Dylan’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, the oppressive heat of Tim’s pulsating hole inches from his face. The musky air was thick, clinging to his skin like a second layer, and the faint rhythmic contractions of the giant’s muscle were both mesmerizing and terrifying. “Alright, Dylan,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the humid confines of Tim’s shorts. “You wanted adventure. You got it. Now just… stay calm and figure out a way outta here.”
Before he could formulate a plan, a subtle tremor rippled through the flesh around him. Dylan froze, his senses on high alert. “What now, Tim?” he hissed, eyeing the puckered hole warily. The muscle twitched, and then, without warning, a silent fart slipped out—a hot, insidious wave of gas that washed over Dylan like a suffocating blanket. The stench was potent, a mix of earthy musk and something sharper, more acrid than the earlier blast. It seeped into his lungs, making his eyes water and his head spin.
“Goddamn, Tim!” Dylan coughed, waving a tiny hand in front of his face as if that could dispel the invisible cloud. “Silent but deadly, huh? You’re killing me here!” The heat intensified, the air growing heavier and more oppressive as the fart lingered, trapped in the tight space of Tim’s shorts. Dylan’s skin prickled with sweat, his clothes now clinging to him, damp and sticky. The pulsating hole seemed to mock him, its faint contractions almost rhythmic, as if Tim’s body was utterly oblivious to the tiny explorer’s plight.
Dylan pressed himself against the damp fabric of Tim’s underwear, trying to find a pocket of fresher air, but the musky heat was inescapable. “Okay, okay,” he panted, his reckless grin flickering but not fading. “This is just… part of the experience, right? Gotta roll with it.” His curiosity, though battered, still burned. He glanced at the hole again, its warm presence both daunting and oddly fascinating. “You’re one hell of a challenge, big guy,” he murmured, half in awe.
Determined not to let Tim’s gas defeat him, Dylan crawled forward, his hands sinking into the hairy, sweaty expanse of Tim’s ass. The terrain was slicker now, the silent fart adding a layer of humidity that made every movement a struggle. He aimed for the waistband, hoping to climb back out and regroup. “Just gotta get to the edge,” he grunted, hauling himself along. “Then I’m coming back for you, Tim. This ain’t over.”
But as he moved, another faint tremor vibrated through Tim’s body. Dylan paused, his heart sinking. “Oh, come on, not again—” Another silent fart hissed out, this one hotter and more concentrated, enveloping him in a fresh wave of stench. Dylan gagged, his tiny form slumping against the underwear. “Tim, you’re a goddamn chemical weapon!” he wheezed, but his grin held a trace of stubborn defiance. Trapped in the sweltering, musky heat, Dylan knew he was in deep—but his curiosity still whispered that this was the adventure of a lifetime.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author