Emily “Shortstacks” Matherson Shrunken First Semester chapter 3 by G-Writer and maximally

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll leave the bathroom ventilation alone, I promise! How was I supposed to know that boosting the outward airflow would pump all the stink into the common room? Geez, you make it smell like someone took several dumps in the common one— okay, three times and everyone thinks you’re a troublemaker…”

Max could only stare in awe as the source of the voice pushed through the door as she finished her conversation and subsequent mumbling. A shock of red-brown hair splayed up in all directions in a rooster tail that was held aloft by a metal hair-clip that looked suspiciously like a refashioned door-hinge, making the relatively short woman look at least slightly taller than she was. Nonetheless, even at her 4’10” height, Emily “Shortstacks” Matherson towered over Max’s diminutive form. It wasn’t like Emily’s specific height was what Max was concerned with anyway, especially as she bounced into the room. Despite, or maybe because of, her short stature, there was… a lot of Emily to take in.

Her face was expressive and almost perpetually floating somewhere between curiosity and mischief in her sea-green eyes, a smile plastered on her freckled face that was the real-life personification of an anime fang. She was currently dressed in a yellow tank top style undershirt as a full top, the fabric stretched and too small on her breasts (both the size of her head) to the point it left her soft yet smooth tummy on full display and her nipples only slightly less so… though they did their damndest to point the way wherever she was going with no bra. The material was also lightly stained in places, some no-doubt from her constant tinkering and sticking her upper body into places it probably didn’t belong (like the aforementioned ducts), but also quite heavily under her arms from sweat and lack of washing.

Below that, a pair of sage-green cargo pants sat *very* low on her hips that somehow made her breasts look (at least relatively) small. The pants were so low in fact that her hip chub actually overflowed them some, and although Max couldn’t see from his position, more than a bit of a coin slot from her bum crack always showed… and when she moved and twisted every once in a while her pubic hair would show over the top of the waistband. It was fairly obvious that Emily didn’t believe in bras *or* panties, and even though the cargo pants were meant to be baggy on anyone else, her hips and butt were so gigantic that the poor bottoms looked painted on and were being overrun by overflowing chub. There was a reason Emily’s nickname was “Shortstacks”, emphasizing this by making it plural.

Max stood stock still and stared open-mouthed as Emily’s eyes scanned along the upper walls of the common room. She completely missed his diminutive form on the table, as she continued talking to herself once the door shut behind her. “Yup, I’ll leave the bathroom vents alone… didn’t say anything about the common room ducts though… Hehe…”

Max nearly jumped out of his skin as her eyes swept down towards his table… only for her to grab one of the nearby chairs and unceremoniously (and very loudly) drag said chair over a but to the large duct towards the top of the nearby wall. With a hop and a flurry of motion that produced a multi-tool from seemingly nowhere, Emily was up on the chair, had the duct open, and with a few additional shimmies had herself face-first into the duct up to her waist… and to Max this was a whole new sight to behold.

From the front, Emily had already been an imposing figure, especially at his size, but from the back… she was monumental. Whether her shimmying into the duct had been the last straw or whether this was a regular occurrence for her, Max didn’t know, but at some point her cargo pants had given up on any pretense of controlling (or even covering) her gargantuan butt. Especially with her being on the chair this close, it looked to Max like two humongous, jiggling, sweaty, and slightly cellulite-dusted moons were periodically bouncing over him, ready to fall out of the “sky” at any moment. The impressive sight only became more so as Emily wiggled and rocked her hips to an internal tune while she tinkered, oblivious to the world around (and behind) her. This sent her humongous bum cheeks and deep, foreboding crack jiggling like an ocean’s worth of jello, her cheeks even clapping welty together occasionally when she found something particularly interesting.

As butt sweat rained down off the bulbous surface above him, Max was both in awe… and a little grossed out, especially as the smell of quite-ripe ass began to invade his space. Shaking his head both to try (and fail) to clear away the stench and get his head in the game, he decided he needed to take some kind of action. Sure, he *could* just keep standing here staring at Emily’s galactic-level ass looming over him, but there were *quite* a few things that could go wrong with that course of (in)action, even if she didn’t notice him herself… And so, after considering for a few moments (and with the “encouragement” of an errant drop of particularly raunchy ass sweat that dropped directly on his head), Max decided he would…

Choices:

1. …do nothing after all. Max’s virgin brain won’t let him look away from this near-goddess-level display of femininity, consequences be damned, until eventually Emily notices him.

2. …do nothing after all. Max’s virgin brain won’t let him look away from this near-goddess-level display of femininity, consequences be damned, until someone else comes in and notices Emily (and maybe him).

3. …try to get Emily’s attention. The chair she’s standing on is close enough he should be able to jump from the table to it even at his diminished height. Though… the only option to get her attention is to start climbing her… starting with her *very* well-worn tennis shoes.

4. —Before he could take any action, Emily finishes her tinkering… and proceeds to sit down… directly onto the table/spot Max is sitting, her crack completely (and obliviously) devouring him.