Curry Fart-Off Shrunken First Semester chapter 14 by maximally

“Sure,” Ravi chuckled, shooting his sister a sly look. If she was counting on him to reveal their shrunken new friend to Riya, she had another thing coming; he had no interest in competing for Max with his own mom. “Long story short, they had some shrinking serum go missing from the in-house lab. I didn’t realize Ophelia was the one who did it, though. Didn’t think she had that in her.”

 

“‘It’?” Riya raised an eyebrow. “So, she…”

 

“She tried claiming a guy, yeah.” Kali chimed back in. “Then she immediately dropped him. Right on the dance floor.”

While Max was relieved that Ravi had opted not to peel him out, he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ophelia? The same Ophelia from his Intro to Bio class with Miss Greenly? She’d always seemed almost sweet—definitely a lot more naive than the average Juno pledge, and barely 4’9” on a good day. The idea that she was the one who’d landed him in this mess was almost funny. But after the weekend he’d had, it barely cracked the top ten for weird revelations.

 

“Oh,” said Riya, struggling to show much enthusiasm for such Goth House exploits. “Well, I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” She hesitated for a moment, then spoke again. “Speaking of… how is your other brother doing?”

 

Kali stared at her mother, her expression stony. "He serves his purpose. He’s obedient. That’s all that matters."

 

“Well… obedience is good," Riya agreed, nodding sagely as she ladled deep-red curry into the bowls. Steam rose in fragrant clouds. “But is he enjoying himself?”

 

"He prays to my farts," Kali snapped, a rare edge of genuine frustration cutting through her usual controlled menace. "What more do you want?"

 

"I want you both to be happy, darling." Riya’s tone shifted, becoming disarmingly gentle. She carried two bowls to the table and set one in front of Kali. "And you don’t sound happy. You sound like you’re managing a chore. That’s no way to treat a partner, no matter their size."

 

Kali stared down at her bowl, fists clenched tight on the table. Max, still mashed against Ravi’s asshole, could feel the giant femboy shaking with barely contained laughter. The tension between mother and daughter was so sharp that Ravi’s easy banter with Riya looked like a sitcom.

 

Finally, Kali picked up her spoon. “Are we eating, or what? I have things to do."

 

"Patience, Kali.” Riya brought the third bowl and the pot of rice to the table, then took her own seat at the head. "You can’t rush the things that matter."

 

As they began to eat, the conversation turned to lighter topics—a scandal involving a Diana house member and a faculty spouse, an upcoming alumni gala Riya was helping to organize, and Ravi’s complaints about his astronomy professor. Kali ate in near-silence, offering only monosyllabic answers to direct questions.

 

Max had no choice but to continue listening, a captive audience to this freakshow family dinner. His whole world was sweat, suffocating heat, and the slow, building pressure in Ravi’s guts. The gurgles were getting louder, more urgent. And right as Riya started in on some story about a clueless male colleague, Ravi shifted on his stool. Max got squeezed even tighter, cheeks clamping down around him. Then came another blast.

 

 

The fart just kept going—wet, brutal, relentless. Max gagged, eyes streaming, lungs on fire as he sucked in the toxic cloud, powerless to do anything but take it. Up at the table, Riya and Kali didn’t even blink.

 

“Really, Ravi?” Riya sighed, though she sounded more amused than annoyed. “At the table?”

 

“What?” Ravi chuckled, giving his hips a little wiggle that ground Max even harder against his now-quivering hole. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been crop-dusting since I got here.”

 

"There’s a difference between seasoning the air and polluting it," Riya said primly. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Then, she placed her hands on the table, her posture straightening. She took a slow, deep breath in through her nose and let it out through her mouth. Her expression was one of serene concentration. "But since you’ve set the bar…"

 

Kali stopped eating, her spoon hovering midway to her mouth. Ravi leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

 

Riya’s body tensed almost imperceptibly. A low, deep rumble emanated from her, audible even over the hum of the refrigerator.

 

 

Riya’s fart was a showstopper: deeper, longer, wetter, a thunderous roar that rattled the kitchen tiles. The stink hit like a sledgehammer, cutting through the curry and onions like they weren’t even there. Even buried in Ravi’s ass, Max got a full blast—a spicy, meaty, almost regal stench that screamed power and total, shameless control.

 

Ravi waved a hand in front of his face, coughing dramatically. "Damn, Mom. Okay. You win."

 

"I always do," Riya purred, looking immensely pleased with herself. She picked up her spoon as if nothing had happened.

 

Then, from the other side of the table, came a slow, deliberate exhale. Kali placed her spoon neatly beside her bowl. She didn’t look at either of them. She simply leaned back in her chair, her leather-clad thighs spreading slightly. One hand rested on her stomach.

 

The anticipation in the room became palpable. Ravi’s grin widened. Riya watched her daughter with raised eyebrows, a challenge accepted.

 

Kali’s expression remained impassive. Her abdominal muscles visibly tightened beneath her crop top. A deep, subterranean gurgle echoed from her core, louder than either of the previous sounds had been before they started.

 

Then, she let go.

 

 

Kali’s fart started low, like a volcano rumbling to life, then tore through the room in a blast so violent that Max was sure he could hear their plates shaking. It was the nastiest, longest, most savage fart he’d ever heard, and the stink that followed was pure annihilation. It hit like a wall, thick with rot and raw power, making even Riya’s seem like nothing. This was what real dominance smelled like.

 

The kitchen fell silent for a long moment.

 

Riya was the first to break the silence. She let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Well." She fanned her face gently with her hand, a wry smile on her face. "I suppose we know where you stand, Kali."

 

Kali picked up her spoon again, her face a mask of cool satisfaction. She shoved a large bite of rice and curry into her mouth.

 

"Shut up," she said around the food, but there was no heat in it. Only smug victory.

 

Inside Ravi’s ass, Max was a wreck—gasping, dizzy, barely holding it together. He’d taken Ravi’s full blast, then got hammered by the leftovers from the two women’s fart-off, each one nastier than the last. His head spun, his lungs burned, and worst of all, some pathetic part of him was throbbing with need. The raw, casual power they held over him was grinding down whatever pride he had left.

 

As the Chandras dug in, their voices fading into background noise, Max pressed his face against Ravi’s sweaty, twitching pucker and wondered, sinking into a pit of despair he didn’t know he had, how the hell this day could get any worse.

 

He was pretty sure the answer was already bubbling in the guts of the giants all around him.