Goddess Theory Shrunken First Semester chapter 22 by maximally

Watching Victoria scan through the stack of reference texts on the coffee table, Max couldn't help wincing again. He was already regretting coming in here—and knew he should have known better than assuming his psychology professor would do anything to pump the brakes on his stepmother's usual habits. Now, rather than helping him cope with the continued indignity of being three inches tall in any meaningful way, the Indian amazon seemed poised to subject him to a level of torment even more humiliating than rubbing her feet—and the worst part was, she appeared to be earnestly convinced this was all for his own good.

"That's interesting." Victoria pointed toward the cover of An Introduction to Goddess Theory. "A couple of my daughter's friends did a book club around this one last summer." 

"Ah, yes." Riya nodded. "My daughter Kali is a big fan, too. It's very popular with girls her age these days."

Recognizing this name and finally making the connection between the two Indian amazons, Max swallowed hard. While he'd never met Kali, he'd heard plenty of stories about the infamous senior during his orientation. By all accounts, she'd been the single biggest, meanest girl in the Goth House for four straight years and was nothing short of a campus boogeywoman to every male undergrad with a pulse. 

"I didn't know you had kids," said Victoria. "How old is your daughter?"

"Kali's twenty-one," said Riya. "Just started her senior year here, actually. I've also got a nineteen-year-old sophomore named Ravi, and a twenty-five-year-old named Sunil..." She trailed off, pursing her lips. 

"Something wrong?" Victoria frowned. 

"No, not really. I just don't hear too much from my oldest these days. I'm sure you know how it is." The Indian amazon glanced back at the coffee table. "Anyway... Goddess Theory... I guess the best way to describe it would be a school of feminism. Although I'm sure about half of the professors in our sociology and gender studies departments would disagree with me on that."

"Why's that?" Victoria's frown became an intrigued smirk. "It's controversial?"

"Very," said Riya. "Basically, if feminism is about making men and women equal, Goddess Theory takes things... at least fifty or sixty steps further. According to this book, men are meant to be totally subservient to women, with no real personhood of their own. And all of the world's problems come from that 'natural order' being out of balance."

"Huh," said Victoria, her smirk growing. "I think they might be onto something."

"Oh," said Riya, "don't get me wrong, I see the appeal. Especially whenever I have to talk to my ex-husband." The mature amazons shared a laugh. "As you can imagine, it's not a popular theory with men. Plus, all the major works on the subject are at least a hundred years old, and most of the big early proponents were back around the suffrage era. Including the lady who founded this school, funnily enough."

"Like, the Miss Ventus?" Victoria sat up a little in her chair. "No kidding."

"Yeah. So, up until ten or twenty years ago, it was pretty niche." Wiping her hand across the cover of the book in question, Riya dislodged a significant quantity of dust. "It seems like a lot more women are starting to get into it now because of the internet, though."

"Makes sense," said Victoria, eyeing the book's elaborate cover art—a mix of gothic lettering and embossed images of female backsides and feet. "And you think it might help Max feel a little more comfortable around me?"

"Well, they've got exercises for just about every kind of mixed-sex relationship in here." Leaning even further over the coffee table, Riya cracked the book open and leafed through a few pages to refresh her memory. "Ah! Here we go. 'Section One: Mothers and Sons.'"

"Does they have anything for stepmothers and stepsons?" Victoria shot a playful look at Max, still caught between her and their professor on the coffee table.

"I'm sure most of this stuff should still work just fine," Riya chuckled, flipping further through the book. "Although we can probably skip all the exercises involving breast-feeding."

"Exercises, plural?" Noticing how much Riya's comment was making her stepson blush, Victoria grinned. "What do you think, Max? You hungry?"

"I-I'm good, thanks." Struggling to shake off the unwelcome, frustratingly arousing thoughts suddenly clouding his mind — and the fact that he could now see his stepmother's dime-sized nipples getting harder through the thin fabric of her tank top in real time — Max could only sigh.

"Alright," said his stepmother, adjusting her shirt. "Your loss. What else have they got in there?"

"Well... how about this?" Pulling the book off the table, the Indian amazon presented a full-page spread to her two students. Scanning its contents, Max went white.

Below the heading "Posterior Worship," the authors had included a half-dozen etchings of a large, curvy woman and a comparatively small, scrawny man—and while Max couldn't read the text, the progression of events depicted was painfully clear. Over six illustrations, the man approached the woman, bowed toward her ass, crawled up to it on his hands and knees, kissed each cheek, and then, finally, pressed his entire face up into her crack. On the adjoining page, a final follow-up panel seemed to show the woman mid-orgasm with her diminutive partner crushed beneath her.

"'This is an excellent exercise for mothers with rebellious sons,'" Riya read. "'Or any woman who seeks a more obedient and submissive male companion. Practitioners should note that excessive repetition may 'break' the male partner's constitution..." Riya's smirk returned. "'...rendering them unsuited for life without the assistance of a female guardian.'"

Hearing this, Max grimaced. As much as he wanted to believe that the century-old exercises in this dusty book didn't stand any serious chance of 'breaking' him, he wasn't particularly keen to get any clarification on that. Meanwhile, his stepmother was grinning ear to ear.

"Sold," said Victoria. "Especially that last part."

"I had a feeling you'd say that," said Riya, nodding. "In the text they say that you should do this exercise naked, but I can understand if you'd prefer to keep-"

"Way ahead of you." Already standing up and turning around, Victoria peeled off her booty shorts and underwear, letting her majestic lower half hang loose in all its glory. Watching his stepmom's cheeks hanging over him again like a pair of big, jiggly boulders, Max was equally entranced and terrified. 

"Alright then," said Riya, unable to keep her eyes from wandering down to the Mexican MILF's rump. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, why don't you sit down right there on the coffee table next to Max. And don't worry, it's reinforced."

"Almost sounds like you've done this before." Settling her mountainous ass on the table, Victoria grinned again. "I thought you said this wasn't your usual area."

"Not professionally," said Riya, grinning back. "But, personally? That's another story."

As the mature amazons shared another laugh, Max glanced up at his stepmother's ass with trepidation. "C-can I say something?"

"Hmm?" Looking up from the book, Riya smiled warmly. "Of course, by all means."

"If the point of this exercise is to make me want to go up Victoria's... well, you know..." Ignoring the sheer absurdity of everything he was about to propose, Max shrugged. "Couldn't she just, like, put me back up there and skip the setup?"

"What did I tell you?" Victoria's grin grew. "He's obsessed!"

"Your stepmother and I both appreciate your enthusiasm, Max," said Riya. "But that's not what this exercise is really about. What I'm hearing right now is, you want to go back up there to escape from your current reality. And what we're trying to do right now is help you feel a little more comfortable with it."

"B-by making me worship my stepmom's butt?" Max took a step back, crossing his arms.

"Well, yes." Riya's tone was motherly and reassuring—well accustomed to talking people through complicated feelings. "Look, no one's saying you aren't enjoying this at a conscious level. This exercise is all about breaking down your unconscious barriers."

"Got it," said Max, who was not enjoying this on any level but could tell he didn't have any room to say as much.

"Good." Looking down at the book again, the Indian amazon pulled out a pair of reading glasses and slipped them on. "Now, to start, I'd like you to take a few steps forward and kneel."

"C'mon, sweetie," said Victoria, wiggling her hips and making the whole coffee table creak. "I'll make it worth your while later if you play along."

"O-okay," said Max, shoulders slumping. Unable to resist the combined pressure that the two mature amazons were now putting on him, he took several tentative steps toward the crack of his stepmom's ass and settled into a half-sitting position. From here, there was something undeniably awe-inspiring about the way Victoria's rump loomed over him—but it certainly didn't fill him with anything like religious reverence.

"Now," said Riya. "Repeat after me. 'Mother. I exist to serve you. You are my Goddess. Everything I am is an extension of you.'"

Against his better judgment, overridden by his desire to simply get this whole thing over with as quickly as possible, Max obeyed. "Mother," he muttered, "I exist to serve you. You are my goddess. Everything I am is an extension of you."

"Aww," Victoria cooed, turning back toward Riya. "You know, I've been trying to get him to call me Mom for years. It'd be funny if this was the thing that finally got him over the hump."

"I guess you'll just have to keep seeing me to find out," said Riya, sharing an amused look with her oldest student before returning her attention to Max. "Now, repeat after me again: 'Mother, please permit me to worship your posterior, so that I might prove my devotion to you.'"

"Mother," Max muttered. "Please permit me to worship your-"

BBRRRAAAAAAPPPPPPP

As Max tried to finish his line, Victoria's rump opened up to expel an especially unwelcome wave of hot, swampy stink. Even after absorbing at least several hundred such farts over the last few days, the shrunken freshman caught in the center of the blast zone found this one to be just as unpleasant as all the rest.

"Whew!" Victoria giggled, watching her stepson collapse onto the coffee table behind her. "Sorry, sweetie. That one just slipped out."

"There's no apologizing in here," said Riya, who seemed totally unfazed by her oldest student's toot. "Besides, it's perfectly natural."

"A woman after my own heart," said Victoria. "Anyway, Max, you were saying?"

"P-please permit me to worship your posterior." Max choked, struggling to get out the words through the acrid haze of his stepmom's gas. "S-so that I might prove my devotion to you."

"Your goddess allows it," said Victoria, lowering her voice to affect a tone of godlike detachment. "Approach, puny mortal."

"Next..." Riya tapped the fourth diagram on the page. "I want you to crawl up to your stepmom's butt. And then there's another line for you: 'Mother, please permit me to kiss your posterior so that I might prove my dedication to you.'"

"O-okay." Still on hands and knees, Max shuffled a few more paces forward, stumbling up against Victoria's right buttock like a huge, smooth wall of caramel-colored flesh. "M-mother, please permit me to kiss your posterior so that I might prove my dedication to you."

"Please do," Victoria chuckled. 

Spurred on by his stepmother — and doing his best to swallow his own pride — Max pressed his lips against her right cheek before crawling over and doing the same to her left. All around him, the air still smelled like rotten eggs and domination.

"Good job, Max," said Riya, observing with similar interest. "Now for the hard part. Tori, you might want to spread 'em a little to make this easier for him... they wrote this thing before shrinking serum was invented." Looking back at Max, she offered another warm smile. "Once your stepmom is ready for you, I want you to crawl up between her cheeks and press your lips right up against her anus."

"Her... what?" Again, Max winced. "Is that really what the book says?"

"Yes, it is," said Riya, glancing back down at the page. "Oh! You know what? You're right. There's one more line. Before you get in there, repeat after me: 'Mother, permit me one last kiss so that I might prove my love for you.'"

Above him, he could hear his stepmother stifling a laugh. "Sorry," Victoria chuckled. "I know it's supposed to be serious, but..."

"I know," said Riya, shaking her head and smirking again. "The language is a little outdated. Anyway... Max?"

"Yeah," said Max, suppressing the urge to groan. "Mother, permit me one last kiss so that I might prove my love for you."

"Permission granted." Spreading her cheeks to clear the way for Max's big close-up, Victoria seemed to be having the time of her life. "Ready when you are, Romeo." 

"Okay." Again, Max sighed. Then, crawling forward up into his stepmom's ass, he willingly fed himself into the soft, smothering abyss of her crack. As he felt her immense weight bearing down on him after another long and humiliating day out in the open, the wave of strange relief that followed was undeniable. A moment later, without even thinking, he'd already honed in on her asshole—and he didn't hesitate for a second before planting his lips right up against it. Was this Riya's 'conditioning' talking? Or something else? In any case, whether he liked it or not, it felt worrisomely good to be back here again.

"Mmm," Victoria purred, flexing her hole against her stepson's face. "That's what I'm talking about. How'd we do?"

"Very good," said Riya, wiggling her eyebrows. "Although, technically, the exercise isn't complete until you both orgasm..."