Then, James muttered to himself, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Dylan’s tiny perch. “I should get more comfortable.”
Dylan’s breath hitched. Before he could process the words, James’s hands moved to the hem of his boxers. With a casual tug, he yanked them down, the fabric sliding past his hips and pooling around his ankles. Dylan’s world tilted into chaos. From his minuscule vantage point, he was suddenly face-to-face with the overwhelming sight of James’s bare anatomy—a massive, hairy ass, heavy balls swaying slightly, and the thick, dangling cock inches from Dylan’s face. The musky scent hit him like a wave, raw and overpowering, mingling with the faint saltiness of sweat. Dylan’s mind blanked, his body frozen in a mix of horror and surreal fascination as the giant’s most intimate parts filled his entire field of vision.
James, still lost in his music, kicked the boxers off his legs with a clumsy shuffle, oblivious to the tiny figure clinging to the couch below. He resumed his descent, his massive ass lowering with terrifying speed. Dylan snapped out of his stupor too late—there was no time to jump, no time to scream. The full weight of James’s bare, hairy backside crashed onto the couch, pinning Dylan beneath its suffocating bulk. The impact was like a mountain collapsing, the coarse hairs prickling against Dylan’s tiny form as he was pressed deep into the cushion.
Dylan’s world became a claustrophobic nightmare. He was trapped, inches from James’s pulsating, puckered hole, the heat and pressure overwhelming. The musky, earthy scent was inescapable, filling his lungs with every panicked breath. His tiny body squirmed, but the weight was unrelenting, each movement grinding him deeper into the couch. Above, James shifted, settling in with a contented sigh, the motion adding even more crushing pressure. Dylan’s ribs ached, his face pressed dangerously close to the giant’s most intimate area, the pulsating warmth radiating against his skin.
Then, a low rumble echoed from James’s gut, a deep, ominous gurgle that Dylan felt more than heard. His heart sank. No, no, no— Before he could brace himself, a hot, explosive fart erupted, the force vibrating through Dylan’s tiny frame. The smell was rancid, a choking mix of sulfur and stale chips, enveloping him in a suffocating cloud. Another followed, then another, each one a thunderous assault on his senses, the heat and moisture clinging to his skin. Dylan gagged, his eyes watering, but there was no escape—every blast pinned him further, the pulsating hole mere inches from his face throbbing with each release.
James, still oblivious, chuckled softly to himself, his voice muffled by the headphones but audible enough for Dylan to catch. “Oh, man, I must’ve had a really upset stomach.” He shifted again, sinking deeper into the couch, his hairy cheeks spreading slightly and adding unbearable pressure on Dylan’s trapped form. The coarse hairs scratched against Dylan’s skin, the heat intensifying, and the musky scent grew even more potent, a relentless assault on his senses.
Dylan’s mind reeled, his body screaming for relief, but there was no end in sight. James’s weight was immovable, his bare ass a suffocating prison. Another rumble from James’s gut signaled more to come, and Dylan could only brace himself, trapped in the intimate, explicit horror of the giant’s oblivious dominance. He didn’t know how long he could endure, or if he’d ever escape the crushing, pulsating nightmare pressing down on him.
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