Crude Awakening Shrunken First Semester chapter 18 by maximally

When Max woke up, he was trapped in a vast canyon of warm, stinky flesh. All he could feel was smothering softness, all he could hear was muffled snoring, and all he could smell — and taste — was raw, vinegary sweat. As the sheer sensory overload of it all washed over him, he grimaced—trying to identify which specific canyon of warm, stinky flesh he was currently trapped in. By now, nearly one week into life at three inches tall, it didn't take him long to figure it out.

After his first 48 hours in the Loser House — being found and "claimed" by Daisy, getting press-ganged into service as a sex toy for the chubby ogress and her neighbor-turned-girlfriend Hazel, and then ending up as the centerpiece of a day-long orgy with several other similarly foul female gooners — he had assumed that things would quiet down a little during the school week. Unfortunately, he couldn't have been more wrong. Between Daisy's insatiable libido, Hazel's endless "experiments" (most of which seemed to involve her butt, feet, and various bodily functions) and frustratingly-frequent visits from Summer, Autumn, Winter and Sofia, his only moments alone had come at times like this—early in the morning or late at night, buried under his giant guardian, waiting for the next wave of unintentional torment to hit. 

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As a thunderous fart echoed through the room, Max instinctively winced—then, noticing that the air around him wasn't getting any eggier, allowed himself a sigh of relief. Between this and the significant quantity of wiry hair brushing up against him, he now had all the evidence he needed to conclude that he had woken up in Daisy's armpit. Not that this gave him anything to be excited about. While it spared him the indignity and discomfort of being face-to-face with the supernaturally heavyset junior's asshole, it was still quite claustrophobic and unpleasant. 

Twisting his body and putting both his hands against the walls of flesh pressing down on him, Max began to push with all his might—but as a three-inch-tall man trying to raise the arm of a 6'4", 350-pound woman, he quickly realized that it was no use. All he got for his efforts was a huge bead of warm, salty sweat that dropped into his face as if to remind him to know his place.  

"D-Daisy," he sputtered, hopelessly muffled by the suffocating confines of the chubby ogress's underarm. "W-wake up!"

Above him, Daisy continued snoring soundly. Again, Max grimaced. While the shrinking serum he'd been dosed with had made him much more resilient in situations like these, it hadn't changed his desire to be subjected to this kind of degradation for any longer than necessary. Now, if he wanted to get out of here, he knew that he was going to have to get creative. 

"Fuck it," he groaned. Then, summoning every ounce of courage at his disposal, he pressed his lips to Daisy's armpit and started licking. The taste was immediate and vile—a mix of salt, yeast, and unwashed humanity that made his stomach lurch. But he didn't stop. He lapped at her furiously, tiny tongue flicking over every pore, every crease, hoping the sensation would cut through her coma-like slumber. It had worked before.

"Mmmphf…!" A second later, sure enough, Daisy jolted awake—and as her arm jerked away from her torso, Max was sent tumbling onto the mattress. He landed face-first in a damp crater between her hip and the bed, a swampy no-man's-land of butt sweat and Dorito crumbs, gasping for breath but finally free. For now, at least.

"Ohmygosh—Max!" Daisy blinked, her cheeks flushing as she picked up her shrunken friend and brought him to eye level. "W-were you just…"

"In your armpit? Yeah." Max coughed, wiping a bead of pit slime from his face. "Again."

"Sorry..." Daisy facepalmed sheepishly, her G-cup breasts jiggling beneath her stained tank top. "I dunno how you keep ending up down there."

"It's fine," Max sighed, too exhausted to be angry. "Just—"

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Before Max could say more, he was cut off by another fart — this one much bigger and wetter than the last — followed by a muffled giggle from Hazel. Despite the sheer force of her latest emission, the buck-toothed genius still appeared to be fast asleep on the other side of Daisy's bed—sprawled facedown, her polka-dot sweatpants around her ankles and her big, flabby, pimpled ass aimed squarely in her new girlfriend's direction. 

"Mmm…" Hazel mumbled, grinding her hips into a body pillow of Shadow the Hedgehog she'd brought from her own room. "You gotta keep your mouth open for this next one, miniguy..."

As Daisy and Max looked back at each other, they couldn't help sharing a laugh.

"And you wonder why I don't like being alone with her," said Max, shaking his head.

"Aww, c'mon. She's harmless." Daisy smiled. "Mostly."

"I'll take your word for it." As the smell of Hazel's first release of the morning finally made its way to Max's perch on Daisy's hand, he had to resist the urge to gag. "Man… what did you guys eat last night?" 

"Mostly Indian food," said Daisy, almost sounding a little proud of her new girlfriend. "Here… want me to clean you off?"

"Sure," said Max, smiling back in spite of himself. "Sounds good."

As Hazel continued sleep-humping the pillow beside them, Daisy pressed her lips to Max's tiny frame for a slobbery kiss—her tongue lashing his face with the same vigor she'd used to clean nacho cheese off her fingers last night. The taste was a nauseating cocktail of sleep gunk and sour spit, but Max leaned into it anyway, allowing the chubby ogress to do her thing and coax a quick but satisfying orgasm out of him. The fact that he'd met a girl his own age who was willing to wake him up most mornings with a full-body blowjob was still a lot to get his head around—almost as much as the whole "being three inches tall" thing.

Amid all the chaos of the past week, moments like these had given him a lot of solace. Daisy's surprisingly soft laughter when he beat her at Smash Bros. The way she'd hold him against her chest during scary movie nights, her heartbeat steady against his back. And, of course, all the sex. He wasn't sure how to process his feelings about her—or whether those feelings were informed by fear, gratitude, or something like Stockholm Syndrome. Whatever it was, though, one thing seemed increasingly clear—out of all the slobby, dysfunctional weirdos in the Loser House, he'd somehow ended up with the one girl least likely to turn him into a butt plug or a quick snack. 

"There we go," said Daisy, flopping onto her back, peeling Max out of her mouth and settling him on her chest. "Better?"

"Yeah," said Max, slightly dizzy with afterglow. "Thanks."

"Anytime." Daisy's smile returned. "You know, we've still got half an hour before class if—"

Before the chubby ogress could finish asking her shrunken friend if he'd be willing to help her tend to her own needs, she heard a buzz from her phone on the nightstand beside them—and as she glanced over at the screen, her breath hitched. "Huh," she said, unlocking the screen and scanning the text. The further she got into the message, the more she felt her gut starting to churn—a low, bassy growl that reverberated through the mattress. “That’s… uh oh…” 

"What does it say?" Nestled in the sweaty canyon of Daisy's cleavage, Max craned his neck to read the text on her screen.

"They're making me go back to class," Daisy whispered, her voice trembling. "In person. Starting today."

"Oh," Max breathed. Back on Monday, he'd learned that Daisy took all of her classes remotely—having worked out a deal with the school administration to accommodate her social anxiety and various body odor problems. This explained why he'd never seen her around campus before last Saturday and was one of the reasons she made a surprisingly good guardian for him. By fairly logical extension, her lack of exposure to the world beyond the Loser House limited her exposure to other students who might seek to take him away from her... but the change of policy outlined in this morning's email inspired no shortage of immediate and pressing questions about how his life would continue to change from here. "Shit."

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A nervous fart ripped out of Daisy's rump, hot and spicy, blasting Max with another gust of eggy decay. He gagged, shielding his face with his arms as Daisy winced.

"S-sorry!" She sighed, hastily fanning her hand over her chest. "Man... this is just... what are we gonna do?"

"Relax, D. You'll be fine." Hazel's groggy voice cut through the tension as she rolled over, idly fingering herself. "What's the worst that could happen? You hotbox a couple classrooms and give a bunch of normies a fart fetish?"

Daisy shot her girlfriend a frustrated look. "This isn't funny, Hazel. You know how people talk about me out there…" Glancing down at the shrunken freshman in her cleavage, she looked like she was on the verge of tears. "And what about Max?"

"I mean, I could watch him," Hazel offered, sitting up too fast and nearly toppling off the bed. "C'mon, D. You know I've been dying to run some real tests on him." Her eyes flicked to Max, and a slow, wolfish grin spread across her face. "Y'know… for science."

Max's stomach dropped. The way Hazel's tongue darted over her buckteeth, the hungry glint in her eyes, and the growing intensity of the hand down her sweatpants—it was the same look she'd had before shoving him up Daisy's ass during last Sunday's orgy.

"Hazel," Daisy growled, shielding Max with her hand. "I'm serious."

"Fine, fine." Hazel rolled her eyes, flopping back onto the bed. "If you leave him with me, I promise I'll give him back in one piece. Scout's honor." She crossed her heart with a slime-covered finger.

Daisy hesitated, her gaze drifting down to Max. He looked so small against her palm—tiny, vulnerable, and entirely her responsibility. "Max… what do you want to do?" She bit her lip. "I mean, you can come with me if you're cool with riding backseat. Just to make sure no one sees you."

The shrunken freshman swallowed hard. The thought of spending the day mashed against Daisy's unwashed ass, subjected to her anxiety farts and flop sweat, was hardly appealing. But the alternative — Hazel's "experiments" — wasn't any better.