11:34 PM 

“>>10499290 (OP)

Not only are they less intelligent, they’re just totally ignorant of the world around them. Every single one I’ve ever met has had a glaze in their eyes like they can’t even fucking muster a single coherent sentence. And just because they’re big they situate themselves on top of the socioeconomic pyramid? Biggos are dumb fucks that only get anywhere because of their size. There, I said it.” 

Dante takes his blanket off and gently creaks his door open as to not awaken his family. He gently steps through the hall and into the kitchen, giving himself a moment to breathe, away from the desktop. Resentment can be so tiring. 

He grabs a can of kombucha from the fridge. Mom is on a health kick. He doesn’t mind. 

Dante notices his hand shaking a bit when he reaches, not realizing how wound up he really was. It’s always been this way. So much energy comes out when he feels miserable, but when time comes to direct it towards something productive, it vanishes. The small energy he can muster is often used to insult strangers online. It bothered him. He didn’t like this version of himself, but everyone else did it, so whatever. 

He turns the kitchen light off before silently trekking down the hallway, waiting to open the can until he is in the quite confines of his bedroom. His body shivers before closing the door, sitting down at his chair and wrapping up in his plush blanket before instinctively hitting F5. 

Several new replies, one directed towards his last message.

“>>10499301

bug cope lol. get over yourself. just because ONE person was rude to you doesnt mean all giants are bad. youre just a typical tiny with a victim mindset who thinks hes special.” 

Dante’s heart raced before leaving the can at his desk and pressing reply. His fingers autonomously fly across the keyboard, fueled by angst. 

“>>10499305

See? Exactly what I’m talking about. You claim not all giants are rude, yet refer to me as bug. You’re a hypocrite with absolutely no self awareness. And victim mindset? Seriously? Look up giant on tiny crime statistics, then get back to me. Giants, or BIGGOS as I like to call them, are in for a rude awakening once the invasions start.” 

A hypothetical judgment day for giants (often believed in by conspiratorial tinies) is a day in which tiny militias sneak into the houses of sleeping giants and poison them with fentanyl. It’s widely discredited as a baseless, racist fantasy. 

He opens another tab. Several, in fact. Angst is a funny thing. No matter how much attention he tried to allocate towards reading another post or Discord message, his mind was on the argument. His heart was restless and his breathing was erratic. He’d go back and refresh. Nothing. Then again, until finally, a reply. 

“>>10499308

hahahaha any tiny that believes in that shit or talks the way you do has a secret giantess fetish, i fucking know it. also i called you a bug because you said biggos first. but please, keep replying. tiny cope is the most entertaining thing ever.” 

Not many are aware of why people say awful things. No one can really imagine themselves stooping low enough to conjure up such imaginative, personal insults. The secret is being at a low point, like Dante, with nothing to lose, being fueled by a jaded, cynical hatred of the world and nothing more. His stomach turns before vigorously hitting reply and slamming on his keys. 

“>>10499410

Know what? I bet you’d never talk like that to my face. Giants are so overwrought with giant guilt that they basically start groveling at the knees when faced with a tiny. Your kind are so fucking pathetic. Just another privileged low IQ giant that wouldn’t even last a minute as a tiny in the Ridgeline sanctuary. 

Giants are a net negative. They take up more space, fuck up the environment, and are a detriment to the economy. Kill yourself, biggo scum.” 

Dante submitted in a fit of heavy breathing before standing up. He ran to his bed and covered himself with the blanket. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep, but lying in a fetal position under blankets tended to calm him down. 

He breathed deeply, trying to feel the texture of his pillows and blankets, grounding himself into a state of bliss. His heartbeat slowed and his anxiety reduced before he thought for a second… did he just type out his location? 

Every town had a sanctuary, which always shared the same name of the town, except it was meant for tinies only. So Chicago has a Chicago sanctuary, and so on. 

In a state of sheer panic, he jumped up out of bed, tripped over his laundry basket of clean clothes he had yet to put away, and raced to the thread to delete his post. He spammed the button before refreshing the page. There was already a reply to his now deleted message. 

“>>10499415

i was going to spare you the embarrassment but im fairly certain you’re the anon that was spreading your bullshit in the ridgeline meetup thread (in which you posted your email). long story short, is there anything you’d like to say before i come over? I live in ridgeline, too :)” 

Dante’s eyes pulsated behind his skull as his hands shivered above the keyboard, unsure of a response. 

Was it time to rake it in? Should he apologize? No, because there’s absolutely no way this person was telling the truth. But could he risk a giant showing up? He knew the risks. He had seen many rekt threads in which giants snuck in to sanctuaries and did unspeakable things. Maybe it wasn’t a giant. Maybe it was a tiny apologist who was just going to give him shit, maybe throw a rock at his house.

He sat staring at the pixels, burning their way into his retinas, rereading the message over and over. 

Fuck that. He wasn’t going to be threatened.

“>>10499420

I used Ridgeline as an example. You’d never find out where I actually am. 

Kill yourself. Giants and giant apologists can all go to Hell…” 

Dante typed more, including many regular human slurs that most of you are familiar with, yet I fear that if I shared what followed after this, this story may be flagged or removed. His fingers glided across the keys in a symphony of hate, he was a composer of the most vile speech that could possibly be uttered, even getting a bit creative with his descriptions of his adversary. He projected every ounce of worthlessness, dissected every possible weakness, critiqued, ridiculed, mocked, and disparaged this anonymous forum browser with such intense ferocity that his mind felt numb. He sat staring at his response, not even remembering pressing the submit button, skimming these terrible words with great distaste. 

He used to get picked first in kickball. He cried tears of joy when he got a game cube for Christmas. What happened to that sweet child? He thought, before getting up to take a piss, allowing his heart to rest. 

He pissed on the side of the toilet as to not make as much noise. He watched it dribble beneath the dim lit tungsten light against the porcelain. He noticed as the last drops dispersed, the toilet bowl water continued moving. He watched longer; the vibrations bumped through it one at a time, until finally he *felt* them. Distant yet certain thuds came closer and closer. His stomach dropped. This was the end. 

Without even flushing, he ran into his bedroom and hid in the closet. He knew it made no difference. It was just instinctual. 

Sitting in the closet gave him time to reflect. Anxiety thoughts poured from his subconscious like a firehose. “I just got myself killed. I just got my mom killed. I potentially got my entire neighborhood demolished, all because of my own insecurities.” The thunderous vibrations encroached slowly, closer and closer.

The thing was, even though it seemed counter-intuitive, most tinies didn’t fear destruction from giants. It was widely recognized as an uncommon yet disproportionately reported phenomenon. Tiny media loved vilifying the giants and vice versa. Many had become numb to the over sensationalization. And so, when the giant marched through the street, most of the town refrained from panicking, instead becoming mildly annoyed that a visitor was coming so late. Few lights turned on in nearby homes, but not many. 

But Dante lacked the common sense to question giant representation in media. He believed the wives tales and conspiracies, the giant on tiny crime statistics (that are overblown and discredited), the frame of view that these beings along with various other shadowy organizations were out to get him. The byproducts of an isolated existence of fear. 

The footsteps grew so close that he closed his eyes, waiting to be crushed any moment. Tears streamed down his face thinking of his poor mom that he just sentenced to death, the house she worked so hard to afford about to be obliterated by an angry internet stranger. 

Crunched in the back of his closet, eyes squeezed shut and shivering, the steps stopped. He peaked one eye open. False alarm? 

He got up, wiping the salty liquid off his nose and eyes, some getting into his mouth. A quick yank on the blinds revealed two massive feet on his front lawn. His stomach dropped again. Converse sneakers the size of city buses stood planted, as if awaiting a response. He could not see beyond the pale white legs and black socks connected to the sneakers. 

A bellowing voice above seemed to clear their throat. 

Suddenly, a blink of blinding light. Two, in fact. White blasts like a flashbang. Dante covered his face and brought his shivering body to his computer chair. 

“What the hell…” 

Unsure of what to do, he refreshed the thread a few times on his computer. Nothing until… oh… Oh no…

A photo taken from someone’s phone… the giant’s phone… a photo of his house from high above, with two legs planted in his yard. Attached, the following, harrowing sentence:

“come outside anon :)” 

He had no choice. He was grateful that this being had the decency to not resort to catastrophic measures because of their dispute. 

He opened his bedroom door, mind and heart speeding, eyes pulsating, his body quivering down the hall as he fights back tears. 

He holds the front door knob. It’s as if he’s staying inside the plane during a skydive. He knows he needs to jump, but the thought of it makes him want to throw up. He creaks the front door open. 

Peering through the crack reveals the full body of the stranger. He scans up the pale white legs to reveal ripped jean shorts, a chain wallet looped through the side with a black belt, tucked in black tee shirt with an anime girl on the front. The stranger had breasts… Dante was embarrassed even more, expecting a male giant as an adversary. 

Above her breasts was a cute face, short black hair to her shoulders with blonde highlights in the front. She looked like she often wore makeup, but wasn’t today. Her face was glowing from the light of her phone, a devilish smirk staring at the screen. As Dante stood there, her eyes met his. His cover was blown.

She crouched down, bringing her face close to the front door, whispering. 

“Come out, it’s okay.” 

Dante opened the door. He tried to appear not terrified. An attempt was made to casually close the door, but it didn’t click at first. He had to try again. It slid open again. He turned around and manually had to turn the knob and close the door, his hand shaking so bad that he wanted to cry again. He timidly turned back to her, and walked out, unable to stare her in the eyes, holding one limp arm as he stared at the floor. 

She laid her open palm on the front lawn, motioning towards the boy. He got the message and climbed in. 

Dante expected to be crushed, bullied, humiliated. As far as he was concerned, he deserved it and didn’t care. 

The girl lifted him up to her eyes. Dante hurried into the center of the palm, terrified of heights. This was a normal way for giants to speak to tinies. It was considered rude to bend down. 

Dante’s eyes were closed. He sat fetal in her palm until her quiet, warm voice washed over him.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to scare you.” 

She had planned on being more torturous, more cruel, lifting her foot above the tiny stranger and his house in a threatening manner, but the state of Dante was so pathetic that she refrained. He was already so clearly stricken with guilt and shame that it would only be mean to go further. 

Dante’s fear remained, but was diluted with embarrassment. He muttered uncontrollably.

“I’m I’m I’m really sorry I didn’t I really haven’t been feeling well I don’t know I have problems I’m really in a bad place right now-” His voice shook on the verge of breaking throughout the word vomit. 

“What? Did you just apologize?”

“Yeah I’m really sorry. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’m really fucked up.”

He still stared downwards at her anime shirt. It was one of those trendy Neon Genesis ones. 

“I was expecting you to be an asshole. I was thinking about recording it for a cringe thread.” 

“I am an asshole.”

“No, you’re okay. Not as bad as other people on 4chan. You’re actually cuter than I expected.” 

 She said it so dryly and matter of fact that it didn’t even resonate as a compliment. 

Dante sat autistically twiddling his hands. 

“Thanks for not hurting me. I thought you were going to smash my house. My mom is inside sleeping.”

“I figured. I don’t kill tinies. That’s really fucked up.”

She kept a smile the whole time. 

“So… um… are we good…” Dante wasn’t sure what to say or do. 

“Well, not yet. I don’t think a sorry is enough.” 

“D-d-do you want me to pay you? I can venmo you-”

“No, nothing like that. Is your sleep schedule fucked up?” 

Considering it was already past midnight, it seemed obvious. 

“Yeah.”

“When do you usually go to sleep?”

“Um, like 4am…” 

“Want to come over for a bit? I’m bored and need more tiny friends.” 

It was sort of a social convention for a giant to have tiny friends. It made them feel as if their opinions about society and politics were more valid. 

“After everything I said? Why would you want to be friends?” 

“Part of me wants to change your mind. About giants, y’know. I think the world would be a better place if giants were more welcoming.” 

Dante’s fear resided enough to realize her breath had been blowing across his face throughout her whispers. The girl was stunningly cute. The way she looked down at him put him into a trance.

“Well… that would be nice…do you… actually watch Neon Genesis, or did you just like that shirt…” 

“I LOVE it, are you kidding? By the way, I’m Paige.” 

“Nice to meet you… I think… Sorry my name is Dante or you can call me Dan its really up to you I don’t really care.” He was trying to shake the awkwardness but it felt impossible.

The girl strode away. Dante looked back down at his house as they got further. He looked around the night sky. He had never been held by a giant, a privilege usually reserved for personal friends of giants. Paige went on about the show as he observed his surroundings. He’d never seen his neighborhood from this high. The stars  felt bigger and closer. The gentle summer night breeze felt amazing. He realized how much anguish he was putting himself through by chaining himself to the screen. Looking back at Paige’s torso revealed her breasts flick and bounce with each footstep. Dante looked away immediately, afraid she’d notice him staring. 

Despite the ideal manner in which these events transpired, the boy’s trust and hope had yet to be validated. He imagined a slow and painful death as Paige prodded him with needles once in the secure confines of her house. But this, again, was fear speaking. What would be in store for him would be a comfortable and pleasant change of pace from the neurotic psychosis. 

Unsure of what lies beyond, he sat curled in a ball, listening to Paige’s soothing analysis of the anime against the nostalgic gusts of air, the scent of which was fresh and outdoorsy combined with some of the Gain dryer sheets from Paige’s clothes, a vague hint of artificial vanilla perfume beyond that. The person he had spewed the most regrettable sentences in his life towards was now a source of comfort. 

He wished he could rest in her palm for hours. 

The boy dozed off at some point during the walk. It was not out of boredom, but more of a sedated comfort, whether it was the simple touch of a woman or Paige’s company, it was as if he had just felt peace for the first time in years. 

Keys clinked into a lock followed by the loud creak of a wooden front door. The inside was too dark. His eyes had not yet adjusted. Paige swiftly moved through the dark home and into her bedroom from muscle memory. 

The light felt brighter than it really was; the room was aglow in various pieces of memorabilia, figurines, candles, clothes strewn about haphazardly, comforting feminine scents, band and film posters, cutesy pastel furniture, a large bed with the most plush pillows and blankets he’s ever seen. 

“You’re awake.” 

She seemed to address him so robotically. 

Dante’s body was gently dropped on her desk, in front of her monitors and keyboard. It was RGB with pink keycaps, mechanical but not cherry mx, some Walmart clone, caked in dust and fingerprints. Just like his. 

Coerced into a state of comfort, he began. 

“Your room is really pretty. I always wanted to decorate mine, but I usually just spend my money on Steam stuff. I need to get better at saving, because I think good interior design is worth it. It makes the place so much nicer and comf-” 

“Hey. Shut up for a second.” 

Dante looked up, not used to her aggressive tone. 

“You really think we’re just the bestest of friends now? Did you actually read what you said to me?” 

“But…” 

Dante mistakenly thought this was over with. He wished it was. He started again.

“I thought… I mean you said it was okay, right? I apologized-” 

“No, I said it wasn’t enough. Some punishment is due.” 

A newfound malicious presence seemed to overtake Paige. 

“Let me reread some of your messages to me, in case you forgot.” 

“I didn’t forget…” 

“You didn’t? So you think a quick sorry makes all that okay? No, you’re a piece of shit.” 

The boy was dumb struck. Too much to even speak. He stared, not sure what to say. 

A menacing, smug smile overtook Paige’s face. She took her fingers and plucked Dante up. If a palm to the ground was a welcoming and friendly manner of picking up a tiny, this was the rude, frowned upon one. 

“You think I’d be able to get away with it if I fucked with you in the middle of a tiny sanctuary? All those eyes watching?” 

A familiar distrusting frustration rose out of the once afraid boy. His fears were being validated. That anger that only came out behind computer screens began to materialize itself for the first time in the real world. 

“You really are all the same. You giants have the potential to do good things, but no, you do whatever the fuck you want, killing and taking advantage of tinies because you’re all giant retards. I fucking knew it was too good to be true.” 

A newfound conviction gives Dante confidence. He’d rather go down swinging than begging. 

“Aaaand there it is. I knew you were still racist! I knew you were just putting up a front. Don’t you think if I was like other giants, I would’ve crushed your house with everyone in it?”

“Okay, you had the fucking decency to not kill my whole family, CONGRATULATIONS! Fuck you, do whatever you want. You’re just confirming my beliefs at this point.” 

The boys heart raced again, but instead of an overwhelming fear stricken paralysis, he remained strong. 

“Do you like giant on tiny porn?” 

Dante was taken aback. 

“What? Why the fuck would you ask me that?” 

“Do you?” 

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” 

He turned away, refusing to acknowledge her. 

“You do! Oh my God! You can’t get a giant girlfriend, so you hate them all.” 

“Fuck off. That’s typical giant rationalization bullshit. I hate giants because time and time again, they’ve proven to be rude, inconsiderate, belligerent, obnoxious, and worst of all, stupid as-” 

Dante’s face got smothered in the wet, plush lips of Paige. He was drenched in her lips as they smacked against his body. She dangled him back in front of her face. He was shocked. 

“Do you think I’m pretty? Yes or no?” 

Dante, still shocked, didn’t hear her. 

“What…” 

“Do you like me? Am I attractive to you?” 

She said this already knowing what the answer was. Dante remained stubborn.

“You… look fine, I guess…” 

“Do you think I’m hot?” 

“Yes, okay, you’re attractive, Jesus Christ, are all of you giants so vain?” 

“Can I tell you something?” 

Dante breathed deeply as to steady his heartbeat, still feeling the warm moisture from her mouth.

“It’s my fantasy to forcefully take a tiny that’s been talking shit to me online, and use them for whatever I want. Play with them, enslave them, fuck them, etcetera. Except, that’s really fucked up. I don’t want to actually do that, because that’s really, really wrong. Unless, of course, the other person consents to it.” 

Dante listened, too shy to ask where this was going, but deep down he knew.

“I think it’s hot that you hate giants. I want to belittle, torment, and humiliate you.”

Her face started getting redder as her excitement grew. This only made her more attractive to Dante. Finally, he spoke up. 

“That’s ridiculous. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. Did you… look through my search history?” 

“Shut up. Say that you’re okay with me doing these things to you.” 

“...and if I don’t?” 

“If you don’t, you can leave. Good luck getting back home. Might take a day or two, being a tiny and all.” 

“You’re really fucked up, you know that?”

“And you’re a racist.”

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck YOU!” 

They paused for a moment. She bit her lip. Dante’s anger left his face at the sight of her doing that. He wanted everything she described, yet his pride made it impossible to admit. 

As a sort of test, Paige brought her face closer. Dante did not contest. She brought it close enough for Dante to feel the gentle breaths from her nostrils. He was now leaning back on his elbows, looking up in awe. 

His lack of response signaled consent. 

“I don’t hear you protesting.” 

He gave in. 

“Well… I’m not protesting.” 

“You’re a worthless little speck.”

“And you’re a giant cunt.” 

Her eyes closed as her lips descended. He, too, stuck his lips out and closed his eyes, but it was like adding a single grain of salt to a pot of pasta. Her kiss overtook his, licking and sucking on his body like an action figure. 

Backing mere inches from his body, her sensual whispers washed over him.

“I want to drown you in spit. I want you to feel worthless compared to me.”

She consumed his body in a barrage of wet muscles once more. His pajamas were now soaked in this girl’s saliva. He moaned out, too. 

“I’m nothing compared to you… I love this…” 

She let out a moan. His words delighted her. 

As she cupped him with her hands, her dual monitors kicked on from sleep mode. The main screen was an old version of the thread, the latest post of which being his verbal assault. The other monitor was a video on TINIED.com, the thumbnail was a petite half naked woman with tinies occupying her shoulders and breasts. 

Seeing the screens come on thrusted Paige into fight or flight, hand gripping the mouse and clicking the bottom right of the screen as fast as humanly achievable. She saw Dante had been eyeing the screens, beating him to the punch. 

“Shut up… don’t say anything…” 

A turn back to Paige revealed a flushed smile. The thought that Dante’s presence could make a woman feel such a way had not occurred to him. It was revealing into how little he thought of himself. A sense of self so low can make one feel they are an observer of life more than a participant. It can be easy to forget one’s presence matters and affects the physical world. Paige’s face just reflected this. 

Sometimes it’s a look, a one off remark, a joke, a smile, a mutual understanding, that follows that ignition of amorous obsession. For Dante, it was her blush in that one instant, lasting less than a second, eyes squinted and cheeks salmon. 

The funny thing about women is they pick up on these things. Looking down from the screen and back at the small boy on her desk revealed a deepness to Dante formerly unobserved, an intelligence masked behind a rough exterior, a sensitive boy in a man’s suit. The look vanished with a few calculated blinks, as if he had to remind himself to not be vulnerable.

They had both forgotten about the porn on her computer. She questioned.

“What are you thinking about?” 

Throughout the night, Paige’s speech had a sardonic tone, sort of detached and ironic. It was merely a byproduct of being raised online, the world in which everything is a joke and sincerity is mocked. This was the first thing she said that seemed to disregard that culture, coming refreshingly from the heart. It was delicate. 

The funny thing about men is they can, sometimes but not always, pick up on these things. Her new tone sparked intrigue. 

Dante wanted to say he wasn’t thinking of anything. He wasn’t accustomed to this new anxiety, a hopeful anxiety closer to excitement, the thought of telling her the truth seemed exhilarating. 

“Just you.” 

Where did this charisma come from? He even finished it with an endearing smile. 

Paige propped her arm up against her chin. 

“What about me?” 

“You’re just really cool. I’m embarrassed I was so dumb.” 

Paige’s face filled with erotic tension as she brought it down to Dante.

“You sure you still don’t hate giants? That’s a shame. I was hoping to punish you.” 

Her acting was better than the porn Dante was so used to. He played into the game.

“Oh, I hate them. You’re the worst of them all.” 

She bit her lip. In a flash, Dante’s vision and body was covered by her hand. The world became a blur as he was violently tossed around before the cushioned impact of a mattress squeak revealed him to be face to face with Paige, on her bed. She had jumped on it sitting criss cross, dropping him in front of her shaven legs. 

Sensually and slowly her fingers tucked beneath her shorts to peel the sides of her shirt up. Once freed, she gripped either side and rose her hands over her head, shirt following all the while. The skin of her stomach slowly revealed, soft and warm. Dante was dazed, borderline delirious having never experienced a moment so intimate. The only noise was the ruffling of clothes. 

The shirt ascended just above her breasts that were cupped in a blue laced brazere, accented by shaved powdery armpits on either side. There was a miniscule draft of air from her shirt that wafted her dryer sheet scent, this time combined with a sweet and tropical lotion and Degree deodorant, ever so vaguely. 

And finally, her beautiful face was last to be revealed from the other side of the shirt, as it caught her hair and flipped it up. Freed by the shirt, she kept it in a ball. She maintained a smile as she lifted the shirt above the small boy who had been watching the whole time, straightening her bangs with the other hand. She dangled it for a moment before releasing, cascading him beneath the mountainous layers of cloth. 

Dante felt and searched through the cloth, somewhere in the darkness he felt the ink graphic of a pupil belonging to Asuka, about the size of him. Covered in her scent, shirt still warm from her body, it reminded him of a blanket fresh out the dryer. A hole was finally found through several seconds of sifting. Beyond the hole was fresh air, and an object hovering close, blocking the light from her standing lamp. A curious, goofy Paige, awaiting his departure from her tee shirt, her face and body directly above the boy. 

“Climb.”

“What?”

She sat back stretching both legs, now bare and unclothed besides a pair of floral panties, on either side of Dante. She leaned back on her arms, her crotch mere meters from the pile of shirt the boy had resurfaced from, followed by her belly and breasts.

“Climb me.” 

Truthfully, beneath that veneer of disdain, part of Dante did not want to admit how ideal the scenario had been playing out. He wanted to abide her every word, to scale her body, to explore it in the most intimate of ways. Still uncertain, almost half-awaiting the rug to be pulled from beneath him, he did as she commanded, approaching the cotton wall of fabric that masked her lady parts. 

The air turned from artificial scents to a sour musk upon his approach. Realizing he had never smelled a vagina, the hormonal overcharge made him primally obsessed. This cloth, tightly binding against her womanhood through an entire day (perhaps two, even) of 4chan usage, gathered with it every oil and odor that seeped from that region. It was powerful, aggressive, and delightful. 

One’s olfactory receptors, the part of the brain capable of identifying scents, is located directly beside the hippocampus, the part of the brain responsible for memories. This is why scent elicits memory and nostalgia better than any other sense. This was also why Dante’s brain, from now on, was permanently wired to remember this occasion, to crave this, to worship this scent from this day forward. It would never leave him. 

Feeling the cotton wall for any sort of grip so he could actually climb caused Paige to gently twitch, muscles retracting from his soft touch. The first attempt was made by clinging onto the cotton folds, but they would very quickly disperse upon impact. Dante continued touching and feeling despite realizing another approach would be necessary, hands moistening from the dampness of her panties. Examining outside the edge of her pantie lining showed pubic stubble by her thighs that could make for good leverage. 

The stubs were just small enough to act as expert level artificial rocks on climbing walls. Dante would grip, hoist himself up a few, then fail, falling down below and scraping his limbs against the sharp stubble. 

It was kind of hot to experience this much challenge and exhaustion between the legs of a woman who took pleasure in the watching the struggle. His third attempt forced him to actually forget about the situation. This could not be done while horny or distracted. 

After falling the third time, he noticed hushed giggles. Not by the sound, but by his climbing wall shaking and moving. 

“Paige, this is a pain in the ass. I can’t do it if you’re laughing.” 

A blushed Paige covered her mouth and nodded as he went for a fourth attempt. He slapped his face and stretched a bit in preparation before running full speed at the stubble. His body ached from the force he was applying on his hands and feet, desperate to climb her body. So much strength was exerted that he hardly felt horny anymore. If he were too look up once, it would come rushing back, throwing his focus off. So he kept his eyes right in front of him, pretending this was not a woman, but a chunk of rock, a cliff, a mountain. 

He made it high enough to grab the waistband of her panties, signifying a huge checkpoint. He pushed himself up with the last bit of strength he had, balancing his body against the thin strap. In order to maintain balance, he had to shimmy himself across, his chest against the bottom of her stomach, in search of another means of climbing. 

“Maybe this will be easier.” 

Paige’s torso shifted as she laid her body down. Dante’s energy could be restored as he lay flat against her stomach, no longer standing. Looking above him revealed a face blocked by two mounds, and a long barren stomach before them.