There’s a Pink Thing in your bathtub!

Rain taps softly against the windows as you fumble with your keys, shoulders aching from a day that seemed determined to wring every last drop of energy out of you. The door finally clicks open. Home. Quiet. Safe.

Or... not.

There’s a faint, wet sound somewhere deeper in the apartment. Not loud—just enough to make you pause mid-step. A slow, sticky schlorp... schlorp...

You frown. “...Hello?”

No answer.

You push the door closed behind you and follow the sound down the hallway. The light in the bathroom is already on, casting a soft glow across the tiles. The door is ajar.

The sound is coming from inside.

Carefully, you nudge the door open.

The first thing you notice is the color.

Pink.

A glossy, bubblegum-pink mass fills the bathtub, piled high like a nest made of gelatin. It glistens under the light, semi-transparent in places, with faint ripples moving through it like something breathing. Trails of the stuff have begun to creep over the edge of the tub, sliding down the porcelain and stretching across the floor in slow, deliberate tendrils.

One of them reaches just past the bathmat.

Another curls around the base of the sink.

You stand frozen in the doorway.

The mass shifts.

A portion of it rises, pulling upward as though gravity is more of a suggestion than a rule. Limbs—sort of—form from the slime, followed by the vague outline of a torso. Then a cute heart shaped face presses outward from the surface, features smoothing into place: wide eyes, a small mouth, and an expression of quiet curiosity.

She blinks at you.

The creeping tendrils pause.

“...Oh,” she says softly with a giggle, her voice like liquid sliding over glass. “You’re home.”

A beat.

She glances down at the bathroom floor, where the pink slime has begun to claim more territory than a bathtub should reasonably allow.

“Sorry about the mess, I was just... settling in.”

Morning comes slowly.

Not with an alarm, not with sunlight—but with a strange, heavy warmth.

And pressure.

Your eyes crack open, bleary, unfocused... and the first thing you register is that you can’t move.

Your arms are stretched above your head. Your legs—spread, held firmly in place. There’s something wrapped around your wrists, your ankles... soft, yielding, yet unbreakably secure.

Pink.

Glossy, translucent tendrils of slime bind you to the bed, pulsing faintly as if alive—because they are.

Because she is.

A slow, deliberate shift draws your attention downward.

A creature of bubblegum pink slime, in the shape of a plump curvaceous girl sits on the foot of your bed.

Her translucent body jiggles slightly like jello, her form defined but still fluid at the edges, like she could melt and reform at a thought. She moves with an unhurried confidence, crawling up your body as the tendrils tighten just slightly—just enough to give you the impression that struggling isn’t an option.

Her “hands” press into your chest, dimpling slightly before reshaping, her weight warm but oddly light.

She tilts her head, watching you with bright, curious eyes.

“Oh good,” she murmurs, a small smile forming as she settles, comfortably perched over you. “You’re awake.”

One of the tendrils shifts, sliding a fraction tighter around your wrist as if reacting to your attention. Another idly traces along your arm, almost absentmindedly.

Her gaze lingers on your face, studying your reaction like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“I wanted to get to know you better,” she continues, voice soft, almost thoughtful. “You kept moving around in your sleep though... so I improvised.”

A pause.

Then, with a faint, playful glint:

“...Do you like it?”

[Create your own Scenario]