Tommy, the box and his vial of growth formula— gone! Bryan felt dizzy, and not simply from vertigo as he clung with white knuckles to the weave on the front of Greg's massive blue sweater. He knew that without help he would be lost, no more than a teeny speck in a world of impossible giants.
The tiny man realized how imperative it was now to contact Greg. The young intern could still save him.
Before Bryan could do much of anything, Greg began moving again.
He took only a few steps and settled down in a seat behind Bryan's own desk. Once again, Bryan made the mistake of glancing downward.
Greeting the tiny's man eyes was a huge mug of black coffee sitting on the desk a few inches from the computer's mouse. As Bryan watched, Greg stretched out a colossal hand and moved the mouse to re-activate the computer screen.
Bryan forced his gaze away from the desktop. He Looking up again from his viewpoint between Greg's pecs. He admired the curve of the intern's chin, and marveled that he was hardly bigger than the coarse stubble covering Greg's face.
Bryan's attention veered to the v-line of the sweater, which was open to reveal a hint of a lightly haired chest. Those chest hairs, Bryan realized, looked the size of cords. If he could climb onto the giant's chest, maybe tug on one of the hairs, would that stir the titanic intern into noticing his presence?
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