Teen wolf stink torture

         The floor beneath him is sticky and he can't tell if it's from a spilled soda or something else. He tries to get up but the room seems to spin and wobble as if the very floorboards are unsteady. His eyes wander around the room, taking in the towering shapes and gigantic proportions of everything around him. He sees a mountain, a colossal mound of something green and bulky, with a faint odor that makes his stomach churn.

Stiles approaches the mountain cautiously, his heart racing in his chest. As he gets closer, the smell becomes stronger, a pungent mix of sweat and musk that fills his nostrils and makes his eyes water. The mountain seems to be made of fabric, with two wide paths leading up to a peak covered in a dusting of something white and crusty.

He braces himself, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to touch the material. It's rough and sticky under his fingertips. The fabric clings to his hand and when he pulls away, it feels like he's leaving a piece of himself behind. The room around him feels eerily quiet, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall, which seems to echo in the vast space.

Suddenly, the room quakes with the thunderous sound of a door slamming. Stiles' heart jumps into his throat and he sprints towards the mountain of fabric, diving under it just as he hears the heavy footsteps approaching.

The mountain is surprisingly warm and the fabric is thick and suffocating. He's hiding in a cave of some kind, surrounded by the smell of male sweat and something else, something almost...familiar.

The footsteps draw closer and Stiles holds his breath, his heart thudding so loudly he's sure it will give him away. He peeks out from his hiding spot and sees a wall of whiteish fabric rising into the distance. It's not just any fabric, though—it's stretched and contorted in a way that seems almost alive, with darker patches that shimmer with a thick, viscous liquid. The sight makes his stomach churn, but his curiosity gets the better of him and he continues to observe.

The wall moves slightly, revealing a pair of colossal pillars, each one hairier than the last. They stretch upward, disappearing into the vastness of the room, and Stiles can't help but feel a sense of awe mixed with horror. These aren't just any pillars—they're like someone's legs, covered in a thick, curly pelt that seems to absorb the light around them. The smell of sweat and musk intensifies, and Stiles' eyes widen as he takes in the sheer size of the giant before him.

He cautiously looks further up, his gaze tracing the fabric of the T-shirt that seems to cover the entirety of his torso. It's so vast that the number '19' emblazoned on the chest seems like a tiny emblem on a distant skyscraper. The material clings to Theo's abs, showcasing each defined muscle and the deep valley of his stomach. The fabric stretches taut over his broad shoulders, and Stiles can see the veins bulging under his skin, a testament to the immense power that lies within.

The giant's head finally comes into view, framed by a halo of man musk