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You had no way of knowing if your miniscule impact against his nose ring had been what disturbed the bull or something else had, but either way the result was the same. In an instant, before you could even really process what was happening, the minotaur had flicked his tongue out and up over his nose, effortlessly adhering you to the drool slicked surface as it slips back down between his lips and drags you with it, an unnoticed victim of an act so simple he hadn't even thought about it.
For your part you found yourself suddenly thrust into a dark new environment of shifting wet muscle and mountain sized teeth. The minotaur's mouth was without a doubt one of the worst places you could have ended up. Even outside the dangers of being crushed or swallowed there was thick, clingy saliva that dripped and pooled everywhere and the spongey, moving surface of his tongue was virtually impossible to stand up on. The air itself was oppressive, being as warm and humid to your diminutive form as any sauna while also managing to reek of the bull's breath, being that it was in fact the only air in here you had to breathe. Any attempt to shout up at him was fruitless when each in or exhalation from the barbarian were enough to drown out even your loudest attempts at communication.
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