Sore Winner Shrunken First Semester chapter 14 by maximally

For everyone watching, the sight of the two wrestlers going at it was absolutely exhilarating—a thunderous clash of muscle, sweat, and raw, indomitable will. For the shrunken freshman in the back of Jordana's leotard, things were considerably less pleasant. 

Even after a full day with Ursa, Max found his current conditions uniquely oppressive. Trapped as he was in the suffocating canyon of Jordana's ass crack, it was all he could do to struggle against the slick, clenching embrace of her asshole as she attempted to force her rival — the first true friend Max had made during his first month at Ventus — into submission. The air was thick with the sour tang of her sweat and butt funk, the heat radiating from her puckered starfish was overpowering, and whenever her cheeks clapped together as she changed positions, it was like an earthquake of booty.

"You fight harder when you're distracted, huh?" Jordana purred, brushing her lips against Ursa's ear. "Good." 

brrrrttttttttttt

As the Brazilian titan let loose a silent-but-deadly fart into her tiny captor's face, the warm, humid blast quickly trickled down to Ursa—giving her a stinky reminder of everything she'd failed to protect her friend from. Taking a deep breath in and summoning every ounce of energy at her disposal, she met her opponent's gaze with renewed determination. If she wanted to atone for her mistake and save Max from a life of certain misery, she knew it was now or never.

"The only one who farts on him," she growled, lifting Jordana into the air and throwing her to the floor. "...Is me!" 

Blindsided by this sudden surge of energy, the Brazilian titan tumbled backward onto the mat with a thunderous thud—and before she had any time to recover, her rival was already leaping up to press her advantage. Burying the cocky wrestler's face between her cheeks like a Sybian, pressing Jordana's lips flush against her steamy crack, Ursa proceeded to give the big bully a taste of her own medicine. 

BBBRRRAAAAAAPPP

BBBRRRAAAAAAAPPPPP

BBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPP

With her whole head caught under the Siberian amazon's ass, Jordana had no choice but to sit there and accept the barrage of protein shake farts that followed, each blast hotter and thicker than the last. After spending most of her life surrounded by similarly big, gassy women, she had a higher tolerance for this kind of treatment than most—but even she had to acknowledge that Ursa's gas was no joke. It had been a while since she'd been on the receiving end of this kind of move. 

"Gah," she gagged, forcing her hulking opponent off of her, her cheeks flushed with humiliation and an unwelcome thrill, "that reeks!" 

"Spasiba," said Ursa, smiling. "I made myself." 

Now visibly mad, the 6'11" senior lunged for the 6'8" sophomore again—only to realize she'd set herself up to get caught in another humiliating pin. A split-second later, her head was trapped squarely between Ursa's legs—with her face buried in the damp, musky heat of her rival's big, sweaty, swampy crotch. 

BBLLOOOAAAAARRRTTTTTTT 

"Mmm," Ursa grunted, filling her opponent's lungs with more fumes, her thighs tensing to grind Jordana's nose against her slick folds. While she'd never thought of her opponent in anything like sexual terms, it was hard to ignore how the good the huge senior's struggles felt beneath her—even after a long night of losing her virginity to Min. "How is this? You like?" 

"Y-you wish," Jordana groaned, just barely managing to free herself again before attempting to grapple her rival back into submission. 

Unfortunately, this time, the Brazilian titan got a much more workable hold—pressing Ursa's face into her considerable cleavage and slamming herself down on top of her. Watching this, the crowd winced. At this rate, the two amazons were going to leave several cracks in the wrestling room floor. 

"That's better," Jordana whispered, grinning. "Now, tap out... or I'm turning your friend into a post-game snack." 

Imagining Jordana acting on this threat, Ursa hesitated just long enough to give her opponent a window to change positions—a window Jordana wasted no time seizing. Shifting her hips and positioning her immense rump right over the Siberian amazon's head, the Brazilian titan brought all the weight at her disposal down on her rival with a sickening crunch. Hearing the impact all the way from the bleachers, the crowd winced again.

"Good girl," Jordana crooned, spreading her cheeks and grinding her asshole right up against Ursa's scowling lips. "Now, hold still. This won't hurt... much." 

BBBBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPP

For Max, Ursa, and everyone else present, Jordana's fart was nothing short of a biological weapon—a wave of stink that tore through the whole gym like a warm, eggy hurricane. The front row of spectators recoiled, gagging into their sleeves, and Ursa's body jerked violently. Beneath Jordana's ass, Max was in an even more acute state of torment, his tiny chest heaving, every breath searing his throat with the acrid stench of rotten eggs and protein shakes. Jordana's asshole pulsed inches from his face, a wrinkled, quivering maw glistening with sweat and worse, its rhythmic contractions threatening to suck him into the toxic abyss. The idea of being trapped next to this horrid orifice for the rest of his life made Max feel genuinely terrified—a fear that only got worse when he heard the unmistakable sound of the ref's whistle.  

"LMU wins!" 

As the small contingent of Lady's Mount supporters in the crowd began to cheer, Jordana triumphantly stood up and offered a smug nod to everyone else in attendance. Beneath her, Ursa lay motionless, chest heaving and fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. While the game-winning wrestler from LMU sauntered over to celebrate with her teammates, Min and Daisy rushed over to the Siberian amazon's side, their voices a distant buzz as they helped her sit up. Naturally, Ursa's gaze stayed locked on Jordana—and the tiny young man she knew was still trapped in her rival's rump. 

"Next time," said Ursa, her face still glistening with Jordana's booty sweat. "Next time, I win. I win him back from you." 

"Yeah right," Jordana chuckled, giving her ass a slap for good measure. "A deal's a deal. Your little buddy's mine now." 

Hearing this from his perch in the Brazilian amazon's ass, Max grimaced.

*

After a thoroughly humiliating medal ceremony — which largely consisted of Jordana taunting Ursa, Min, Daisy and Paula by twerking at the podium — the LMU team returned to the locker room to get ready to leave. The only one who lingered to connect with the ladies of Ventus was Ariadne, who took Ursa aside for a moment by the wresting room door. "I'll... try to talk to her," she said, offering the still thoroughly defeated Siberian Amazon a sympathetic frown. "Sorry it ended up going like this." 

Meanwhile, back in the crack of Jordana's ass, Max wasn't getting any closer to coming to terms with his new circumstances—and as his new mistress sat down to get changed, he found himself forced even more uncomfortably up against her big, rancid pucker, the walls of her rectum clenching around him like a hungry mouth.  

"You having fun in there, little guy?" Jordana cooed, clearly enjoying Max's struggles. "I hope so." 

BBBRRRRAAAAAPPPPT 

As she blasted the shrunken freshman with another fart, he let out a long, low groan. This fart was just as bad as all the others she'd cut in his face in the last few hours, and all of his constant exposure wasn't making them smell any better. Apparently, this was his life now. 

"Man..." Jordana sighed contentedly, rubbing her ass idly against the bench. "I could really get used to this."  

"J, come on." Stepping into the locker room, Ariadne immediately plugged her nose and shot her teammate a disapproving glare. "At least let the guy breathe." 

"Breathing's overrated," Jordana said, standing to peel off her leotard—and unintentionally giving her shrunken captive a brief moment of fresh air. As Max tumbled onto the bench, dizzy and drenched, he only had a second to himself before he was snatched up by Brenda's manicured fingers.

"Look at him!" The Nordic amazon giggled, dangling Max over her plunging cleavage. "Like a little stress toy." 

"Don't get any funny ideas," Jordana warned, snatching him back. "He's mine." 

Max's vision swam as Jordana proceeded to stuff him into her gym bag, his world reduced to the cloying stench of dirty socks and stale energy bars. At this point, there was no denying reality any longer. Whether he liked it or not, he was now going to be stuck with this woman forever. Somewhere above, the girls debated Taco Bell orders. 

"—extra beans on my Crunchwrap," Jordana said, zipping her gym bag shut. "Gotta keep my protein up." 

As Max felt his new enclosure moving, doubtlessly back to the LMU bus, he curled into a ball, stomach churning. The bus ride, the beans, Jordana's merciless bowels—it was a trifecta of doom. Hearing an engine rumbling to life, he closed his eyes and whimpered. Already, some part of him couldn't shake the feeling that he was never going to see Ursa, Min, or anyone else at Ventus ever again.