Putting the "Ass" in "Class" Shrunken First Semester chapter 19 by maximally

"I think I'll just stick with Daisy," said Max, avoiding Hazel's predatory grin. The buck-toothed genius's fingers twitched toward him instinctively, her greasy lips curling in disappointment. Even half-asleep and mid-masturbation session, Hazel's hunger for experimentation was worrisomely un-subtle—and as he felt Daisy tightening her grip around him, he couldn't help letting out another little sigh of relief. 

"Whatever," Hazel scoffed, rolling her eyes and settling back onto the cum-stained mattress to resume rubbing one out. The bedsprings groaned as she spread her legs wider, giving Max a worrisomely-clear view of her big, hungry, bushy pussy. "I don't think you know what you're missing, but that's just one genius's opinion."

Prrraaaaaappppp

Hazel punctuated her statement with another conspicuously wet, eggy fart directly into the body pillow beneath her, flaring her nostrils to savor the results. When the smell made its way over to Max — a nose-searing blend of sulfur, rotting eggs, and hot garbage — it was just the push he needed to finish making up his mind.

"I'm good," he said, returning his attention to Daisy. "Really."

"Cool," said Daisy, chubby cheeks lighting up as she squeezed him against her chest. "Good choice."

Feeling Daisy's big, pillowy boobs smothering him in familiar, refreshingly non-shit-scented softness, Max felt compelled to speak again. "One thing, though, before we go…" He wriggled upward, his tiny body already slick with her cleavage sweat. "Do I really have to go up your ass for the whole day? Couldn't I just stay in here?" He gestured weakly at the sticky valley of her chest, where crumbs from last night's dinner still lay nestled in the folds of her skin.

"Well…" Daisy pursed her full lips, her gaze darting to a peeling Kingdom Hearts poster on the wall. "I'd just be super worried about people seeing you in there, is all." As absurd as her logic seemed, her tone suggested genuine concern. "I mean, the last thing either of us wants is for some Juno girl to see you like this, right?"

"Right," said Max, nodding in spite of himself. From what he'd gleaned of the Goth House's proclivities for shrinking and torturing young men like him over the last week, he had no interest in getting on their radar. "I guess that makes sense. But couldn't you just put a sweater on or something?"

"Hmm..." Daisy hesitated, nervously picking at a dried stain on her shirt. "I mean, for one, I'd get super sweaty... Plus... well..."

"What my big, sexy girlfriend is too insecure to say," said Hazel, still rubbing herself silly. "Is that she likes having you back there. Mostly 'cause you make such a good fart filter."

Max scowled. "A fart filter?"

A sudden redness bloomed across Daisy's face, confirming that the buck-toothed gooner was telling the truth. 

"See?" Slowing the pace of her fingers, Hazel licked her lips again. "You and I both know that nothing makes her gassier than social situations. But if she's got you back there, she doesn't have to worry about stinking up the joint for everyone else." She chuckled. "Well, not as much, anyway."

"Oh," said Max, feeling less confident in his decision by the second. "Gotcha…"

"It's really mostly about keeping you safe from girls like Kali," said Daisy, shuddering as she invoked the infamous undergrad ringleader of the Goth House. "But, yeah. There's also that. You don't mind, do you?" She paused for a moment again, cracking a sly smile. "I mean… after everything we've done together…"

Now it was Max's turn to shudder, thinking back to all of the steamy ass-eating sessions his giant guardian had coaxed him into since Saturday. The way her asshole pulsed around his face when she came. The sticky strands of anal mucus that always got stuck in his hair. The time she'd fallen asleep mid-ride, leaving him trapped under her rump for six hours while Hazel snored beside them. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy these moments — especially since she always made it worth his while with at least one full-body blowjob or similar treat — but he wasn't sure how he felt about the idea that she was starting to get the impression that he actually enjoyed her gas. For Max, Daisy's various odors were just the cost of the situation he'd ended up in—not a benefit. 

"D," said Hazel, eyeing her phone—still opened to a random Rule 34 comic she'd been gooning to the previous night. "You know it's almost nine, right?"

"Is it?" Daisy winced, her gut letting out another cavernous gurgle that vibrated through her sweatpants. Max felt it firsthand, the walls of her intestines churning against his back like a living, stinking earthquake. "Shit!" Glancing back down at Max, her face grew more desperate than ever. "Max, please? For me? I'll make it up to you later, I promise."

With no other apparent choice — aside from getting stuck with Hazel — Max forced his head to nod. "I-… sure. Okay."

"Thank you," Daisy breathed, finally rolling out of bed and squeezing her elephantine curves into the same pair of sweatpants and ratty shirt she'd been wearing all week. "Alright, here goes."

In one practiced motion, Daisy plucked Max out of her cleavage with one hand and peeled apart her sweatpants' waistband with the other, giving her shrunken ward a preview of his prison for the next eight hours—a landscape of greasy flesh, wiry black hairs, and the puckered, unwashed starfish he'd come to know so intimately over the last week. "S-sorry it's… uh… extra stinky back there," she mumbled, her cheeks flushing again. "That Indian food's really doing a number on me for some reason."

From where Max currently stood, he didn't need any reminders about that. The air was thick enough to chew. But before he could offer any final second thoughts, Daisy's fingers began pressing him down into her crack. As her sweatpants snapped shut and her cheeks clamped down around him — big, heavy, and oddly comforting — her asshole greeted him with a slimy, eager kiss.

"Mmm…" Daisy's voice echoed all around him, muffled but unmistakably sheepish, and her hands lingered on her ass—giving the left cheek a firm squeeze that squished him even more perilously against her rectum. "Alright, you ready?"

"Yeah," Max gagged, his nose buried in a swamp of dried fecal matter and fresh anal mucus. "Ready as I'm gonna be."

*

As Daisy waddled out of the Loser House, pulverizing Max even deeper between her cheeks with every step, the few glimpses she got of her neighbors only served to taunt her. Behind the door across the hall, she could hear the rhythmic slapping of flesh and a chorus of guttural moaning—Summer, Autumn, and Winter were starting their day early. Another door hung ajar, revealing Sofia passed out facedown on a mountain of Dorito bags, her booty shorts hiked up to showcase a skid-marked thong. Further down the hall, a few sticky coughs suggested that Lucky — the dorm's sole male resident and the single foulest femboy at Ventus — was already at least one bowl deep in his customary wake and bake. The reek of weed and unwashed ballsack lingered in the air, mixing with Daisy's own contributions to the hallway's aroma.

"Why me?" Daisy sighed, her thighs chafing as she lumbered on toward the dorm's main entrance. "Why's everyone else allowed to stay home?"

Beneath her, fighting off the predictably eager advances of his giant guardian's asshole, Max lacked the energy to consider any answer.

While the Loser House's central air system had been busted for years, it had been a while since Daisy had been subjected to the full force of the Southern California sun—and as she took her first few tentative steps out of the Loser House, she could already feel herself getting sweatier than ever. From here, Ventus's campus sprawled before her — manicured lawns, picturesque palm trees waving in the breeze, sleek academic buildings and other dorms, and hordes of students milling between classes — and while she'd first set eyes on this same vista two years ago with a mix of awe and anticipation, now it only served to heighten her mounting feelings of anxiety. "You've got this," she muttered, more to herself than Max.

By the time Daisy had passed the student center and onto the school's central quad, her sweatpants sported several dark patches of sweat—turning her shrunken ward's perch in her panties into the world's swampiest sauna. Beads of perspiration rolled down her crack with frustrating frequency, drowning him in salty brine as her asshole continued pulsing against his face, doubtlessly preparing for all the nervous farts she was going to squeak out in class. Meanwhile, outside, the giant junior's unmistakable figure and equally unmistakable odors were starting to turn heads. A group of Diana wrestlers looked genuinely impressed. So did several Juno Goths. At least one delicate little Fortuna influencer had straight-up fainted, and a few others were already filming reaction videos on their phones. 

"Holy shit, is that Buttzilla?!"

"Jesus Christ… she's HUGE!"

"Girl, back up—I heard she killed a guy last year by sitting on him!"

Doing her best to ignore all the color commentary, the chubby ogress kept her head down and quickened her pace. Max could practically feel her heart hammering down in her ass. All of the attention was starting to do a number on her digestive system, too—and as a regrettably loud burst of gas ripped through her sweatpants, sending nearby students scattering, he took the brunt of the blast head-on. 

BBBBBRRRRRRFFFFFFTTTTTT

"S-sorry, Max," Daisy whispered. "We're almost there."

While Max had little way of knowing where they were on campus, the sudden shift from oppressive California sun and humidity to shaded, air-conditioned silence suggested they'd finally gotten inside again. Knowing they were likely only steps away from Daisy's first class, Max braced himself. Whatever came next couldn't possibly be worse than the walk.