Could you develop the following text further in order to improve it? Also, add more details and dialogues to it:
In the middle of Bulma's peaceful sleep, a sudden itch in her left armpit interrupted her dreams. Instinctively, she raised her right hand to scratch the uncomfortable spot, not noticing the small passenger she inadvertently carried with her – her husband, Vegeta, now the size of a pint.
When Bulma's fingers began to scratch at the irritated area of her armpit, Vegeta found himself trapped in a world of hot, fetid sweat. The sticky, foul-smelling substance trapped him, enveloping him in a nauseating stench. It was as if he had been plunged into a swamp of damp and dirt, his miniature form struggling to breathe amid the unbearable odor.
But the worst was yet to come. After relieving the itch, Bulma lowered her left arm, completely unaware of the little Saiyan's presence. In her unconscious state, she unconsciously crushed Vegeta against her sweaty and repulsive armpit.
Vegeta's world suddenly turned into a new nightmare of suffocation, sweat, and overwhelming discomfort as Bulma's arm pressed him against his skin. The sweat-soaked flesh offered no relief, and the foul smell only grew stronger, permeating every inch of his senses.
Bulma's armpit was an endless, damp plain from Vegeta's tiny perspective. His skin was a mixture of shiny moisture and a pale, reddish hue. Trapped inside her, he felt the heat and wetness of her armpit envelop him, as if he were trapped in a steamy jungle. His sweat-covered skin seemed to stretch forever, making his escape impossible.
The stench inside the armpit was unbearable. It was a suffocating mix of sweat, old alcohol, the cloying aroma of Bulma's perfume, and the slightly acidic tone of her body odor. The different aromas mixed together, creating a nauseating cocktail that penetrated each of Vegeta's senses. He couldn't escape the disgusting smell that clung to him, making him choke and struggle to breathe.
As Vegeta struggled to avoid being crushed into Bulma's armpit, he couldn't help but be disgusted by her hot, sticky, sweaty environment. His sweat-soaked skin made his body damp and uncomfortable. The heat radiating from Bulma's body increased his anguish, making him feel as if he were trapped in an unbearable sauna.
Vegeta's resolve began to crack as his strength drained away. The suffocating heat, the overwhelming stench, and the constant pressure from Bulma's armpit began to sap his courage. He found himself trapped, unable to escape the sticky, oppressive embrace of that unbearable place.
Desperation gripped Vegeta, and his tiny vocal chords worked frantically as he tried to scream for help, begging his wife for mercy.
"Please, Bulma! Get me out of here! This is unbearable!", he shouted, his voice weak and shaking with agony.
But his words were no more than insignificant whispers in the vast wilderness of his situation. Bulma, oblivious to her husband's suffering, remained immersed in a deep sleep.
Vegeta, his voice increasingly shaky, tried once more: "Bulma, you need to listen to me! It's so hot and stuffy in here, I can't take it anymore!"
But his pleas fell on deaf ears, and his wife showed no sign of waking up.
Vegeta understood that no one would come to his aid, that there was no one capable of hearing his muffled screams, nor anyone who cared about his torment. Feeling completely powerless, he accepted his cruel fate.
"This can't be the end of me...", he muttered to himself, with tears of frustration in his eyes. "I can't end up like this."
His eyes flashed with despair and anger, as his voice slowly died away in the damp, suffocating muffle of that armpit.
And so, the prince of the Saiyans had to face the terrible reality of his night prison, with no way out in sight, trapped in the most miserable of hells, where his wife slept in complete peace and his plea remained unanswered.
As Bulma continued to slumber, unaware of her husband's plight, the night unfolded with a series of unintentional movements. Periodically, she would shift in her sleep, unconsciously pulling her left arm closer to her body, making matters even more unbearable for Vegeta.
The ceaseless friction between Bulma's arm and her torso created a relentless pressure, grinding Vegeta further into the clammy, sweaty folds of her armpit. The heat and moisture intensified as he was subjected to the continuous, suffocating embrace of her perspiration.
For Vegeta, it felt like being caught in a vice of sebaceous skin and sweltering humidity. The revolting cocktail of scents within the armpit, a mixture of sweat, old alcohol, the overpowering fragrance of Bulma's perfume, and the faint tinge of her body odor, seeped into every crevice of his senses, making him gag. With every gasping breath, he inhaled the noxious fumes, which further weakened his spirit.
The ongoing friction between Bulma's arm and her chest created a disorienting environment for Vegeta. His surroundings pulsed with relentless pressure, which seemed to grow with each passing moment. Vegeta's voice was lost in the oppressive expanse of her armpit, his pleas for help smothered by the unyielding grip of his wife's flesh.
The incessant grind of her arm intensified the torment for Vegeta, and his cries became feeble and pitiful.
"Bulma, please, you have to listen to me!" he wheezed, his voice barely audible in the stifling chamber. "It's getting hotter and more unbearable, and I can't take it much longer!"
The scorching, humid hell of Bulma's armpit showed no mercy. Despite his unyielding determination, Vegeta could feel his spirit breaking under the relentless onslaught. He was trapped in a nightmarish labyrinth, a prisoner of sweat, heat, and unbearable discomfort, unable to escape the relentless torment.
The night pressed on, with Bulma's movements causing her arm to press even harder against her body, which, in turn, crushed Vegeta more intensely into the sebaceous skin of her armpit. With each passing moment, his world became smaller and more agonizing.
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