He really could not take it any longer.
Fear died out as soon as despair took over.
They were twice his size, white skin covered with black
secreted goo that distorted their true shape to small hills
of blackness. And they were surrounding him.
He was crying with horrified rage, not trying to scare them
off, but responding to an insane instinct that didn't
cooperate with his thinking mind any more.
He kicked, punched, and roared. His arms and legs bounced
back from their lumpy body parts that didn't seem to be
arranged in any familiar formation, something like a
tentacle here, and a beak there, concentrations of hair-like
strings stuck to his hands and legs when he hit them, making
it harder to pull back.
At the end, he collapsed, hardly breathing, as what was left
of his mind waited for them to move in and make the final
bite or whatever.
They didn't move, as far as he could notice.
Had he noticed, it would have been his last registered
thought.