Swiping Right with Lupe Shrunken First Semester chapter 20 by maximally

Max sat on the rug beside Lupe’s phone, still flushed and trembling from the long, sloppy worship session with her right foot. His lips felt swollen. The taste of her skin coated the inside of his mouth, no matter how many times he swallowed. He could still feel the ghost of her sole pressed against his face, the way her toes had curled and flexed, using him, guiding him, claiming every inch of attention he had to give. Even now, the scent clung to him: vinegary-sweet foot sweat and skin sunk into his hair, his chest, the back of his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, the gesture small and useless, then climbed onto the glowing glass and opened Tinder.

 

Whenever Max had tried using dating apps in the past, it had left him feeling exposed and slightly pathetic. But ever since he’d started waking up between Lupe’s breasts and spending long stretches of the day on his knees worshipping her feet, checking Tinder every morning had become a stubborn little ritual. Proof that he was still trying. That he hadn’t completely surrendered to the idea that this — being his abuela’s personal foot pet — was all he had left.

 

His profile was still the same assortment of photos he’d uploaded over the summer, in a final last-ditch effort to find a girlfriend before college: awkward selfies, one of him holding a controller with a lopsided grin, another from some long-forgotten anime convention. The bio was the same painfully earnest paragraph he’d written months ago: loving RPGs, late-night Elden Ring sessions, “looking for someone who doesn’t mind a quiet guy who geeks out about worldbuilding.”

 

When he checked his matches, the little flame icon was empty. No notifications. No hearts. Just the same old queue. And his profile still proudly claimed he was 5’8”.

 

For a second, Max just stared at it. The silence in his head was deafening. He’d spent the last twenty minutes on his knees kissing and licking his abuela’s foot like it was the only girl who would ever let him touch her — and now the universe was hitting him with fresh evidence that this was exactly where he belonged. The humiliation settled in his chest, heavy and familiar.

 

Lupe leaned over, her massive breasts shifting heavily above him, and peered at the screen. “Ay, pobrecito. Still no matches? That’s alright. You can’t hurry love.”

 

Before he could answer, she playfully nudged him with her right foot. The warm, slightly damp ball of her sole pressed against his side with slow, deliberate gentleness, nuzzling him like an affectionate pet. Heat radiated through his tiny frame. Her toes curled lazily around his waist, the pads enveloping him in a gentle but inescapable squeeze that made his breath catch.

 

“Though this one might not make breaking up easy,” Lupe added with a low chuckle. “She’s gotten attached. You keep treating her this well, and she’ll never let you go.”

 

Max’s face burned. He let out a weak, embarrassed laugh and gently pushed at the massive toe. His palms sank slightly into the plush pad.

 

“Abuela…” He hesitated, then forced the words out. “Can you maybe lay off the jokes about me dating your foot? It’s already weird enough.”

 

Lupe’s teasing expression faltered. She studied him for a long moment, her foot going still against his side. When she spoke, her voice was quieter, gentler.

 

“I’m sorry, mijo,” she said. “I thought if I joked about it, maybe you wouldn’t feel so embarrassed.” She gave a small, rueful smile, the wrinkles at the corners of her warm brown eyes deepening. “I know it’s a lot to get used to. I’ll stop.”

 

Max nodded, eyes fixed on the rug. While he appreciated that she actually listened, the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen. It still felt like she was the only one who wanted anything to do with him now.

 

Lupe seemed to sense it. She gently withdrew her foot the rest of the way and nodded toward the phone.

 

“Go on then,” she said, softer than before. “See who’s out there.”

 

He started scrolling, face still burning.

 

The first profile was an e-girl with heavy black eyeliner, purple-streaked hair, and a septum ring. Fishnet sleeves. A pouty expression. Lupe hummed thoughtfully.

 

“Cute style,” she said. “Very… dramatic. Reminds me of Izzy, no?”

 

Max swiped left without thinking.

 

Next: a basic-looking blonde in a crop top and yoga pants, posing in front of a mirror with a Starbucks cup. Lupe tilted her head.

 

“Pretty. Clean,” she murmured. “Doesn’t really seem like your type, though, no?”

 

Left again. Max sighed.

 

A nerdy girl with glasses and a My Hero Academia hoodie appeared next. Max actually paused.

 

Lupe noticed. “Ooh. She looks smart. Like you.” She gave an approving little nod. “Right swipe. Abuela approves.”

 

He swiped right, ears warm.

 

The next profile was a curvy Latina baddie — thick thighs, big confident smile, low-cut top showing generous cleavage. Dark hair in loose waves, full lips. She looked painfully like the woman currently looming over him.

 

Lupe laughed, a low, warm sound that rolled down from above and made the phone buzz faintly beneath Max’s feet. “Ay, pobrecito… that’s one of my friends’ granddaughters. I haven’t even tried fixing you up with her yet.” She leaned closer, her massive pendulous breasts shifting heavily, their soft weight casting a deeper shadow over him and the glowing screen. Her voice took on a playful, nostalgic edge. “You know, mijo… she looks exactly like I did when I was your age. Same hips. Same smile. Same everything.” She gave a slow smile, eyes crinkling. “Back then, I would’ve eaten a shy little thing like you alive.”

 

Max’s face went from warm to molten. He could feel her eyes on him, feel the weight of that comparison. The lingering foot taste on his tongue, the sweat still clinging to his skin, the memory of her toe flexing against his lips — it all crashed together until he couldn’t take one more second of it.

 

He closed Tinder without swiping.

 

Lupe made a soft, knowing sound but didn’t push. She just watched, amused, as he opened Reddit instead.

 

The usual mix of anime, gaming, and memes loaded… but the more he scrolled, trying to distract himself with the simple pleasures of his favorite things, the more he found himself painfully, helplessly aware of the way Lupe was still looming over him. Her heat and familiar scent filled the space, and every time she shifted, he smelled her again, closer, stronger.

 

 

As another deep, rolling, unapologetic Abuela fart washed over him, Max felt his face get even hotter. There was no denying that he was starting to get used to the smell of Lupe’s gas—but at this point, he wasn’t even coughing anymore. Was this another effect of whatever he’d been dosed with, or just his body’s way of adapting to his strange new life? He wasn’t sure which answer was worse.

 

He forced his gaze back to the screen — some thread about Elden Ring DLC — but the words blurred. Posts about builds. Lore discussions. A meme that usually would’ve made him snort. None of it stuck. His mind kept circling back to the way her toe had flexed when he kissed it, the approving sound she made, and how she’d called him a good boy.

 

Eventually, he looked up at her. “So… what are we doing today?”

 

Lupe leaned forward, her massive form shifting with a soft rustle of fabric. Her hand descended, palm warm and steady, the skin of her fingers carrying that same lived-in texture. It closed gently but securely around his naked body, lifting him effortlessly from the rug. The world tilted as he rose past the soft swell of her belly, the heavy hang of her pendulous breasts, until he was level with her face. Her warm brown eyes regarded him with quiet affection and something deeper, more possessive.

 

“Well, mijo,” she said, voice rich with promise, the low rumble of it vibrating through her chest and into his small frame, “I think we could both use a change of scenery, don’t you?”