Fueling up with Lupe Shrunken First Semester chapter 14 by maximally

“Now? It’s time to earn your keep, mijo.” Lupe winked, turned away, and slipped her arms into the sleeves of her pink housecoat, the fabric whispering over her still-flushed skin. Then, before Max could reply, she bent down, carefully slid her hand under his small figure, and scooped him up in one warm palm. She cradled him against the soft curve of her belly as she padded barefoot down the hallway, as if all this was routine.
 
The kitchen glowed with mid-morning sun. Copper pots gleamed. A small radio hummed ranchera music. Lupe set him on the wide tile counter beside the cutting board and tied her housecoat loosely. “Stay put. You’re on spoon duty today.”
 
She moved with the calm efficiency of someone who had cooked a thousand meals here. Leftover beans went into a pot with broth, chopped onion, and cumin. Thick slices of bacon hit the hissing skillet. Each of her steps sent tiny tremors through the counter. Max watched her massive form as she circled around him; each step made the counter tremble. She picked up a miniature spoon she’d clearly prepared earlier and handed it to him. For her, it was no bigger than a toothpick, but in his arms, it felt as heavy as a broom handle.
 
"Hold this steady while I stir," she said. Lupe placed the tip of the wooden spoon into the pot, then positioned Max's hands on the thick handle, guiding his grip with her large fingers. She waited for him to brace with both arms before she began to stir, making sure he was supporting the spoon.
 
Max dug his bare feet into the cool tile and threw his whole body into the job. The spoon dipped and swirled under his effort, while Lupe’s hand above steered like a benevolent god. Heat wafted up from the skillet. He was so intent on not letting the spoon slip, he almost missed the first muffled rumble.
 
Lupe didn’t even pause. A low, bubbling fart slipped out of her as she reached for the chili powder, warm and thick, drifting across the counter like a lazy breeze. It carried the same earthy, bean-heavy scent that was already rising from the pan, only more concentrated. She chuckled once, waved a hand behind herself, and kept stirring as if nothing had happened.
 
By the time the meal was ready—refried beans scooped beside fluffy scrambled eggs, warm corn tortillas, and a quick salsa she’d pulsed together—Max’s arms ached, and his skin was slick with a light sheen of steam and exertion. Lupe plated everything, then lifted him and the tiny spoon together and carried both to the kitchen table. She settled into her chair with a pleased sigh, set him on a folded napkin beside her plate, and tore off a thumbnail-sized piece of tortilla for him.
 
They ate in comfortable quiet, the only sounds the scrape of her fork and the low ranchera music. The food was, as always, stupidly good.
 
Lupe took a sip of her coffee. She set the mug down and tilted her head, studying him with that steady, open gaze. “So tell me, mijo. How are you feeling? In general, I mean.”
 
Max paused mid-bite, the scrap of tortilla halfway to his mouth. “Uh… good? I think?” He swallowed. “Everything’s still kind of… a lot.”
 
She nodded. “I get that. But are you enjoying living with your old abuela so far? No second thoughts about coming home with Victoria and Izzy instead?”
 
He met her eyes and felt the truth settle in his chest before he could second-guess it. “I’m glad I’m here, Abuela. Really. I mean… It’s weird. Obviously. But I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”
 
Lupe’s whole face softened. “Ay, mijo. That makes me happier than you know.” She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “And if there’s anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable here, you tell me, okay? This is your home now too. I want you to feel it.”
 
Max nodded, the offer landing warmly. But even as he did, the one thing that had been gnawing at him since yesterday pushed its way forward. He knew he was risking another gentle lecture, especially after she had shut down the laptop idea so firmly the night before. Still, the words came out before he could stop them.
 
“Actually… there is something.” He set his tortilla down, nerves tightening. “I know I used to spend way too much time online. But it’s been almost two days, and I haven’t been offline this long in years. Would you maybe… be willing to let me use your phone for a bit? It would help me feel a lot more normal.”
 
Lupe raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with amusement. She studied him a long moment, then let out a soft, fond laugh.
 
“Ay, look at you, making your little case like a lawyer. Very polite—I like that.” She leaned back, chair creaking. “I’ll be honest, mijo. I use the internet too. I talk to your tía Fanny, watch church sermons, stream my novelas when the cable acts up. So I’m not completely against it.”
 
Max’s heart lifted.
 
“But,” she continued, holding up one finger, “there will be rules. You only use it when I say so, and only while I’m right there with you. No hiding. No staying on it for hours. We’ll start small and see how it goes. Understood?”
 
“Yes,” he said quickly. “Completely. Thank you.”
 
“Alright.” Lupe pulled her phone from her housecoat pocket and set the glowing screen beside him. “Go on then. Show me what you do on this thing.”
 
He moved to the bottom edge of the screen, feet padding across the smooth glass as if it were a dance floor. With both hands, he tapped the app store icon—awkward at his scale, but doable—and downloaded Reddit. The progress bar felt endless. When it finished, he logged in, muscle memory guiding his tiny fingers across the giant keyboard. Only then did he realize he'd have been better off staying off his old account.
 
The first posts to load were all from r/BokuNoHeroAcademia and r/animememes: curvy heroines in skin-tight costumes, exaggerated hips and chests bouncing across colorful panels. One in particular—a fan-art piece of a busty MHA character striking a pose—filled half the screen. Behind him, Lupe’s whole expression changed; a big, knowing smile spread across her face, slow and dangerous in the best way. 
 
“¡Mírate, travieso!” she purred, voice husky and rich with amusement. “So this is what you were looking at instead of talking to real girls, eh?” Without warning, she shifted forward in her chair, the soft, heavy bulk of her breasts settling against the edge of the table right beside him. She reached down with both hands and gently pressed them together, the warm, yielding flesh swelling forward until Max was caught in the sudden, fragrant valley of cleavage that pressed lightly against his side. “No wonder you get so red and shy when Abuela hugs you tight. You like them with some meat on the bones… like your Abuela~.”
 
Max’s ears burned. He stammered something incoherent, but Lupe only laughed, the sound vibrating through her body and into him. She kept her breasts snugly pressed together a moment longer, the heat and softness overwhelming, before easing back just enough to let him breathe.
 
He scrolled a little longer, tension slowly loosening from his shoulders. Fortunately, the rest of his feed—a mix of gaming, anime and niche memes—was much less overtly unflattering. For the first time since shrinking, a thin thread connected him back to the outside world—even though having his giant abuela over his shoulder made for a completely new browsing experience.
 
After ten minutes, Lupe sighed softly and reached for the phone. “Alright, mijo. Time’s up for now.” Her tone stayed light, but the decision was final. “Maybe you can earn a little more before bed tonight—if you give Abuela’s feet a nice long rub first.”
 
She pocketed the phone with a wink, then stood, stacking the plates with a quiet clatter. “I’ll be right back. Going to throw on some real clothes. Probably seen enough of your abuela naked for one day, eh?” She grinned down at him, playful. “Unless you want to tag along for another look. Door’s open.”
 
“I’m all set.” Max managed a chuckle, the sound thin even to his own ears. “Thanks.”
 
She left him there on the napkin, the kitchen suddenly huge and quiet around him. For the first time since he’d woken up shrunken yesterday morning, he was alone. No warm palm, no looming body, no voice filling the air. The silence pressed in. The hum of the fridge, the distant tick of a clock, the creak of the floorboards as she moved in the next room—it all felt too loud and too empty at the same time. His chest tightened. The hollow feeling from the table talk widened into something colder, sharper. What the hell was he doing here?
 
He hugged his knees, skin still sticky with steam. The counter stretched like a desert around him. For one wild second he wondered if he could climb down and hide. The thought dissolved into embarrassment. Hide from what? From her? From the only person who actually wanted him around?
 
Footsteps returned. Lupe stepped back in wearing a simple yellow sundress that swayed around her knees, hair in a loose bun. She looked fresh, rested, completely at ease. Relief flooded Max so fast it embarrassed him. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
 
“Ready, mijo?” She smiled down at him, soft and knowing. “We've got errands to run.”
 
Her hand descended, warm and steady, and scooped him up without waiting for an answer.