Dylan hesitated, his fingers tightening around the coarse hair on James’s knee. The musky scent from above was stronger now, a warm, heavy presence that both repelled and intrigued him. His heart thumped, but the pull of curiosity was too strong to ignore. I’ve come this far, he thought, steeling himself. Let’s see what’s up there.
Muttering under his breath, Dylan began to climb again. “Okay, just… don’t look down. Don’t fall. You got this.” His tiny hands grasped the thick hairs along James’s inner thigh, each one a lifeline as he pulled himself higher. The skin here was softer, warmer, the air thick with that musky odor. The curve of the inner thigh enveloped him, a deep valley where the massive black fabric of James’s underwear loomed like a dark cliff face, taut against his body. Dylan’s eyes widened as he glanced up, taking in the sheer scale of it all. James’s form was colossal—a chubby belly, not too round but soft, rose above, crowned by a faint trail of hair that started at the waistband and climbed upward, stopping short of the chest.
“Man, this guy’s a mountain,” Dylan whispered, his voice barely audible. “What am I even doing?” He shook his head but kept moving, driven by a mix of fear and fascination. The fabric of the underwear was close now, its weave like a coarse tapestry to his tiny hands. He avoided it, sticking to the skin, where the warmth radiated intensely. The scent was almost overwhelming, but he pressed on, muttering, “Just keep going, Dylan. Don’t think about it. Just climb.”
He followed the trail of hair upward, using it like a guide rope. The belly was a vast, soft slope, its gentle rise and fall with James’s breathing making the climb precarious. Dylan’s arms ached, but he pushed forward, his tiny feet finding purchase on the skin’s faint ridges. “This is insane,” he panted.
Halfway up the belly, he paused, catching his breath. The trail of hair thinned here, just below the belly button, and Dylan glanced around. To his left and right, James’s torso stretched like a landscape, the skin smooth but for the occasional freckle or faint scar. Above, the chest loomed, the pecs rising like broad hills, their edges defined but softened by a layer of flesh. Dylan’s gaze flicked back to the belly button—a dark, cavernous indent just out of reach. Too risky, he thought. I’ll stick to the trail.
He resumed his climb, aiming for the middle of the chest, where the pecs met the sternum. The skin grew firmer here, the pulse beneath it stronger. Dylan clung to a sparse hair, his body trembling with exertion. “Almost there,” he muttered. “Just don’t move, big guy. Stay oblivious.” James, still unaware, shifted slightly, and Dylan froze, his heart leaping as the massive body tilted. “Whoa, whoa, easy!” he hissed, flattening himself against the skin. The movement settled, and he let out a shaky breath. “Okay, note to self: don’t jinx it.”
Reaching the center of James’s chest, Dylan collapsed onto the firm surface between the pecs, gasping. The heartbeat beneath was a steady drum, vibrating through him. He lay there, staring up at the underside of James’s chin, a distant peak framed by the collarbone. “I made it,” he whispered, half-laughing. “I’m on a freaking giant’s chest. Now what?”
The warmth of James’s skin, the rhythm of his breathing, and the faint musk still lingering in the air surrounded Dylan. He felt exposed, vulnerable, but also strangely alive. “Okay, genius,” he muttered to himself, “you’re here. What’s the plan? Spy? Hide? Hope he doesn’t scratch?” For now, he stayed put, catching his breath and weighing his next move, all while James remained blissfully unaware of the tiny adventurer on his chest.
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