"Cyka blyat," muttered Ursa, sizing up the trio of purple-tracksuit-clad young women who'd just joined them in the shower. In keeping with every stereotype about the kinds of ladies who chose to attend Lady's Mount University, all three had to duck to get through the door.

First, there was Ariadne Santos—a black-haired, brown-eyed, tan-skinned Latina who was technically the smallest girl on the LMU wrestling team at 6'9" and 353 pounds. Now entering her senior year at the prestigious all-girls school, she'd been wiping the floor with other top athletes all over the country for eight straight semesters—although, unlike most of her teammates, she had no ego about that. In a sport that tended to over-index on domineering personalities, the curvy, musclebound tomboy was always a sweet and playful breath of fresh air at any competition—which made her the only one Ursa wasn't openly unhappy to see. 

Then, there was Brenda Fjällanvind—a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Nordic amazon who was much closer to the LMU "big bad girl" stereotype. At 6'10" and 374 pounds, the 22-year-old senior towered over most opponents in a way that often left them face-to-face with her prodigious strong-fat curves—and she never wasted an opportunity to use that to her advantage. Years of athletic excellence had trained her to view every inch of her voluptuous body — from her J-cup breasts to her couch-flattening ass — as a tool for tormenting others, and it made her a decidedly unpleasant adversary on the mat.

Finally, last but certainly not least, there was Jordana Oliveira—the 6'11", 440-pound captain of the LMU wrestling team and a titan in every sense of the word. A literal larger-than-life figure in the world of college sports, the black-haired, green-eyed, pale-skinned Brazilian senior's daunting size, eye-catching looks and supernaturally massive, infamously gassy rump commanded equal parts fear and reference wherever she went—and made her a force to be reckoned with at any wrestling meet. Of course, for Ursa, all of this was secondary to Jordana's reputation as a world-class bully—someone who made a point of toying with any opponent she deemed below her capabilities.

If these three young women were an unwelcome sight for the Siberian amazon, they were even more unnerving for the three-inch tall freshman in her hand. The prospect that there were any girls bigger than his 6'8" guardian was a deeply destabilizing discovery—let alone the fact that at least one of them was about to face off with her. How he'd fare in the depths of Ursa's ass during that match-up, he had no idea.

"'Sup, Ursa," said Jordana, locking eyes with her biggest rival and grinning. "Long time no see."

"Jordana," said Ursa, giving a curt nod of acknowledgment back. "Ariadne, Brenda."

"Yo," said Brenda, seemingly distracted by her opponent's exposed nakedness.

"Hey Ursa," said Ariadne, warm and outgoing as ever. "How's it going?"

"Is going fine," said Ursa, focusing her gaze back on the Brazilian titan. "So, you all lose your way looking for guest shower?"

"Nah," said Jordana, "just wanted to come say hi." Turning around and sticking her butt out toward her biggest rival, she grinned again. "Oh, and to do this."

BBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTT

As a suffocating wave of gas filled the already humid shower, all three Ventus wrestlers grimaced. While Ursa and Min's time in the Jock House and Daisy's time in the Loser House had given them a supernaturally high tolerance for all manner of high-grade bodily odors, a blast this powerfully noxious would have probably thrown the whole match in LMU's favor if it had been unleashed on any weaker opponents. This was another part of the Jordana legend—and she was frequently penalized at wrestling matches for working it into her finishing moves.

"Jordana!" Ariadne gasped. "Chill!"

"Damn, dude." Beside her teammates, Brenda looked like she was stifling a laugh. "That was a good one."

"What is this?" Unfazed by her rival's show of force, Ursa narrowed her eyes. "You are trying some kind of mind game? You know this does not work on me."

"Eh, worth a shot," said Jordana, glancing over at Min. "Oh, hey, Zhao. Didn't see you there."

"Hello, Jordana," said Min, crossing her arms. While she was rarely matched up with LMU's top-ranked player, the few times they'd clashed in the past had never ended well for her—and the smell of the Brazilian titan's latest fart brought back several unpleasant memories of her last defeat. 

"And who's this?" Shifting focus to Daisy, Jordana smirked. "New meat?"

"Leave her alone," said Ursa, a note of annoyance creeping into her voice. "You will not be facing her." 

"Alright, alright," said Jordana, turning back around and finally noticing the shrunken man in the Siberian amazon's cleavage. "What the... is that a..."

"Is nothing." Scowling, Ursa drew Max closer to her bosom. "You are seeing things."

"Doesn't look like nothing," said Jordana, stepping up to get a better look at Max. "What's your name, little guy?"

"M-Max?" With the giant wrestler's full attention on him, Max couldn't help shaking—even bolstered by his giant guardian's big, supple boobs.

"Hey, Ariadne," said Jordana, glancing back at her teammates. "Check this ou; they've got a shrunken guy. Just like your bro."

"Really?" Bouncing over to Ursa, the amazonian tomboy beamed. "Whoa, no way! I feel like Blaise usually ends up way smaller than this, though."

"Blaise?" Watching this exchange, Ursa perked up. "You have brother who is miniaturnyy?"

"Well... sometimes," said Ariadne, giggling. "It's complicated. One of his friends is this total whiz kid with science stuff, and she's always cooking up new inventions and testing them on him. Half of the time, they're duds, but sometimes they work..." She shrugged, gesturing toward the shrunken young man in Ursa's cleavage. "And then he ends up like this for a couple days."

Processing what this could mean, Max felt a brief, possibly irrational surge of hope. If this giant tomboy was telling the truth, maybe there was still some path for him to get back to normal.

"Sounds inconvenient," said Min. 

"Maybe a little." Ariadne shook her head, smiling. "My mom and his friends don't seem to mind, though."

"Yeah, they love it," said Jordana, taking another step toward her rival. "Say, Ursa... speaking of.... you're keeping this guy warm enough, right? Almost looks like he's shivering."

"Keeping him warm?" Again, Ursa scowled. "I-"

For Max, the next few seconds were a bit of a blur. One moment, he was nestled in the soft, sweaty embrace of his giant guardian's cleavage. Then, before Ursa could react, her rival's hand was coming toward him and pulling him up into the air. Then he was dangling over the abyss of the Brazilian titan's ass crack. Then, he was engulfed in a vast chasm—a chasm even bigger, sweatier and smellier than the one he'd just gotten a break from.

"Jordana!" Aghast at being caught so thoroughly off-guard, Ursa surged forward to grab her shrunken friend—only to find herself effortlessly kept at arm's length by the giant senior. "You give him back!"

"Hey, J," said Ariadne, crossing her arms. "C'mon. That's really not cool."

"What?" Hiking her track pants back into place, Jordana feigned innocence. "I'm just warming him up."

"Is not joke," fumed Ursa, already kicking herself for being so careless with the defenseless young man she'd sworn to protect. "He is mine."

"I can tell," said Jordana, smirking. "Never took you for the mama bear type. I guess it's right there in your name, though."

"You give him back." Again, Ursa narrowed her eyes. "Or I take him back."

"I'll think about it," Jordana scoffed. "On one condition."

"Nyet," Ursa growled. "You give him back, now."

"Or what? Are you about to try some shit?" Jordana's smirk became another grin. "Pretty sure there's rules about fighting before a match. Wouldn't want to get your team disqualified, would you?"

Recognizing the truth in the Brazilian titan's words, Ursa frowned. "What is condition?" 

"That's more like it." Jordana brought a hand back to adjust her underwear—not-so-subtly demonstrating the hold she now held over her rival's shrunken friend. "If you guys win today, you get him back. If we win, I get to keep him. Deal?"

"This is joke." Ursa's frown deepened. "Surely."

"I mean, I can just keep him, if you want." Lifting one leg for dramatic effect, Jordana winked. "Although it's a long bus ride back to Storm Valley. And I'm guessing we're gonna hit Taco Bell on the way."

BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTT

As the room filled with another cloud of noxious gas, Ursa winced—less out of personal discomfort and more out of sympathy for her three-inch friend.

Within the confines of the Brazilian titan's rump, true to her rival's suspicions, Max had entered a completely new universe of torment. Especially at this range, her farts made everything he had gone through with Ursa feel like a warmup. With his face just a few inches away from the innermost depths of her asscrack and the absolutely monstrous asshole at the center, he had nothing to breathe but her fumes—and he could feel them taking a toll in real time. Already, the question of whether he could withstand being stuck down here for a whole afternoon like this — let alone the rest of his life if Ursa, Min and Daisy lost — was taking on profound and existential implications. 

"Well?" Jordana's grin grew. "Do we have a deal?"