The noxious cloud lingered, a toxic shroud that coated my throat and stung my eyes. My tiny body shuddered, pressed into the crevice of the chair’s cushion, the coarse fabric scraping my raw skin. The heat was a living thing, wrapping me in its humid grip, and the stench—God, the stench—was a relentless assault. I coughed, my ribs screaming with each spasm, but there was no relief. Only Nate, oblivious above me, a colossus whose weight pinned me to this hell.
A low groan rumbled from his throat, vibrating through the chair. “Ugh, I guess I must have an upset stomach,” he muttered, his voice muffled but unmistakable. My heart sank, a cold dread pooling in my gut. No. Please, no. I clawed at the cushion, my fingers scraping lint and crumbs, but the crevice held me fast. Another deep gurgle rolled through the chair, closer now, like the growl of some monstrous beast waking up. My mind raced, panic clawing at my sanity. Not again. I can’t—
Nate shifted, the cushion compressing as his weight redistributed. The pressure squeezed my chest, forcing a whimper from my lips. Then it came—a second blast, hotter and fouler than the first, a roaring gust that tore through the fabric and slammed into me. My eyes burned, tears streaming as I gagged, my lungs rejecting the rancid air. The stench was unbearable, a mix of rot and sulfur that coated my skin like oil. I thrashed, my tiny limbs useless against the unyielding prison, my screams swallowed by the suffocating void.
Another rumble followed, then another fart, this one wetter, sharper, slicing through the already toxic atmosphere. My body convulsed, my stomach heaving, but there was nowhere to go, no way to escape the onslaught. The air was a swamp, thick and unbreathable, and Nate’s weight pressed me deeper, grinding me into the cushion’s fibers. I could hear him shift again, muttering something about “bad tacos,” oblivious to the torment My mind spiraled, clinging to the faint hope that he’d get up, that this would end. How long could I survive this? How long until Nate stopped? Every creak of the chair, every subtle shift, was a reminder of my fragility, my insignificance beneath him. I was trapped, a speck enduring an eternity of torment, praying for a mercy that wasn’t coming.
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