Marco was freaking out. He’d figured out where he was, as unlikely as it was. It was impossible, of course, but he was in an inexplicable situation and he couldn’t rule anything out. That was the mark of a great detective, he bet. But the situation was this:

1. He was trapped between two immense, jiggling walls of flesh.
2. It kind of smelled in here, like moist human skin, perfume, and farts.
3. It was very hot in here, very humid, and he was sweating freely.
4. He could hear the mall, muffled. He could hear people talking and, louder than that, the regular beat of someone’s loud footsteps. They sounded like Dorris’s wooden clogs, as a matter of fact.

Maybe none of that screamed that he was somehow locked up inside Dorris’s ass, but that was his conclusion. If he were shoved up inside her ass, all of those conditions would be valid, for one thing. For another, if he weren’t shoved up her ass, and if all those conditions were true (and they were), it would take an awful lot of work to construct an environment that could reasonably replicate all these effects. And what would be the point of that? Hazing a dude was one thing, but going through so much trouble just to mess with someone’s head?

The simplest answer had to be the likeliest answer, no matter how strange it sounded. Marco was impressed by that summary and felt maybe he’d missed his calling as a detective.