Getting Lucky With Lucky Shrunken First Semester chapter 3 by maximally

The figure now standing in the doorway was a chubby, grimy, almost supernaturally bottom-heavy femboy—and nearly every aspect of his appearance fit the stereotype of a Loser House Loser. His skin was pale and visibly sun-deprived, his big green eyes harbored a telltale haze of continuous weed use, his mop of greasy brown and green-highlighted hair looked like it hadn't seen the inside of a shower in weeks, and his current outfit — a black Monster Energy crop top, black and white skunk-ear beanie, skid-marked not-so-white underwear, shoeless socks and green over-ear headphones — were dotted with crusty stains of unknown origin. The only thing that set him apart from the average Proserpina resident was the pronounced bulge in his briefs and the wave of swampy, skunky musk starting to waft into the room.

"Is that…" Max grimaced. "Lucky?"

While Max had never seen Lucky Woods before today, he'd heard several stories about the Loser House's sole male resident during his first few weeks on campus. Apparently, the foul femboy had been kicked out of the Unaffiliated Students Dorm last year over several dozen "hygiene violations" — from clogging every toilet on his floor, to hotboxing his room so hard that it still smelled like a mix of weed and farts to this day — but had narrowly avoided expulsion thanks to a sizeable donation from his parents, who'd withdrawn him from the equally prestigious Greatbay Academy over similar issues the previous year. Whatever that donation was, it had been enough to make Ventus overlook the House System's historical "no boys allowed" policy and offer the Woods family's problem child a second chance in Proserpina. By all accounts, he'd been living it up in here ever since.

As Lucky shuffled through the door, bathing his cute face, curvy figure and numerous piercings in the soft, sickly light of the room's few functioning overheads, Max got an even better look at him—especially his powerful legs, big doughy butt and monstrous cock-print. From the three-inch freshman's shrunken perspective, the 5'9", 210-pound sophomore felt more like a living god than a random college undergrad—and the more he took it all in, the more he noticed a familiar but surprising stirring in his loins. While he'd never had feelings like these about another guy, it was hard to ignore the raw physical and sexual power that this particular guy exuded—even in a pair of skid-marked undies. Of course, whether Lucky was the right guy to help him out of here was a totally different matter.

Newfound funny feelings aside, Max knew he had plenty of reasons to avoid attracting Lucky's attention. Based on everything Max had heard from older residents of USD, Lucky had never been a terribly bright student—and his weed habit certainly didn't help. At the same time, he was beginning to see and smell what had inspired all those hygiene violations—and the numerous stains on the giant femboy's clothes suggested the underlying traits behind those violations had only intensified in the year since he'd moved into the Loser House. Still, he remained keen on getting all three inches of himself out of here as soon as possible—and while he understood that he could do much better in terms of a potential rescuer, he also understood that he could do a whole lot worse.

"Here goes nothing," Max muttered, doing his best to suppress the oddly instinctive fear that came with trying to provoke an interaction with someone twenty times his size. Then, taking a few steps forward on the coffee table, he started shouting, waving and jumping up and down with every ounce of energy his hungover body could muster. "HEY! LUCKY? DOWN HERE!"

By now, Lucky was just a few steps away from the coffee table—but no matter how much Max shouted, waved and jumped, he had no luck flagging him down. Utterly oblivious to the tiny scene playing out for his benefit, the giant femboy continued shuffling over to the small kitchenette on the other side of the room without hesitation. Only then did Max notice the foil-wrapped burrito in his hand and the muffled dubstep emanating from his headphones. 

"Shit," Max groaned, watching Lucky open the common room's horrifically dirty-looking communal use microwave and start unwrapping his burrito. Clearly, this guy wasn't here for him—and as long as he had those headphones going full blast, Max wasn't going to have any luck trying to call out to him.

As Lucky leaned over the kitchenette counter to heat up his breakfast, Max's only consolation prize was an even more unrestricted view of the giant femboy's equally giant butt—which had definitely benefited from a full year of sedentary Loser House living. After two semesters of nonstop junk food, ice cream and gaming, each of his huge, pale cheeks was easily the size of an exercise ball to any normal person and jiggled enticingly with even the slightest movement. Of course, they were more like mountains to Max—a thought that only inspired more stirring in his loins.

BBBRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPP

Suddenly, as if to remind Max that an ass this big wasn't just for show, Lucky let loose an absolutely colossal fart. A split second later, the shrunken freshman's perch on the coffee table was overwhelmed by a wave of warm, eggy, skunky stink—strong enough to knock him clear off his feet and send him into a full-body coughing fit. It quickly became the only thing Max could smell, taste, or even think about — stinging his eyes, burning his lungs, and making the lingering symptoms of his hangover even worse — and only served to emphasize the absurd imbalance between him and its creator. At normal size, a fart like this would have been enough to make him leave the room—but at three inches tall, it was nothing short of biblical. In the face of such overwhelming godlike power, he could only close his eyes and force himself to keep breathing.

"God damn," Lucky chuckled, retrieving his food from the microwave. "That fuckin' reeks." 

As the giant femboy turned to leave the common room, a loud grumble from his stomach made him stop. As usual, he had chosen to start the day with several bong hits before coming in here—and all of that cannabis was starting to inspire a profound case of the munchies. Looking down at the steaming burrito in his hand, he found himself increasingly reluctant to wait the additional two minutes it would take to return to his room before digging in.

"Hmm…" Taking a bite of his breakfast, Lucky scanned the room's seating options with dissatisfaction—again failing to notice Max. Even by the giant femboy's painfully-low standards, the futon and bean bag chairs were full-on petri dishes for every STD known to man. He'd seen enough people hooking up in here to know better than to risk parking his rump on any of them, and the floor was even worse. By process of elimination, this left the coffee table. 

When Max opened his eyes again, he found his field of view dominated by a giant butt—and it seemed to be getting closer and closer every second. Realizing what was happening, he went white. Lucky was about to sit down… and when he did, Max was going to be right in the middle of the action.

"LUCKY!!!" Max screamed in vain. "WAIT!!!"

As the shrunken freshman watched the giant femboy descending toward him, time seemed to slow to a crawl—Lucky's twin moons blotting out any overhead light and casting the whole coffee table into shadow. If he'd been able to pry his eyes away for even a moment, he might have had the presence of mind to scramble out of the impact zone—but he didn't. Then, all at once, he was engulfed in an avalanche of hot, soft, sweaty flesh. 

"There we go," said Lucky, shifting his hips to get comfortable on the table and earning several creaks from the cheap wooden frame. 

With every one of these adjustments, Max felt himself getting buried deeper and deeper between the giant femboy's cheeks—with only a thin layer of fraying fabric between him and Lucky's profoundly unwashed dick, balls and asshole. As he tried to process the reality of his new conditions, feeling Lucky's pucker starting to pucker up through his underwear, his mind was reeling. This day just kept getting worse.

BBBBBRRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

When Lucky let loose again, Max took the brunt of the blast head-on—and the resulting wave of stink was even bigger and skunkier than the last. While the giant femboy's previous release had made Max feel like he was going to vomit, this one made him feel like he was on the verge of something much more existentially worrisome. Was this where it would all end for him? Trapped under the smelliest guy in the Loser House, thoughtlessly snuffed out by a fart? Fortunately, or unfortunately, he didn't have to dwell on these thoughts for long before he blacked out.

*

When Max finally regained consciousness, he had no idea how much time had passed. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was still trapped in Lucky's crack—and to make matters even worse, he'd seemingly slipped through one of the holes in the giant femboy's underwear. This much was clear from the fact that he woke up with a face full of his unaware captor's massive, filthy asshole. How he'd managed to stay down here like this without Lucky noticing him, he wasn't sure. Still, somehow, against all odds, he remained alive. The only question now was how he'd choose to play the hand he'd just been dealt.