She doesn't even know what "this" is yet

Fear tightened its grip on me as I felt an unsettling shift within the confines of the Care Bear uniform. The air turned stifling, and a strange sensation, like the subtle prickling of unseen fingers, began to creep along my skin. I shuddered, attempting to shake off the discomfort, but the tickling persisted and intensified, taking on an almost predatory quality.

"Dylan, what's happening? This isn't funny anymore! Make it stop!"

I struggled against the relentless tickling, my attempts to free myself becoming increasingly futile. The once playful punishment had morphed into something far more sinister, and panic set in as the inexplicable torment continued.

Dylan sat on the bed, an eerie calmness in his gaze as he watched my futile struggles. "Don't fret dear. This is just something I picked up on the road. Think of it as couple's counseling."

"Dylan! I can't take it! Get me out of this thing!"

My screams echoed in the room, but there was no escape from the supernatural grip of the uniform. The more I thrashed and screamed, the more the tickling intensified, transforming into an unbearable torment.

"To love, cherish, and to obey, till **** us do part," Dylan whispered. His indifference fueled my desperation. I clawed at the costume, my attempts to tear it off proving futile against its unnatural resilience. The room seemed to close in as I writhed in a helpless struggle against the unseen **** within the costume.

Fear mingled with frustration, and as I gasped for breath between **** screams. Help wasn't coming. The room echoed with my pleas for release, but Dylan remained seated on the bed, a spectator to the fruits of his handiwork.