With no desire to be anywhere near ground level while a vacuum cleaner is active, you scramble away while the cleaner is still busy picking up pieces of shattered glass. Luckily, Becca wasn't too careful when exiting this side of the bed, and the sheet touches the carpet.
Still wincing from the injuries you sustained at the hands, mouth and dick of the three giants, you are able to pull yourself higher, to the soundtrack of the giant's stomping feet and 'tutting' mouth. At the summit, you roll downward to the mattress, wondering where you can hide to avoid being spotted.
Thinking yourself safe, you only demonstrate your ignorance of the order in which a hotel room is cleaned. Firstly, the windows are opened to let in fresh air, as you can see, standing to watch the immense, billowing form of the light curtains, the sun's glare barely dimmed. Then, as the giant stomps between you and them, immense silhouette backlit to anonymity, the bedclothes are removed.
You try to run as immense hands grasp the bedsheets, but there is nowhere to run to. As with the napkin last night, you are powerless to avoid being balled up by the greater being, though mercifully not tightly enough to hurt you. There's still enough room to breathe, although you take in the stale scent of last night's lovemaking, reeking through the material.
Choking and fighting, you can feel the great mass around you lifted, carried, and dumped. Presumably into a massive laundry cart. You really don't want to end up in the washer, so you desperately strive to climb, to get higher, to get out -
Your ribs protest, your arms complain and your lungs rebel. Agony is your opponent, yet you will defeat it. Each handhold is a conquest, even as your fingers grip a crease soaked with the secretions of the threesome. More movement rocks the world; possibly the cart is being rolled along? Is it going to the next room for another colelction, or is this the end of the cycle?
Onward, upward, your struggle goes beyond survival. Now it's about desire. You want to live, but you also want to see more of this world, even if you'll never see Sarah again. It's only been a week, you can't let this be the end!
Triumphantly, a fist punches up into air, and your three-quarter inch tall form pops free, at the very limits of endurance. Had it been even an inch more, you'd have expired, you're sure. Blinking in the lights of the hotel corridor, you scream as another giant employee reaches for the bundle entrapping you, hands lifting a great mass with trivial ease. Swivelling your head, you see a great, gaping metal aperture, the entrance to a dark pit descending to the depths. The wad of bedsheets is forced through by the giant, prompting you to duck to avoid decapitation. Then the fall begins, air rushing past you as your prison falls down several storeys.
The impact is soft, naturally, but still you scramble away, hoping not to be hit by the next bundle to be pushed down. Through the darkness, a great light, and another giant ready to collect the dirty sheets. They're in no rush, and looking about you can see that the room is at ground level, the back of a humungous truck visible past them, into which multiple uniformed giants are packing bundles just like yours. Seems that the hotel contracts an outside firm to actually do the washing for them.
Casting your eyes around, you see a hotel employee - fairly important, judging by the smart suit he's wearing, perhaps a manager or similar - walking around, nodding appreciatively. He'll pass by your position soon, and it might be possible to jump across to him...
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