I only had a few minutes to gather my thoughts and get myself under control. If my memory was correct, I knew I was in for some trouble— perhaps the best kind of trouble. As I carefully made my way around the broken glass and onto the window sill, my eyes were met with a floor made of carpet. Not concrete, not grass, or dirt, or luxuriously hedged bushes, but carpet. 

I managed to navigate my way to the ground level by climbing down the side of the structure, as my bare feet finally met with the soft, white carpeting. Outside of the house was almost completely dark, aside from a thin strip of fluorescent lighting that emitted from the bottom of the black tarp. I stealthily made my way to the edge of the darkness and lifted from under it to make my escape, barely giving myself enough room to climb under. My jaw dropped as my eyes fixated on where I truly was. 

It was a scene right out of Jack and the Beanstalk. 

I was beside myself. There she was, right in front of me— the sight of a 30-foot-tall woman on a giant stairmaster machine, drenched in sweat— the intense smile on her face as she made her rounds while listening to EDM music. Above her was a digital timer, slowly counting down, with the time reading “00:15:47.” To her left was an open gym bag with shoes and a change of clothes, and to her right, a dining room chair with two armrests; duct tape casually sitting on the seat of the chair. This was relatively a mile away from me, as I soon figured out that I was now the size of a Ken Doll. I had to get out of sight, unless I wanted to be discovered outside of what I finally realized was a doll house.

“That would explain the fake electronics and plastic food,” I muttered to myself. I hastily made my way back under the black cloth and climbed up to the second floor once more, frantically falling back inside the living room and letting out an exasperated sigh of relief. 

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it actually worked!” I exclaimed as I paced back and forth in the living room. It was the feeling of sending a risky text to someone and finally seeing their response after an hour of regret. It was like I had just jumped off a cliff, and there was no going back. Frankly, I was fucked. 

The smell from outside had finally made sense, too. It was indeed body odor that my nose had picked up before, and it only seemed to get stronger as the window stayed open from me breaking it earlier. Every inhale seemed to meet my nose with displeasure, but I couldn’t fool myself— I was extremely aroused by the entire situation. My erection throbbed more and more intensely, creating the most confusing sense of turned on and absolutely terrified. I felt the intense urge to masturbate, but I had no time for such things; I was in the middle of the most erotically intense situation of my life. 

My mind raced for ideas on how to escape this mess I had created for myself. Maybe she knew that I was awake by now, frantically searching for an escape. Why would she lock me inside of a doll house? Wouldn’t it have been easier to bound my arms and legs together and place me somewhere easily accessible? Was she looking to make a game out of this whole experience? 

Most importantly, why did I ever ask for this?