deliberate spirals, the pressure shifting between light and firm as though testing every inch of her sensitivity. Brittney’s breath caught, each touch sparking a shiver that rippled through her paralyzed body. The contrast between their coldness and the lingering warmth of her bathwater made her nerves flare with heightened awareness, as if her very skin had been electrified.

The creature’s movements were maddeningly slow, each pass calculated, each touch teasing her beyond the limits of what she thought she could endure. One tendril paused at the curve beneath her ribcage, pressing firmly enough to make her gasp, though no sound escaped her lips. Another trailed over her side, brushing against the soft flesh just beneath her breast before retreating, as if savoring her every reaction.

When they reached her stomach, they paused, flattening against her skin. Brittney could feel the tendrils spreading out like fingers, their weight increasing slightly as they moved outward, tracing the subtle rise and fall of her abdomen with excruciating care. Their coolness seemed to sink into her, leaving trails of sensation that lingered long after they had moved on. One tendril curled inward, circling her navel in tight, rhythmic loops, the motion so deliberate it felt almost mocking.

Her muscles quivered involuntarily beneath their touch, a faint tremor that betrayed the tension coiled within her. Despite her terror, a dark, primal part of her mind couldn’t ignore the unnerving sensuality of the creature’s actions. It wasn’t just touching her—it was studying her, memorizing her every response, and savoring her inability to fight back.

The tendrils continued their descent, skimming the sensitive hollows of her hips. The lightest brush of their surfaces made her shiver uncontrollably, her body betraying her yet again. They moved with the same unhurried deliberation, curling possessively over the soft curves of her hips as if staking their claim. Brittney’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears as she felt the pressure grow.

Then, with a sudden and undeniable force, the tendrils pried her thighs apart. The movement was unyielding, their strength absolute, and despite the resistance of the water and her own will, Brittney’s body yielded to them. The cold air hit the newly exposed skin, sending a sharp jolt through her, but the tendrils showed no mercy. They pressed against her inner thighs, spreading themselves wider as though preparing for something even more invasive.

Her mind screamed in protest, but her body remained a prisoner to their will. The sensations were overwhelming—a torturous mix of fear, shame, and an unwanted heat that she couldn’t suppress. She felt completely powerless, trapped in the grip of a creature that seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

The screen flickered again, the next line chilling in its simplicity:

“Shall we continue?”

As it moved closer to her hips, Brittney’s breath came in shallow gasps, her mind awash in a chaotic swirl of fear, humiliation, and a dark, undeniable thrill. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t finished with her yet.

Brittney lay helpless as the thing continued its relentless exploration. It moved with maddening precision, tracing the contours of her body as though it were mapping her every curve. The faint vibration it carried coursed through her, resonating in her core and amplifying the sensations until they bordered on unbearable.