Third Wheeling Zeke and Maddie Shrunken First Semester chapter 4 by maximally

Zeke’s groan turned into a low, resigned chuckle as he glanced down at the three-inch-tall Max still standing on the coffee table. “Ah, shit… that’s probably Maddie.”

 

Max’s stomach dropped. “Maddie? Like, our neighbor Maddie? Dude, get rid of her! I’m naked and three inches tall—hide me or something, quick!”

 

Zeke was already moving, his big bare feet slapping the dorm carpet. He scooped Max up in one warm palm—gentle but hurried—and crossed the room in two strides. The desk drawer on Zeke’s side was half-open, stuffed with tangled charger cables, empty energy drink cans, and a forgotten bag of Takis. Without ceremony, he dropped Max inside, the tiny guy tumbling onto a pile of crumpled receipts.

 

“Zeke, wait—don’t just stuff me in here! What if she stays? You can’t trust—”

 

The drawer slid shut with a soft thunk, cutting Max off mid-protest. Darkness swallowed him, broken only by a thin crack of light at the top. Max’s breathing quickened; he pressed a trembling hand to his chest, straining to pick out Zeke’s muffled voice through the wood. Already, dread and frustration tangled with the isolation closing in around him.

 

The door opened.

 

“Hey, Maddie! What’s good?” Zeke sounded perfectly casual, like he hadn’t just hidden a shrunken roommate in his desk. Max could picture the lazy grin on his face, the way his gray sweatpants hung low on his hips.

 

Maddie’s voice floated in—warm, a little raspy from morning weed, the exact “girl-next-door stoner” vibe Max remembered from the few times they’d passed each other in the hall. “Yo, Zeke. Smelled that bong rip from my room and figured you were up."

 

She didn’t wait for an answer. Max heard the soft whump of her dropping onto Zeke’s bed like she owned the place. Sneakers kicked off, sweatpants rustling. From the sliver of light, he caught a glimpse when Zeke shifted: Maddie was exactly as he remembered her—5'7", curvy and soft at 190 pounds with a big, plush butt that stretched the faded brown sweatpants she always wore. Short blonde pixie cut (grown out just enough to look a little messy), freckles across her pale cheeks, green eyes half-lidded from whatever she’d smoked earlier. Dark green Ventus sweatshirt riding up to show a strip of soft belly.

 

Zeke laughed, low and flirty. “Hell yeah."

 

The next thirty minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity for Max.

 

Maddie kicked her socked feet up onto Zeke’s bedframe, crossing her thick thighs. “You wanna watch some nature docs? I’ve got that new one on deep-sea vents queued up—bioluminescent shit is wild. Or we can do the one about those weird-ass octopus migrations if you’re feeling it.”

 

Zeke dropped down beside her, the mattress creaking under their combined weight. “Hell yeah, throw on the vent one. I’m still half-dead from last night anyway.” He grabbed the bong from the nightstand, packed a fresh bowl, and passed it over. The sweet, skunky smell of weed quickly filled the room, leaking through the drawer crack and making Max’s eyes water.

 

For the next half hour, they lounged there, passing the bong back and forth while the Netflix documentary played on Zeke’s laptop. Maddie’s voice stayed low and lazy, the kind of chill commentary that came naturally to her. “Okay, but look at that tube worm… It’s literally just a giant dick with bacteria living inside it. Nature is metal.” Zeke chuckled, his stocky frame shifting closer to her on the bed. “You’re such a nerd when you’re high,” he teased, nudging her shoulder. Maddie grinned, freckles crinkling, and nudged him right back—harder, playful. “Says the guy who owns three Star Wars Funko Pops.”

 

They kept it light, the flirting effortless and low-key. Zeke complimented the new septum piercing again, fingers brushing her cheek “accidentally” while passing the bong. Maddie called him out on his bedhead, reaching over to ruffle his fluffy black hair and letting her hand linger on the back of his neck. Every few minutes, one of them would laugh at something on screen, bodies scooting a little closer until Maddie’s big, soft thigh was pressed against Zeke’s. The room grew hazy with smoke. Max could smell it all from his prison—the weed, Maddie’s vanilla body spray mixed with the faint earthy tang of her morning sweat, the greasy takeout leftovers she’d probably had for breakfast wafting off her clothes.

 

Max was losing his mind.

 

Thirty fucking minutes. He paced in the drawer, tiny feet kicking at empty cans and receipts. She’s not even leaving. They’re just… hanging out? Smoking and watching fish? While I’m trapped in here naked? Every time Maddie laughed—loud, raspy, carefree—Max’s frustration spiked. Zeke was supposed to be helping him figure out the shrinking thing, not turning the dorm into a stoner Netflix date. Max could hear the lazy flirtation ramping up: the way Maddie’s voice dropped when she called Zeke “trouble,” the soft sounds of them shifting closer on the bed. He risked pushing the drawer open another millimeter and caught a glimpse—Maddie stretched out on her side, sweatpants riding up over the curve of her massive ass, one hand resting casually on Zeke’s thigh while they both stared at the glowing screen.

 

The documentary narrator droned on about hydrothermal vents. Maddie took another long hit, held it, then exhaled toward the ceiling. “Mmm… this is nice.”

 

Zeke’s hand settled on her hip, thumb tracing lazy circles. “Yeah.”

 

Max slammed his tiny fist against the side of the drawer. Get her out of here! Or at least tell her I’m missing! This is insane!

 

But the flirting just kept going—slow, hazy, and completely oblivious to the tiny, furious boy less than ten feet away.

 

Eventually, the bong was set aside. Maddie turned toward Zeke, green eyes heavy-lidded. “Fuck, you taste like coffee and trouble,” she murmured. Then the kissing started.

 

Maddie’s hand fisted in Zeke’s Star Wars tee, pulling him down on top of her. Zeke’s stocky frame pressed her into the mattress, one big hand sliding under her sweatshirt to cup a heavy breast. Maddie’s thick thighs parted, sweatpants riding up as she wrapped a leg around his waist. The room already smelled like weed and Zeke’s usual musk; now it was mixing with the faint, warm scent of Maddie’s skin—vanilla body spray mixed with something earthier, like the greasy takeout she lived on.

 

Zeke broke the kiss just long enough to tug his shirt off. Maddie grinned, freckles crinkling. “Fuck, you’re hot when you’re hungover.” Her hand slid down his chest, straight into the front of his gray sweatpants. Zeke groaned as she palmed him through his boxers.

 

Max stared, frozen. His own tiny cock twitched despite everything. Part of him was terrified. The other part—the chaotic, desperate, what-if part—was already imagining what would happen if he climbed out, waved his arms, yelled.

 

Would Maddie scream? Laugh? Grab him? Or would she just smirk, that chill stoner grin spreading across her freckled face while she kept Zeke in her mouth, and then… decide what to do with the tiny boy watching them?

 

The choice hung in the air like smoke from the bong.

 

Max’s heart pounded so hard he was sure they could hear it.