This choice: things get even more drastically, dangerous • Go Back...Chapter #4things get even more drastically, dangerous by: Tinymannn   Bullet The couch groaned as James shifted again, his bare, hairy ass settling even deeper, the crushing weight driving Dylan further into the suffocating crevice near the giant’s pulsating hole. The heat was unbearable, the coarse hairs scraping Dylan’s skin raw, and the musky, rancid air choked his every breath. Suddenly, James’s gut let out a louder, more menacing gurgle, the vibration rippling through Dylan’s tiny frame like an earthquake. “Oh, fuck, no!” Dylan gasped, his voice hoarse and panicked, barely audible in the stifling prison of flesh and cushion. “Not again, you gotta be shitting me!”
Above, James grunted, his voice a low rumble over the faint buzz of his headphones. “Ugh, what the hell’s wrong with my stomach today?” he muttered, oblivious to the tiny figure trapped beneath him. He leaned forward slightly, the shift momentarily easing the pressure—only to slam back down with a heavy thud, his cheeks spreading wider. Dylan’s world constricted further, his face now pressed directly against the throbbing, puckered rim of James’s hole. The slick, pulsating skin was scalding, the scent overwhelming—a raw, earthy mix of sweat and something darker, more primal. Dylan’s heart pounded, his body trembling with a mix of terror and the surreal, explicit intimacy of the moment.
“Get me outta here!” Dylan screamed, his voice muffled against the slick flesh, his tiny fists pounding uselessly. The pulsating rim twitched with James’s every movement, each subtle flex a reminder of the giant’s oblivious power. Dylan’s ribs ached, his lungs burning as he fought to breathe through the suffocating heat and stench. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, you giant asshole!” he choked out, his words lost in the chaos, his body pinned so close he could feel the faint spasms of James’s muscles.
James, still clueless, scratched at his thigh, his fingers brushing dangerously close to Dylan’s trapped form. “Man, I need to lay off those burritos,” he chuckled, his voice casual as he adjusted his position. The movement ground Dylan deeper, the slick rim now smearing against his face, coating him in a thin layer of sweat and musk. Then, without warning, another explosive fart ripped through, the force like a hurricane, blasting Dylan with a scorching, fetid wave. The smell was apocalyptic—sulfur, sweat, and decay—clinging to his skin, searing his lungs. “Fuck!” Dylan gagged, his eyes streaming, his body shuddering as the pulsating hole throbbed even closer, threatening to engulf him entirely.
“Something’s gotta give!” Dylan rasped, his voice breaking, desperation clawing at him. He thrashed, his tiny limbs slipping against the slick, hairy skin, but every movement only wedged him tighter against the twitching rim. James’s gut rumbled again, louder this time, and Dylan’s blood ran cold. “No, no, don’t you dare—!” he pleaded, but James just sighed, oblivious, muttering, “Gonna need a bathroom soon if this keeps up.” The giant’s body tensed, the hole pulsating ominously, and Dylan braced for another catastrophic blast, his tiny form utterly at the mercy of the giant’s relentless, unaware dominance.
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