Smothered by Sparky Shrunken First Semester chapter 3 by maximally

Max’s face burned. His pride screamed at him to stay silent, but the part of him that still desperately wanted even a shred of control over what happened next won out. He swallowed hard, voice cracking as he forced the words out.

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“I guess…” he muttered. “Butt guy?”

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Enny’s smile widened, slow and delighted.

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“Perfect,” he said. “Here’s how this is gonna go.” He glanced between Sparky and Benji like a referee about to start a match. “You two are both gonna sit on him. The one who makes him tap out first wins. Simple.”

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Apollo’s head snapped toward Enny, eyes wide with alarm.

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“Enny, is that— I mean, that doesn’t seem like a very good idea—”

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He didn’t even get to finish.

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Sparky was already moving.

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"I got this! Watch this, Enny!" He bounced up, lined himself up, and dropped.

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The impact was catastrophic. His colossal ass slammed down with a WHUMP that shook the room, and the old wood didn't stand a chance—a sharp splintering CRACK, legs buckling outward. At the same instant his strained briefs tore clean in half with a loud rrriiip.

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Max had no time to react. Instead of being pancaked beneath several hundred pounds of hyper-curvy giant ass, he was suddenly launched up, right between Sparky’s massive, sweat-slick cheeks as the broken table collapsed around him. The two enormous, plush globes swallowed him whole in an instant, hot and damp and overwhelmingly soft. He was shoved deep into the humid, musky valley of Sparky’s crack, his tiny body pressed firmly between the slick, unwashed flesh as Sparky’s full weight settled.

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The sudden, crushing pressure knocked the air from Max’s lungs. Heat and sweat surrounded him on all sides. The smell was overwhelming — thick, cheesy, and intensely masculine, baked into Sparky’s skin from days without a proper shower.

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Sparky, for his part, let out a surprised yelp as the table shattered beneath him, then grinned sheepishly.

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“…Oops.”

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Benji was already howling with laughter, while Enny just stared at the scene with bright, fascinated eyes, clearly filing every detail away for later. Apollo looked faintly horrified, one hand half-raised like he wasn’t sure whether to try and intervene or simply pretend this wasn’t happening.

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And Max, buried in the hot dark, could only wheeze.

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Then, to add insult to injury, Sparky farted again.

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It wasn’t a quick, casual one. This was a long, wet, and absolutely massive BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP~ that rolled out directly into the tight space where Max was trapped. At this scale the sound was deafening, the blast hot and pressurized, the surrounding flesh trembling and clenching around him. The heat was instant and suffocating, the musk thick and ripe—the kind of fart that had been building for hours.

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Max’s entire world became nothing but hot, wet darkness and the acrid taste of Sparky’s ass. He gagged violently, eyes watering as the noxious cloud pressed in from every side. His lungs burned. His head spun. There was no escape — every desperate squirm only ground him deeper between the sweat-slick cheeks.

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He couldn’t take another second of this, let alone another full “contest” round with Benji.

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His hand shot out, slapping frantically at the hot flesh around him—the universal signal of surrender.

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"I tap out!" he wheezed, voice muffled. "I tap out! I give! Just—just let me stay with Sparky! Please! Just don't let the other one slam me too!"

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His voice cracked on the last word. The humiliation of begging to be claimed by one giant ass to avoid being crushed by another was almost worse than the smell currently choking him. But he meant it.

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Above him, Sparky’s voice came through the layers of flesh, bright and cheerful.

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“Aww, hear that? He wants to stay!” Sparky sounded genuinely pleased, like Max had just given him the best compliment of the day. “Guess he really is a butt guy after all. Cool. I’m keeping him then.”

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Without another word, Sparky pushed himself up off the wreckage of the coffee table. The sudden shift in pressure made Max’s ears pop as the cheeks parted slightly—only for Sparky to immediately turn and drop backward onto the couch instead. The impact was less violent than the table break, but still enough to drive Max deep between the massive, bare cheeks once more as Sparky settled in, legs spread comfortably.

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Benji snorted, eyes back on the screen. "You cheated and you know it. Doesn't count if you sat on him before the contest even started."

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“Still counts,” Sparky said, grabbing his controller like nothing had happened. He shifted his weight slightly, the motion grinding Max a little deeper into the hot, sweaty cleft. “He tapped out. Rules are rules.”

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“What the hell are you three doing in here?”

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A new voice cut through the game. The door had opened and shut without any of them noticing. Footsteps—lighter than the boys', but heavy enough that Max felt the vibrations through Sparky's body. From deep in the sweat-slick dark, everything came muffled, but clear enough to follow.

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"Hey Nima," Sparky said, not looking up. "Playing Sonic."

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"With a new friend," Benji added.

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A pause. Then Nima spoke again, closer and deeply suspicious: "…Why does it smell like someone hotboxed the room with ass in here? And what happened to the coffee table?"

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Enny perked up immediately, turning toward her with a bright, shameless smile.

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Enny turned to her, bright and shameless. "We found a tiny guy on the table. Action-figure tiny. Apollo thinks he blinked him here with his Angel Nav."

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Nima stepped closer. “…And?”

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Enny sounded genuinely cheerful as he continued. “Sparky and Benji both wanted him, so we had a contest. They were gonna take turns sitting on him and see who could make him tap out first. Sparky got impatient and just sat on him right away. Table broke. His underwear ripped. Tiny guy went straight up Sparky’s ass and tapped out pretty much immediately. So now he’s Sparky’s, I guess.”

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Another long pause.

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Nima’s voice came out strained. “…What?”

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Enny smirked. "What? He's fine. Lucky bastard."

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Apollo chimed in, worried. "I tried to suggest sending him back, or growing him, but they all said it was 'normal human stuff.'"

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Nima sighed—Max could picture her pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is exactly why I can't leave you people alone for five minutes."

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"If you're so worried," Enny said, teasing, "you can always peel him out of Sparky's ass yourself. He's still in there."

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Nima made a strangled, flustered noise. “I— what— no! I’m not— Jesus Christ, Enny. I’m not going anywhere near Sparky’s ass.”

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Sparky didn't look away from the TV. "He's good. He said he wanted to stay. Didn't you, little guy?" He wiggled his hips, grinding Max deeper, and let another low frrrrt~ slip out, leaving the trapped space even more oppressive.

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Max wheezed against the sweat-slick skin, barely able to breathe through the thick, cheesy aftermath of the last fart. He could hear everything. Nima was right there — the one person in this dorm who seemed even remotely concerned about his safety. Another chance. Another possible way out.

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Then he heard her sigh, long and exasperated.

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“I’m not dealing with this. You’re all insane.” Her voice was already moving away, heading toward the door. “I’m going back to my room. Clean up whatever’s left of the table. And try not to destroy anything else, okay?”

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The door clicked shut behind her.

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Max lay in the hot, suffocating dark, the giant's weight pressing down from above. The game went on. Laughter. Another casual fart. The occasional shift as Sparky got comfortable. Within minutes the three of them were fully back in—yelling about spin dashes, arguing over the last of the chips, letting out unapologetic farts that rattled the cushions. His begging, his surrender, his whole existence seemed to have slipped their minds. He was just there now, wedged in like a forgotten toy while the giants gamed around him, the heat and the wet rumbles a constant reminder of exactly where he'd landed.

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Max closed his eyes against the hot, sweaty darkness.

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He was going to have to get used to this.

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Whatever “this” was.