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We’re not just trapped — we’re double trapped. Locked into the stocks and caught in the sticky, sweet mess made for this scene. Bare feet dripping with thick marshmallow glue, shiny and stringy like it was designed to hold us in place. Every tease, every slow flex, every stretch of that goo clings and pulls like it wants to swallow everything whole. One angle, no mercy, no escape — just the messy, humiliating reality that we’re stuck watching the sticky play get thicker and more irresistible. The more the struggle builds, the clearer it gets: we’re double stuck, double desperate, and there’s no getting away from it.