The darkness was absolute, a suffocating void that pressed against my tiny body. Somehow, I wasn’t dead. The crushing weight of Nate’s ass had spared me, my frame wedged into a crevice of the chair’s cushion, a pocket of air barely sustaining me. But survival wasn’t salvation. The heat was unbearable, a humid, oppressive fog that clung to my skin, thick with the stench of sweat and faint traces of laundry detergent. My raw hands throbbed, my ribs ached with every shallow breath, and the coarse fabric beneath me scratched like sandpaper.
Nate shifted, and the world tilted. The cushion compressed further, forcing a gasp from my lungs as the pressure tightened around me. I clawed at the fabric, desperate for leverage, but my fingers found only lint and crumbs. His weight settled again, a mountain pinning me in place. Every creak of the chair was a reminder of my prison, every subtle movement a threat to my fragile existence. I was a speck, a nothing, trapped beneath a colossus who didn’t even know I was here.
Then, a low rumble vibrated through the cushion, a deep, ominous growl that seemed to come from the core of Nate’s body. My heart stopped. I knew that sound—too well. It was the prelude to something far worse than the crushing weight or the stifling heat. The air grew heavier, the faint scent of Axe now mingling with something sour, something primal. Another rumble, louder this time, rolled through the chair like distant thunder. My mind screamed: No, no, no. I thrashed, my tiny limbs flailing against the unyielding fabric, but there was no escape. The crevice that had saved me was now my cage.
Nate shifted again, the movement grinding me deeper into the cushion. The rumble peaked, a grotesque crescendo, and then it came—a hot, suffocating gust that roared through the fabric, a noxious cloud that burned my eyes and choked my lungs. I gagged, my body convulsing as the stench enveloped me, a mix of decay and something unnameably worse. Tears streamed down my face, my screams silent under the overwhelming assault. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know.
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