Reach for the Rope Ladder

You slowly wrap a hand around the bottom rung of the rope ladder, maybe a meter overhead. You give it a cautious tug, but nothing happens. You grip the rung with both hands. It'll take some strength to hoist yourself high enough to get your legs on the ladder, but you're up to it.

The moment you get your full weight on the dangling ladder, as you're reaching up for the second rung, the floor beneath you drops open! You're now hanging above some kind of crazily painted chute. Twisting neon whirls cover the glossy walls. The chute curves gently out of view several meters below you.

You renew your efforts to climb the ladder when you notice small protrusions pressing out of the walls, as though the polished metal were thin elastic. The protrusions grow into finger-like appendages, pushing slowly into the tube all around you. You get a very bad feeling, straining to wrap your hand around the second rung, but the rungs are uncomfortably far apart, you realize.

The fingers grow into hands. The hands push out from the wall revealing arms. It's like you're stuck in a giant scientific glovebox!

You knew it was coming, but the tickle attack still sends a shock through your spine that nearly knocks you off the ladder: several of the hands thrust at you, their manically dancing digits skittering and poking at your helplessly exposed underarms! You scream with laughter, trying to twist free of the ticklish ****, but the hands are everywhere.

Beginning to tire from several reps of unsuccessful pullups, while the relentless hands tickle-**** your pits, neck, and lats, you realize it's only a matter of time before the attacking hands and the sheen of sweat rising on your body loosens your grip on the ladder. You make one last shuddering effort to lift yourself out of danger!