She allowed herself a moment of distraction. She leaned into the buzzing, to give herself at least that, when she noticed something… peculiar just below her tail. At her last long, slow exhale, she felt the padding swell, like warm fluid had just been pumped down the back of it. Then it happened again, right after she… Oh, that’s interesting. She had to strain to look over her shoulder, finding where the tank - this reverse diving getup - was piping the fluid into her mask, and then back down to the diaper. Another time… she shivered, feeling the squish soften against her nethers, and the latex wrapping it tighten slightly. Compression? Pocket dimension? Chemical storage? Something told her this thing was going to get a lot bigger than the tank looked like it could hold. Ahead of her, against the wall - across a deeper pool of collected glue on the floor - was a little station on the wall, labelled “tank change”. The HUD in her mask - only now becoming clear to her bleary eyes - included a half-full tank meter. As she looked around the chamber - a vertical maze of steps, walls, bridges, and other rubber-padded problems for her to traverse, dotted with single use tank change stations, it dawned on her that this might be a bigger issue than she thought. Hm. Better get moving.
More concerning on the HUD, however, was the word ‘permastuck’ tucked in the corner… was that a threat? A designation? Better not wait to find out…
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Love glue! Really struggle drawing it though
Shh, leave your realism at the door. There is no death here, only pleasure.
The diaphragm of air-breathing creatures can only the increased effort of moving liquids for less than an hour though, so she’s probably dead even if she could make it from tank to tank in time.