The year that followed Max's surrender to House Juno was the single most transformative period in modern human history. After a month of milking the shrunken freshman dry in the lab, then dosing a dozen other "volunteers" to supplement their shrinking serum reserves, the goths began to tap into their vast network of alumni — strategically planted throughout the government and corporate world — to begin the process of dissemination. Over the next few weeks, the serum found its way into the water supplies of every major American city—and soon, roughly 99% of men in the country were quickly reduced to the same diminutive stature as Max. Naturally, because the serum was designed to only affect males, the nation's women remained totally unaffected.

Amid the widespread chaos and disruption of "The Balancing," a new political movement was quickly swept to power. Promising stability, justice, and much-needed answers about what was happening, the Order of Juno received overwhelming public support to dissolve the existing U.S. government and replace it with an autocratic system ruled by Alexandra and her top lieutenants. At the same time, several international Juno cells and affiliate groups quickly established similar matriarchal affiliate regimes in South America, Europe, Asia and Africa. With power secured, the new world government's first act was establishing a network of "assimilation facilities" to handle any males who had managed to remain full-sized until that point.

Nine months after the first traces of Hazel's new serum were found in the tap water of San Trasero, Volumnia Ventus's dream had finally become a reality. The average global male height now hovered just shy of four inches, and continued to drop with every population of full-sized "rebels" put down by the forces of the new regime. To commemorate this victory, in a stirring speech broadcast worldwide, Volumnia's granddaughter proclaimed the dawn of a new feminine age. After centuries of war and greed, she said, the evils of patriarchy had been bested for good. 

As the foundations of human civilization were being shaken to their roots, Max remained trapped in the basement of House Juno, fueling the new order's machinations. His days were an endless cycle of automated orgasms, frequently ten or fifteen times in a single day, and his nights were sleepless and short. Most of the time, his only company was Hazel — now a top officer of the regime — who occasionally came in to check on him and fill the room with a few Hot Cheeto farts for good measure.

While the shrunken freshman had initially held out hope of staging some kind of escape from the goths, the truth got harder to ignore with every bit of news that trickled down to him. By the time Alexandra made her speech, it was clear that he wouldn't be any better off outside the lab. At least in here, he had some value to the regime—value that kept him fed and sheltered, making him better off than the overwhelming majority of men outside. Soon, rather than wasting any time on the ridiculous idea of seeking a better life beyond House Juno, he was dedicating every minute of his waking life to embracing his new position.

Then, a few weeks after Alexandra's speech, the buxom matriarch came to pay him a visit. Gently plucking him out of his enclosure, marveling at how frail he'd become in the months since their first meeting, she explained that she'd decided to make him her personal servant as a reward for all of his faithful service. With his will totally sapped, Max was powerless to offer any response but an enthusiastic yes. 

Three more months had passed since that fateful day—and as much as Max had hoped his life would get a little easier as Alexandra's plaything, nothing could have been further from the truth. After liberating him from the lab and bringing him up to her chambers, the voluptuous amazon had stuffed him up her ass and never looked back. To add insult to injury, her gas was every bit as bad as Kali's, if not worse. 

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Today, as usual, Max was woken up by a fart—a long, billowing gust that hit him square in the face, rousing him from another nightmare filled with gassy, big-butted women like his mistress. Early on in his time as her servant, he'd tried asking her, as carefully as he could, whether she'd ever consider letting him sleep somewhere else — like her cleavage, or her underwear drawer — but she'd always gently yet firmly insisted that his proper place was up her ass.

Unfortunately, even after a dozen weeks of constant proximity to the giant goth MILF's supernaturally productive asshole, his tolerance for her gas didn't seem to be getting any higher. The only thing it had given him, if he could even call it a gift, was the ability to discern what was behind this or that emission. If today's first fart was any indication, it seemed to be the work of all of Alexandra's usual favorites. 

She'd spent most of the previous evening at a long state dinner with several of her top advisors and functionaries, and while Max hadn't been able to see anything from his place in her ass, the menu at these events rarely varied—beans, eggs, chili and cheese, all in inconceivably large quantities. By the end of the night, as always, House Juno's banquet hall had smelled like a broken septic system—and that smell had followed Max back to Alexandra's chambers. Feeling his mistress's rump tensing up for another release, the shrunken 19-year-old diligently pressed his face even further against the wrinkled ring of flesh at the center, mentally preparing himself to inhale as much of what followed as possible. 

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As another eye-watering burst of gas exploded out into him, he forced himself not to turn away. Then, once his mistress had finished farting, he pursed his lips and pressed them against her hole for an appreciative kiss. Despite giving up any hopes of escape months ago, he still wanted to believe that he could use his proximity to Alexandra to influence her decision-making and potentially limit the harm done to his fellow men—but to do that, he knew he had to show his appreciation as frequently and feverishly as possible.

"Mmm," cooed Alexandra, clenching her cheeks around her shrunken servant. "Good morning, Max."

Hearing his mistress address him by name, Max offered her huge, filthy asshole several extra frantic kisses. With this simple gesture, she was affording him a degree of humanity now lost to the overwhelming majority of men worldwide. Despite everything she put him through, she still actually saw him as a person—and in the grand scheme of things, he knew that made him very, very lucky. 

Satisfied with this display of submission, Alexandra rolled out of bed and shuffled over to her closet to get dressed. Before The Balancing, she might have started the day with a shower. Now, though, free from the absurd demands of patriarchal society, most women only bathed on very special occasions—and Alexandra was no exception. Shuffling a bra, panties, a dress and a corset up over her huge, sweaty curves, she ended up pressing Max even further into the crack of her ass.

By now, House Juno's original headquarters had ballooned from its original Victorian foundations into a sprawling palace complex, occupying most of what had once been the Ventus campus. The school cafeteria was now a stately banquet hall, appointed in the goths' characteristically opulent yet austere style, and it was here that Alexandra began her day—seated at the head of the room's long table, digging into a plate of cheesy omelets and beans. Meanwhile, down in her ass, Max continued to absorb the last of the previous night's farts and prepare for everything her breakfast would soon inspire. 

"What's on the agenda today, Kali?" Turning to her second-in-command, now chief of the regime's infamous secret police, Alexandra chuckled to see the Indian amazon was already halfway done with her usual breakfast—a large bowl of shrunken men.

"The usual," said Kali, picking up a particularly terrified young man and swallowing him whole before letting out a huge, bassy burp. "Big thing is the council meeting." 

"Ah, of course." Alexandra sighed. "I'd almost forgotten about that." 

Of all the new responsibilities that came with being the leader of the female world, Alexandra liked her council meetings the least. Because the Juno Order had no elections or elected representatives, all of the regime's decisions and policies were now made by her and her council—but their meetings were frequently divided between hardliners like Kali and Vanessa, empathetic moderates like Heather and Ophelia, and wildcards like Hazel. She'd been dreading today's meeting — a referendum on whether men ought to have any rights at all in the eyes of the new government — all week.

"You're going to veto it, right?" Gulping another shrunken man into her mouth and stuffing another into the back of her pants to absorb an S.B.D. that quickly filled the dining room, Kali looked genuinely uncertain. 

"I'm going to hear them out," said Alexandra, wrinkling her nose and smiling. "But I wouldn't be worried if I were you." 

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As the voluptuous goth MILF cut another fart into her loyal servant's face, the smell was so bad that the other shrunken men on Kali's plate started to struggle even more intensely in discomfort. Bringing yet another handful of them up to her maw, the Indian amazon smiled. "Good."

Following breakfast and a very satisfying trip to the bathroom, Alexandra returned to her chambers to prepare for the council meeting. For previous historical leaders with a similar level of power, this might have involved reviewing relevant documents or practicing talking points—but for her, it meant rubbing one out with the help of her shrunken servant. With one hand on Max, pushing him all the way up into her greedy, gaping anus, and another hand on her clit, she had no trouble easily getting herself off at least three times in the course of the next thirty minutes—and letting loose with a series of especially heinous farts in the process. 

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While the buxom matriarch edged herself closer to a fourth and final climax, Max was surrounded by the hot, slimy, unforgiving darkness of her rectum. Depending on how horny his mistress was feeling, he regularly found himself up here four or five times in a given day—especially when she invited one of her top lieutenants like Kali into her chambers to join in on the fun. Still, he wasn't getting any closer to enjoying it. At this point, he knew that his best bet was simply keeping his eyes shut and waiting for the release of being squeezed out. 

When that release finally came, plunging him down into the icy water of Alexandra's toilet, he tried to look on the bright side. At least this time, nothing else seemed to be joining him in the bowl. Treading water and looking up at his smiling mistress, he forced a smile—and when she smiled back, some small part of him felt genuinely good. Whether he liked it or not, he was well aware that these little moments of warmth were as close as he'd likely get to real human connection ever again.

"Alright, Max," said Alexandra, bending down and fishing him out of the toilet before stepping over to the sink to wash him off. "This meeting is especially important. So I'm going to need your tongue working overtime down there. Got it?"

"G-got it," said Max, teeth still chattering from the frigid toilet water. "H-hey, uh... M-Mistress?"

"Yes, Max?" Alexandra smiled. She loved it when her servant worked up the courage to attempt conversation.

"T-this meeting later..." Unable to hold his mistress's gaze for long without wincing, Max averted his eyes. "The one about giving men some rights again... what if-"

"Hold that thought, dear," said Alexandra, bringing her shrunken servant around to her rump—just in time to absorb the full brunt of yet another fart.

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"Sorry." Pulling Max back up to eye level, Alexandra couldn't help giggling at the dazed expression on his face. "What were you saying before?"

"I..." Looking at the clock on the wall, Max sighed. "N-nothing, Mistress. You should probably put me back up there. You're going to be late."

Alexandra beamed. "Good boy." 

THE END

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