“Whoa,” Dylan muttered, his voice a mix of awe and nerves. “This place is a freaking jungle.” His tiny frame trembled with adrenaline as he navigated the terrain, the danger of this giant world sinking in. He knew he shouldn’t linger, but the thrill was intoxicating.
His eyes caught a desk in the corner, its surface cluttered with pens, papers, and a half-empty protein shake bottle. A rickety chair sat tucked beneath it, its seat worn and slightly tilted. “Gotta get a better view,” Dylan said, determination overriding caution. He darted toward the chair, scaling its leg with surprising agility, his hands gripping the rough wood as he climbed. Each step felt like conquering a mountain. By the time he hauled himself onto the seat, his chest heaved with exertion.
“Made it,” he panted, wiping sweat from his brow. The chair’s cushion was soft but carried a faint, musky warmth—like it had been recently occupied. Dylan’s pulse quickened, the intimacy of the space sinking in.
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed from outside the room—the front door slamming shut in the living room. Dylan froze, his heart leaping into his throat. “Oh crap, someone’s home,” he whispered, eyes darting toward Theo’s bedroom door. Before he could move, the door swung open with a creak.
Theo strode in, his massive frame filling the doorway. Unaware of Dylan’s presence, he shut the door behind him with a casual kick, his heavy footsteps shaking the floor. Dylan crouched low on the chair, his tiny body dwarfed by the giant’s shadow. Theo, wearing a tight tank top and gym shorts, headed straight for the desk. Without a glance, he gripped the chair and yanked it out, the motion jostling Dylan violently.
Dylan stifled a yelp as Theo paused, peeling off his tank top and tossing it onto the laundry pile. His broad chest glistened with sweat, and he tugged down his gym shorts, leaving him in just a pair of snug boxer briefs. Dylan’s breath hitched, the air thick with Theo’s scent—earthy, potent, and dizzying.
Theo groaned, rubbing his stomach. “Ugh, my gut’s killing me,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. He lowered himself onto the chair, his weight descending like a slow-motion avalanche. Dylan scrambled to dodge, but it was too late—Theo’s massive form engulfed the seat, pinning Dylan beneath him. The heat of Theo’s body was overwhelming, the fabric of his briefs pressing Dylan into the cushion. By some miracle, Dylan found himself wedged in the tight space between Theo’s cheeks, the pressure intimate and suffocating.
Theo shifted to the left, his movement grinding Dylan deeper into the crevice. A low, rumbling pffft erupted as Theo farted, the hot, musky blast washing over Dylan. The smell was intense—raw, tangy, and strangely primal. Dylan’s senses reeled, his body trembling with a mix of fear and forbidden excitement.
“Gotta lay off the protein,” Theo mumbled, chuckling to himself. He shifted again, unleashing a series of smaller farts, each one hitting Dylan like a warm, pungent wave. The vibrations rippled through Theo’s body, and Dylan, trapped in the epicenter, felt every pulse, every scent, every overwhelming moment.
Theo sighed, leaning forward slightly. “Man, I gotta get more comfortable in this chair,” he said, his voice tinged with laziness. Dylan’s eyes widened as he saw Theo’s hand hook into the waistband of his briefs. With a casual tug, Theo slid them down, the fabric peeling away to reveal the bare, warm skin of his backside. Theo settled back down, his full weight returning, and Dylan found himself pressed impossibly close—right against the sensitive, intimate heat of Theo’s hole.
The air was thick, the moment charged with raw intensity. Dylan’s heart pounded, his tiny form enveloped in Theo’s warmth, the musky closeness both terrifying and electrifying. Theo shifted slightly, oblivious to the tiny figure beneath him, and Dylan felt the world shrink to this singular, overwhelming point of contact.
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