When Max turned around, his heart rate tripled. Standing in the doorway was a silver-haired Indian amazon, a woman he knew all too well. This was Riya Chandra—Ventus's top on-campus psychiatrist, the mother of House Juno's most infamous current member, and Max's Intro to Psychology professor.
Up until this moment, Riya had existed in Max's mind as little more than a distant fantasy, a voluptuous goddess whose curves he'd admired from the safety of the back row of her class. She regularly spent half of every lecture talking about her love for "troubled young men" with a smile that made the entire class squirm. Many of his more assertive male classmates had already taken her up on her constant offers to stop by her office after class—including his roommate, Zeke, who'd returned from their first "session" together so thoroughly drained that he'd barely been able to string a sentence together for several hours afterwards. Now, though, with all six feet, four inches and 217 pounds of her towering over him with an air of casual amusement, she felt like something else entirely.
As she surveyed the room, her deep brown eyes — sharp, knowing, and framed by smoky eyeshadow — landed on him almost immediately. Her gaze was paralyzing, a mix of clinical curiosity and something far more primal.
"My, my," Riya murmured, her voice a rich, velvety purr. "That's new."
She stepped forward, the click of her slip-on dress shoes muffled by the plush carpet. The scent of her jasmine perfume drifted toward him, mingling with a faint, musky undertone of sweat. Max swallowed hard as she approached, his gaze helplessly drawn to the way her frilly green blouse strained against her double D-cup breasts, the top buttons left deliberately undone to reveal a boundless expanse of cleavage.
Riya crouched in front of the coffee table, her black chinos stretching over her monumental hips, thighs and ass as she settled onto the couch. The furniture groaned under her weight, the leather creaking in protest, and Max found himself eye-level with her pronounced cameltoe. The sheer power she seemed to radiate was dizzying.
"You're awfully small to be wandering around on your own, aren't you?" she teased, tilting her head. A silver strand of hair slipped free from her elegant bun, brushing against her cheek as she studied him. "What's your name, sweetheart?"
"M-Max," he stammered. "Max Calhoun?"
"Max…" She tapped a manicured finger against her lips. "I'm sorry, have we met?"
Max's face fell. Of course, she didn't remember him. Even at full size, he'd always struggled to get any attention from members of the opposite sex, even his teachers—and now, he had a feeling it would be even harder. The realization stung more than he expected. "I'm in your Intro to Psych class? Tuesday and Thursday mornings?"
"Ah!" Riya snapped her fingers. "Of course, I remember you now. Back row on the right, near the window. You always look like you're trying to disappear into the wall." She grinned, her plush, red-glossed lips flashing perfect white teeth. "No offense."
"None taken," Max muttered, wondering if he'd be in this position right now if he'd made more of an effort to put himself out there socially before last night.
"I suppose I didn't recognize you without the hoodie and sweatpants, either." She allowed her eyes to wander down to Max's nakedness, prompting the shrunken freshman to hurriedly clasp both hands over his groin.
"Oh, hah, yeah." Max forced a laugh, blushing profusely. "I, uh… I kinda just woke up like this."
"I can tell." Riya chuckled. She leaned forward slightly, her cleavage deepening into a cavern of soft, perfumed flesh. "I'm sure this is all a lot to take in."
"I… yeah." Trying to steer the conversation away from his own growing humiliation, Max cleared his throat. "Aren't you… I mean, shouldn't you be more surprised? About me being…" He gestured helplessly at his shrunken form. "You know… like this?"
Riya raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting into something between pity and amusement. "Oh, Max." Her tone was almost fond. "You really don't know what's happened to you, do you?"
He shook his head.
"Well… short answer is, you've been dosed with shrinking serum." She said this matter-of-factly, as if discussing a common cold. "It's a bit of a problem on campus here, especially with certain… especially enthusiastic members of House Juno." Her lips twitched, a flicker of something dark passing through her eyes. "You're lucky I found you before my daughter or one of her ghastly little friends did."
Max's stomach twisted at the thought. If Riya was a Ventus legend, her daughter Kali was well on her way to becoming one of her own—and not the good kind. A six-foot-four, 280-pound goth dominatrix with a reputation for breaking men both physically and psychologically, she was widely considered the most dangerous young woman on campus. That was the story he'd gotten during his orientation, at least. The idea of ending up in her clutches at this size was enough to make his blood run cold.
"Is there—is there a cure?" Max blurted, his voice cracking with desperation. "For the serum?"
Riya sighed, her expression betraying that she was about to drop even more serious bad news. "Not as far as I know. Most of the serums people use around here are permanent."
The words hit Max like a punch to the gut. Permanent. He'd been holding onto some faint hope that this was just a nightmare, a bad trip, something he could sleep off. But the way Riya said it — so casually, so final — left no room for denial.
"Don't let that get you down, though," Riya added, her tone softening as she reached down to stroke his back with a single, enormous fingertip. "I've got plenty of experience with shrunken guys your age, and I'd be more than happy to help you get… adjusted. "
Max blinked. If Riya had meant for this to sound like a consolation prize, he wasn't exactly feeling it yet. He wasn't entirely sure what she meant by "adjustment," either—and was very curious where her previous shrunken patients were now. But he had no luck working up the courage to ask.
"So," Riya continued, "how about we take this back to my office?" Her gaze dropped meaningfully to his naked form again, lingering just long enough to make him squirm. "Unless you're waiting for someone?"
Relief washed over him. "Yes! I mean, no. I mean… please take me with you."
"Good." Riya smiled, then paused, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. "Now, the real question is… where do you want to ride on the way over there?"
Max hesitated. "What?"
"I mean, front, or back?" She gestured first to her cleavage, then to the generous curve of her ass, the fabric of her chinos pulling taut over the swell. "I've seen the way you look at me in class, you know. I'm not blind."
Heat rushed to Max's face. He opened his mouth to deny it, but again found himself struggling to form words.
Riya's knowing smirk widened. "Relax, sweetheart. I don't mind." She waved a hand dismissively, her ruby ring catching the light. "If I did, you'd know."
Max's mouth went dry. Riya wasn't just teasing him; it almost seemed like she was savoring his flustered reactions, reveling in the power she held over him. Clearly, Kali had come by her infamous tendencies quite honestly—although her mom seemed to have a slightly lighter touch. And the worst part? A small, strange part of him was loving it. The way her voice dripped with amusement, the way her gaze raked over him like he was a specimen under glass—it sent a thrill through him that was equal parts terror and arousal. He really wasn't sure how to feel about that.
"I, uh…" He hesitated again, then pointed weakly at her chest. "Can I… ride up front?"
Riya laughed. "See? That wasn't so hard." She reached down, her fingers — manicured, elegant, and enormous — closing around his tiny body with surprising gentleness. "I like a man who knows what he wants."
Before Max could process the compliment, Riya lifted him toward her chest. The world tilted dizzyingly as she adjusted her grip, her thumb brushing against him in a way that was almost affectionate. Then, with a playful wink, she dropped him into the warm, perfumed valley of her cleavage.
After eighteen years as a kissless virgin, Max found the sensation of suddenly being buried between his professor's boobs to be utterly overwhelming. Soft, pillowy flesh enveloped him on all sides, the heat of Riya's skin seeping into his own. Her scent filled his lungs, heady and intoxicating. Above him, her blouse stretched taut, casting him in shadow, the rhythmic thud of her heartbeat a steady drum against his back.
"Comfy?" Riya's voice rumbled through her chest, making his face go redder than ever.
Max could only nod mutely, his face pressed against the smooth, sweat-slicked swell of her breast.
"Good." She shifted, and the world lurched as she stood. Her breasts swayed with the motion, jostling him gently, the friction of skin against skin sending sparks of sensation through his tiny body. "Now, let's get you somewhere a little more… private."