Your world shifts and blurs as Scott moves you again, the sudden motion throwing you off-balance and making you push against his giant palm to stay upright. By the time you realize that he plans to put you in his pants, it is too late to protest or wriggle free. If you make your voice loud enough for your enormous best friend to hear, you open yourself up to being found by others too. The only choice is to go with your skate rat friend's plans, whether you want to or not.
As one hand holds you easily, the other lifts up the waistbands of his torn jeans and the red-and-black striped boxers he favors (something you know because his jeans usually slip a little when he's standing). The heady smell of his masculine musk gushes over you, and it's quite an overwhelming scent for being only three inches tall. In the slight light from above, you can see a dim outline of your soon-to-be-companions, a rather sizeable cock that was a little less than three times your size (and you couldn't help noticing it was semi-hard), and beyond that a pair of thick balls with a decent amount of pubic hair on them. You try not to get drawn in by the now immense proportions of your friend's package, even as Scotty moves you closer and dumps you right next to the semi-hard dick you'd just been eyeing.
The waistbands close again, and you swear you can feel him lightly pat the fabric of his pants as if saying, "Have fun, little buddy."
Your situation is a little bizarre, because the idea of being three inches tall and trapped in your best friend's pants...
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