Elias clung to the coarse hairs of Torvald’s left armpit, the musky scent clawing at his lungs. The giant’s twitch had nearly unseated him, and now doubt gnawed at his mind. The left pit, though rank, felt almost familiar—bearable. But the right armpit, across that vast expanse of heaving chest, promised a worse trial. He’d heard tales of its sharper stench, a wetter, more oppressive musk that could choke a man’s spirit. Still, something urged him onward—a flicker of instinct, or perhaps desperation.
He exhaled, steeling himself, and began to climb out of the left pit. His hands gripped the wiry strands, feet slipping slightly on sweat-slicked skin as he hauled himself up. The chest loomed ahead, a rolling landscape of muscle and sparse hair, rising and falling with Torvald’s slow breaths. Elias moved carefully, crouching low to keep his balance. Each step felt like a betrayal of safety, the warmth of the giant’s body radiating through his thin boots. The journey seemed endless, the distant right armpit a shadowed hollow taunting him from across the expanse.
As he neared it, the air thickened. The right pit’s odor hit him first—a sour, pungent wave, heavier than the left, laced with a damp bitterness that stung his eyes. He gagged, pressing a sleeve to his face, but it did little to dull the assault. The pit itself glistened faintly, its dark tangle of hair matted with moisture. Elias hesitated, his resolve fraying. The fumes curled into his thoughts, dizzying, overwhelming, like a weight pressing him down.
He forced himself to descend, grasping the slick hairs as he lowered into the humid crevice. The musk enveloped him, inescapable, coating his skin, his clothes. His breaths came shallow, each one a battle against the stench. He pictured himself—small, trembling, a speck against this monstrous expanse—fighting to hold his nerve.
Then, a tremor. Torvald stirred again. The giant’s right arm shifted, the massive limb grinding toward his side. Elias’s heart lurched as the pit began to close, the walls of flesh tightening around him. He scrambled, clawing at the hairs, but the slickness betrayed his grip. The arm pressed closer, trapping him in the suffocating dark, the musk now a living force, threatening to swallow him whole.
The fuems become too much for himand a suffocate. The end.
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