“Daron?” Freddie’s slightly muffled call reached his ears, and Daron took the time to groan and bury his face in his hands. There clearly wasn’t a way out for him that didn’t involve another person, but, well...did it have to be Freddie?
Freddie’s voice was curious enough that it was clear she hadn’t seen him yet, but that didn’t last long.
“Oh! Daron? Are you okay…?” Her voice took a concerned and hesitant turn, clearly unsure if he’d be open to accepting help. Daron couldn’t help but feel guilt at her tone on top of everything else. So he answered with as much normalcy as he could.
“Yeah! Yeah, I just... I found a camera in the wall. See it?”
A pause.
“Oh, yeah! Huh,” Freddie said, her voice growing nearer. Presumably as she crouched down to study the webcam. Trying not to think about what things must look like from her end, Daron continued.
“I think there are more. I had to crawl in to grab the recording box. There’s a ton of cords going into different parts of the house in here.”
“Oh, ew! What? Cameras in the walls?”
“I know. I wanted to make sure to get it before we left. But, uh…” Daron felt heat rising in his cheeks as he cleared his throat before continuing. His legs squirmed a little more, crinkling the paper under them. “Freddie, I can’t...get back out. Not on my own. Can you…?”
“Yeah! Yeah,” Freddie echoed Daron’s overeager reassurance from earlier. Then after a brief hesitation: “I’ll grab your ankles? Sound good?”
“Sure,” Daron replied, trying not to think about the situation too hard as he picked the box back up in preparation for being yanked out. A few moments later, he felt his ankles lift about a foot off the ground. He also heard a soft grunt of exertion as she did, and Daron had to resist burying his face back on his hands. He had to be ready.
Moments later, Daron felt some strain on his lower half as Freddie began to pull. It took a second for her momentum to build up, but he was hopeful - until the plywood began to dig into his middle in protest. It was easy to pull the thin piece of wood out, but for Freddie to yank him out this way, the wood would have to bend in to the gap in the wall. And that, with the size of Daron’s puffy stomach, was really not as doable. The sharp pressure into his gut got more insistent by the second.
“Ahhhhhha,” he gasped out. “Hold on, hold on. Stop.”
Freddie did, immediately.
“I’m sorry! Are you good?”
“Yeah, no, it’s just this stupid plywood. Uh…” Daron really, really did not want to have to continue this thought. “We gotta try something else. Can...you lift it off me?”
“Oh!” Freddie’s voice got even closer to investigate the plywood on his belly, and Daron felt his cheeks burn. “I see, okay, yeah. I think I gotcha. Um…”
All Daron heard for a few seconds was his own deep breathing, but soon, small fingers began to press hesitantly into his soft middle.
“Sorry,” he groaned out as he felt them sink deeply into his flannel-covered stomach, searching for the end of the plywood. “God, I swear I didn’t know I was actually this fat.”
“Don’t be dumb, Daron. This isn’t exactly a giant opening. It does look pretty uncomfortable, though, are you sure you’re okay?” Freddie replied, hovering between exasperation and worry.
“Yeah, yeah. I am. Plenty of cushion and all. Please don’t worry.” It was uncomfortable, but the emotional side was much worse than the physical. “It’s just...a bad position,” he concluded uncertainly as Freddie’s hands continued to search for purchase between his too-tight flannel and the plywood.
“It happens, Daron. But, uh…” Freddie paused, then pressed into him with just the tiniest bit more pressure. “Are you sucking it in at all?”
“Ha,” he grunted, humiliated and exasperated and of course he wasn’t. “Good point. Here we go…” And he took enough of an obvious breath that Freddie could hear him, and hopefully drew in his stomach enough to help.
“There we goooo,” murmured his coworker, finally gripping the end of the plywood and lifting it up. Feeling the pressure around his stomach alleviate, Daron gripped his supplies, then hesitated.
“Perfect, keep that up, and uh...are you mostly out of the way?”
“Yeah,” Freddie replied, now more from one side of him. “I am.”
“Okay. ‘Cause I can’t push off anything. So…” Daron trailed off, his cheeks flaming red, before he began to squirm backward in earnest. It was incredibly awkward and not particularly fast in the progress area, but at least he was moving a little. He still bumped into the plywood (and Freddie herself a couple times), but it didn’t settle back into him to keep him in place, and that was all that mattered.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Daron’s head re-emerged from the opening and he gasped in a full breath. The box and the flashlight in his hands followed.
“Got it,” he couldn’t help but say weakly to Freddie as he lay there and showed her the offending item. “Easy as pie.”
She laughed easily and hard, clearly relieved.
“Good job, Daron! Holy ****,” Freddie said, marveling at the box and camera on the ground in front of her. She offered her coworker a hand, and Daron, after a brief hesitation, got into a position where he hoped he wouldn’t yank her to the ground, and took her up on it. Once he was upright, he realized his flannel had lost two buttons in the scuffle, the one right at his widest point - his belly button - and the one above it. Daron, already being at pretty peak embarrassment, took the development in stride.
After another moment, the pair lifted their newfound discoveries, took another couple deep breaths, and then made eye contact and nodded. This wasn’t just evidence for a briefing tomorrow. This needed to go to the police now.
Freddie’s voice was curious enough that it was clear she hadn’t seen him yet, but that didn’t last long.
“Oh! Daron? Are you okay…?” Her voice took a concerned and hesitant turn, clearly unsure if he’d be open to accepting help. Daron couldn’t help but feel guilt at her tone on top of everything else. So he answered with as much normalcy as he could.
“Yeah! Yeah, I just... I found a camera in the wall. See it?”
A pause.
“Oh, yeah! Huh,” Freddie said, her voice growing nearer. Presumably as she crouched down to study the webcam. Trying not to think about what things must look like from her end, Daron continued.
“I think there are more. I had to crawl in to grab the recording box. There’s a ton of cords going into different parts of the house in here.”
“Oh, ew! What? Cameras in the walls?”
“I know. I wanted to make sure to get it before we left. But, uh…” Daron felt heat rising in his cheeks as he cleared his throat before continuing. His legs squirmed a little more, crinkling the paper under them. “Freddie, I can’t...get back out. Not on my own. Can you…?”
“Yeah! Yeah,” Freddie echoed Daron’s overeager reassurance from earlier. Then after a brief hesitation: “I’ll grab your ankles? Sound good?”
“Sure,” Daron replied, trying not to think about the situation too hard as he picked the box back up in preparation for being yanked out. A few moments later, he felt his ankles lift about a foot off the ground. He also heard a soft grunt of exertion as she did, and Daron had to resist burying his face back on his hands. He had to be ready.
Moments later, Daron felt some strain on his lower half as Freddie began to pull. It took a second for her momentum to build up, but he was hopeful - until the plywood began to dig into his middle in protest. It was easy to pull the thin piece of wood out, but for Freddie to yank him out this way, the wood would have to bend in to the gap in the wall. And that, with the size of Daron’s puffy stomach, was really not as doable. The sharp pressure into his gut got more insistent by the second.
“Ahhhhhha,” he gasped out. “Hold on, hold on. Stop.”
Freddie did, immediately.
“I’m sorry! Are you good?”
“Yeah, no, it’s just this stupid plywood. Uh…” Daron really, really did not want to have to continue this thought. “We gotta try something else. Can...you lift it off me?”
“Oh!” Freddie’s voice got even closer to investigate the plywood on his belly, and Daron felt his cheeks burn. “I see, okay, yeah. I think I gotcha. Um…”
All Daron heard for a few seconds was his own deep breathing, but soon, small fingers began to press hesitantly into his soft middle.
“Sorry,” he groaned out as he felt them sink deeply into his flannel-covered stomach, searching for the end of the plywood. “God, I swear I didn’t know I was actually this fat.”
“Don’t be dumb, Daron. This isn’t exactly a giant opening. It does look pretty uncomfortable, though, are you sure you’re okay?” Freddie replied, hovering between exasperation and worry.
“Yeah, yeah. I am. Plenty of cushion and all. Please don’t worry.” It was uncomfortable, but the emotional side was much worse than the physical. “It’s just...a bad position,” he concluded uncertainly as Freddie’s hands continued to search for purchase between his too-tight flannel and the plywood.
“It happens, Daron. But, uh…” Freddie paused, then pressed into him with just the tiniest bit more pressure. “Are you sucking it in at all?”
“Ha,” he grunted, humiliated and exasperated and of course he wasn’t. “Good point. Here we go…” And he took enough of an obvious breath that Freddie could hear him, and hopefully drew in his stomach enough to help.
“There we goooo,” murmured his coworker, finally gripping the end of the plywood and lifting it up. Feeling the pressure around his stomach alleviate, Daron gripped his supplies, then hesitated.
“Perfect, keep that up, and uh...are you mostly out of the way?”
“Yeah,” Freddie replied, now more from one side of him. “I am.”
“Okay. ‘Cause I can’t push off anything. So…” Daron trailed off, his cheeks flaming red, before he began to squirm backward in earnest. It was incredibly awkward and not particularly fast in the progress area, but at least he was moving a little. He still bumped into the plywood (and Freddie herself a couple times), but it didn’t settle back into him to keep him in place, and that was all that mattered.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Daron’s head re-emerged from the opening and he gasped in a full breath. The box and the flashlight in his hands followed.
“Got it,” he couldn’t help but say weakly to Freddie as he lay there and showed her the offending item. “Easy as pie.”
She laughed easily and hard, clearly relieved.
“Good job, Daron! Holy ****,” Freddie said, marveling at the box and camera on the ground in front of her. She offered her coworker a hand, and Daron, after a brief hesitation, got into a position where he hoped he wouldn’t yank her to the ground, and took her up on it. Once he was upright, he realized his flannel had lost two buttons in the scuffle, the one right at his widest point - his belly button - and the one above it. Daron, already being at pretty peak embarrassment, took the development in stride.
After another moment, the pair lifted their newfound discoveries, took another couple deep breaths, and then made eye contact and nodded. This wasn’t just evidence for a briefing tomorrow. This needed to go to the police now.
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