Unaffiliated Students Dorm Shrunken First Semester chapter 2 by maximally

Rubbing his eyes and taking another look around, the freshly-shrunken freshman quickly pieced together his location. To his right sat a modest flatscreen TV hooked to an aging Nintendo 64; to his left lay two well-worn green couches buried under empty takeout containers and crumpled rolling papers. Behind him, two massive posters of Bob Marley and Pulp Fiction loomed like billboards above another green couch. Putting all of this together, it didn't take a genius to figure out that he had woken up in his very own common room—in the residential building known to everyone else at Ventus as the Unaffiliated Students Dorm or "USD."

If the jocks in House Diana were the strongest students on campus, the nerds in Minerva were the smartest, the goths in Juno were the scariest, the e-girls in Fortuna were the hottest, and the losers in Proserpina were the grossest, the undergrads lumped into USD were the most down-to-earth—and as a result of being held at arm's length from the social scene of the major houses, they usually stayed that way. A mix of stoners, slackers, chillers and normies, the ones who stuck around for all four years tended to be steady as a rock, either through intense strength of character or a constant stream of weed and booze. In other words, in a school of intense extremes, they were simply, refreshingly average—from their academic performance to their social lives to their sex lives.

Realizing where he was, Max let out a big sigh of relief. While he wasn't sure if anyone in here had the intellectual horsepower to figure out a cure for whatever he'd woken up with, it was nice knowing that he wasn't far from his room—and that he wouldn't have to worry about running afoul of any overbearing jocks, horny nerds, kinky goths, bratty e-girls or fetid gooners on his way back there. All he had to do now was get the attention of one of his dorm mates, and hope they didn't mistake him for a bug. 

Mentally running through the pros and cons of each USD resident, Max sighed again. None were necessarily great—each had their own risks and potential power dynamics for someone his size—yet that realization only made him more grateful for one glaring mercy in his situation. At least his overbearing step-family was still back home, completely unaware of what had happened to him and far removed from this strange new nightmare. Reflecting on how each of them might react to all of this, he shuddered.

First and foremost there was his stepmother—Victoria. The charismatic 42-year-old Mexican-American woman stood at an imposing 6'1" and weighed in at 250 voluptuous pounds, her body boasting XL breasts, an XXL butt, wide hips and thick thighs that she loved to show off in tight clothing. As the ultimate helicopter mom, she already micromanaged his life back home to an exhausting degree; at three inches tall, she'd likely never let him out of her sight, constantly fussing over him and smothering him against her massive curves while insisting it was all for his own good. 

Then there was his stepsister—Izzy. At 18 years old, the 5'3" and 180-pound bottom-heavy Mexican-American mall goth had inherited her mother's curves along with a mischievous streak a mile wide. With her straight black emo fringe, piercings, black lipstick, and constant lazy attitude, she had always taken pleasure in teasing Max and being held up as the golden child by Victoria. If she found him like this, he could only imagine the bratty laughter and the humiliating ways she'd use him as a toy—maybe tucked into her tight shorts or under her foot during one of her gaming sessions. 

Then there was Lupe, his step-grandmother. The first-generation Mexican-American GILF had always been a pillar of warm, overwhelming affection in the family, her matronly frame soft and enveloping as she doted on him with the kind of grandmotherly love that left little room for personal space. With her experienced presence and tendency to baby even other adults, Max knew that discovering him at three inches tall would turn her into an inescapable source of smothering care—likely cradling him in her ample bosom or between her thick thighs while cooing over her “little nieto.” 

Finally, there was Victoria's sister—Fanny. The 39-year-old 5'3" and 350-pound massive BBW Mexican-American woman was the fun, hot-mess outlier of the family, with her ashen black hair in a messy bun, stunning yet tired features, beach-ball breasts, enormous gut, and a sleeping-bag ass that could easily overwhelm anyone. Chronically enthusiastic and supportive in her chaotic way, she'd always been more laid-back with Max than the others, but at his tiny size, ending up lost in the vast, soft expanses of her body during one of her enthusiastic hugs or “adventures” would be nothing short of catastrophic.