Brunch with Katarina and Katya Shrunken First Semester chapter 18 by maximally

"Blyat…"

 

Ursa was fighting a losing battle with her dress, doing her best not to tear it in half—whether by accident or out of sheer frustration. It had already taken her five whole minutes to wrestle it over her hips and ass, and now her boobs were putting up just as much of a fight. Even if this worked, she was going to have to be very careful about sudden movements.

 

"You are lucky, Max," said Ursa, turning to face her shrunken friend. "You know this, yes?"

 

"Why?" Max tried not to stare, but it was impossible. From his spot on Ursa’s desk, he had a front-row seat—and with her powerful lower half packed into form-fitting fabric and her big, bare boobs still gloriously exposed, she was quite the sight to behold.

 

"Men's clothing," Ursa huffed. "Much more… forgiving, compared to women."

 

"Ah, yeah," said Max, shrugging. While Ursa wasn't wrong, her comment mostly just reminded him that he was now well into his third day of being buck naked 24/7. "Hey, speaking of clothes… When we get back from brunch, could you, maybe, like… make me something to wear?"

 

"Something to wear?" A clear trace of redness crept across Ursa's face. "You want me to make clothes… for you?"

 

"Yeah," said Max, blushing back. "I mean, only if you're into it."

 

"Apology, I am. Is just, I have never had client before." Ursa smiled. "I am happy you will be my first."

 

"Cool." Already, Max's face was bright red. "M-me too."

 

"Good way to make up for today, too." Returning her attention to the dress, Ursa scowled. "Now, if I can just…"

 

With one last yank, Ursa managed to drag the dress up over her chest. Max winced as he heard a few seams pop—never a good sign.

 

"There!" Ursa let out a long, triumphant breath. "I hate this."

 

"I can tell," Max laughed. "Hey, worst part's over now, right?"

 

"Not even close," Ursa chuckled, shaking her head. "Apology again, for this."

 

Before Max could say a word, Ursa scooped him up with her usual gentle-but-iron grip. In no time, he was being steered behind her back, up under her dress, and right back into the sweaty, smothering prison of her ass. As gross and cramped as it was, he couldn't help feeling a weird sense of relief. At least in here, he’d be safe from her mom and sister.

 

Ursa slipped her feet into her black pumps, and Max found himself mashed right up against the wrinkly surface of her asshole, which was already squeezing him like a stress ball. He still wasn't sure how he felt about being back in this role for hours on end. The only silver lining was that her dress let in a little more air than her usual gym clothes—not that it helped much, considering how naturally stinky Ursa was, even after a shower to placate Katya.

 

*

 

When Ursa finally made it out of House Diana, a shiny black town car was already waiting. It took her a second to realize the driver was her mom's assistant—mostly because he looked like he'd aged five years in the six months since she’d last seen him. Judging by the nervous look in his eyes, he was still recovering from being Katya's butt-rest for twelve hours straight on the flight from Russia. As Ursa climbed into the backseat, making the whole car dip under her weight, she could actually hear him shudder.

 

"G-good afternoon, Mistress Ursula," the driver stammered, reflexively adjusting his uniform. "You are looking well."

 

"Hello, Arkady," said Ursa, chuckling in spite of herself. "I am coming in peace today, you do not have to worry."

 

Arkady let out a huge sigh of relief, and Ursa found herself doing the same. She still had no clue why this guy ever agreed to work for her family—though with her mom, it probably involved some shady debt. Either way, Katarina and Katya had been making his life miserable for years, and back when Ursa was her high school's top bully, she'd joined in more than a few times.

 

The drive downtown was dead silent. Ursa sat in the back, gripping her knees so hard her knuckles went white. The only things keeping her sane were the sugary Russian pop in her AirPods and the constant squirming of Max under her. Meanwhile, Max was getting tossed around with every bump, each swerve mashing him deeper into the soft, sweaty wall of Ursa's ass.

 

When the car finally glided to a stop, Ursa went rigid—almost like a soldier entering combat. Arkady was quick to get up and open her door, and as she gazed up at the imposing front facade of the California Imperial Hotel, she grimaced. The ostentatious mix of white marble and gold leaf never failed to remind her of Katarina's Moscow penthouse, and not in a good way.

 

"Here we go," she muttered, doing her best to climb out of the car without flashing the small army of valets who were already rushing to attend her.

 

As soon as Ursa walked into the lobby, every head turned her way. Normally she could handle it, but today, with the nightmare brunch ahead, it just made her skin crawl. The place was a sensory overload—marble, gold, silk, carpets everywhere. At least she managed to snag an elevator alone, which meant she could finally let out some of the pressure building up inside her.

 

 

She shifted her weight and squeezed out a small but deadly fart right into Max's face. After a few days with Ursa, Max was getting used to her stink, but this one still had him coughing and squirming like always.

 

"Apology again, Max," said Ursa, pulling her cheeks apart to offer some ventilation. "Is last one for a while, I promise."

 

Before they could spend any more time marinating in stink, the elevator doors chimed open, revealing the Excelsior Room.

 

Situated on the top floor of the thirty-story complex, the restaurant felt more like a throne room than a brunch place. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows on every wall, Ursa could clearly see the Pacific in the distance—and, in the other direction, the modest sprawl of the Ventus campus. At a table in the center of the room, she found her mother sitting in frozen elegance, framed by white fur and blood-red silk, already halfway through what looked like a full pint glass of vodka. Katya lounged beside her, looking like a panther ready to pounce, her silver grills glinting as she flashed a smirk toward Ursa.

 

"You are late, Ursula," Katarina growled, without looking up from her menu.

 

"Apology, Mama." Taking the remaining seat at the table, Ursa refrained from meeting her mother's gaze. "The dress. It was… a challenge."

 

"Nonsense." Katarina finally looked up, golden eyes sweeping over her daughter with disdain. "It was made for your measurements."

 

Katya giggled. "Perhaps you need to cut back on the shakes, little bear."

 

After another excruciating moment of silence, Katarina leaned forward and rang a small silver bell next to her glass, summoning a dozen servants. In a matter of seconds, they filled the entire table with a spread of caviar, blini, smoked salmon and pastries. Then, as quickly as they had come, they were gone.

 

As the door clicked shut, Max could feel Ursa's whole body go tense. Somewhere way above him, her stomach let out a thunderous gurgle. He knew that sound by now—her stress was about to turn into a full-blown gut storm.

 

"So." Katarina took a delicate sip of vodka. "Where were we? You are sexually active, I assume?"

 

"Mama!" Ursa blushed.

 

"Come now, little bear." Katya leaned over the table, flashing another silver grin. "We are all adults here."

 

"Your sister is right," said Katarina. "You are a woman, and a woman has needs. My only concern is who you choose to meet those needs."

 

Ursa groaned. She'd heard this speech from her mom a hundred times before. It was a big part of why she barely had any experience with sex before coming to Ventus.

 

"Remember that one girl?" Katya chimed in mid-blini. "The weightlifter, back in Yakutsk."

 

"Ah, yes." Katarina grinned. "What was her name again, Ursula?"

 

"Svetlana," Ursa muttered, grimacing at the mention of her first crush. "You made her transfer."

 

Max couldn't make out most of what was being said from under all that Siberian amazon, but he got the gist. Katarina was the kind of mom who picked favorites, and she wanted Ursa to be just like Katya. After one especially nasty comment about Ursa's major, Ursa dropped her fork with a loud clatter.

 

"You are getting upset, Ursula?" Katya bit her lip with her top grill. "This place really is making you soft."

 

"Perhaps she is wondering why we are here," said Katarina. "I am surprised she has gone so long without asking."

 

"Da," said Ursa, nodding. "A little."