It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Vax Vax'ildan, a half-elf rogue . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, Tiny you, thanks to a potion that does that. Scanlan managed to go ahead and put in an Immovable Rod within its stomach, which held it up for a moment, before it decided to truly gain the advantage it needed to escape the circumstance, allowed it to tear through its body, as well as an arrow that was shot by Vex, towards her brother, in the hopes of, I don't know, being a symbol of hope?
DM: I'd say yes, because the only reason you didn't have disadvantage with the other blade is because it was within an existing wound and then you pulled back.
Player: Then I miss.
DM: Okay, the other dagger, you go ahead and stab again, this time it hits a dense part of muscle and does sink in, but not enough to do any serious damage from the inside.
Player: And there's air queefing in and out of this slot?
DM: A little bit, yes. It's about that wide. You staying there?
Player: Yes. No. I'm going to slide my body and try to stick head and dagger arm out of it and hang half in and half out, if possible.
DM: Yeah. Go ahead and make a straight strength check.
Player: 13.
DM: 13? That's fine. Thankfully, the DC's lower because you managed to carve the large wound in. You plant your feet against the other muscle wall that you are between and you push off and get yourself through. And in the most awkward, tiny birth, just above your armpits, your head and arm emerge out the side. Immediately a gust of wind hits your hand as you realize and look down: you are hundreds of feet above the ground. Bramblewood right beneath you. But you are partially out of the dragon.
