Beach Day With Lillian Giantess/Shrinking & Farts chapter 4 by maximally

"Did any of you guys bring sunscreen?" Even buried under several hundred pounds of Lillian, Max registered Jen's voice loud and clear. "Cindy, looking at you."

"Yeah," Cindy piped up, "I got you."

Max grimaced. Of all the places where Lillian dragged him on outings with her friends, the beach was quite possibly his least favorite. He'd never been a beach guy, even before shrinking—and given that every trip out here with the Oliveiras either started or ended with him being crushed under any number of big, gassy butts, the last twelve months had done nothing to change that.

As usual, the ride to the coast was pure torment. Lillian's yoga pants were a slick, damp prison, molded perfectly to the immense curves of her ass—and every bump in the road only pressed him even deeper into the suffocating confines of her crack. Pop music blared from the radio, and Lillian sang along off-key, her voice a booming vibration that traveled through her whole body, including him. He could still hear the others, too—Jen trying to backseat drive with GPS, Cindy crunching on tortilla chips, and Blaise occasionally chiming in with snarky commentary. The fact that all three girls had no problem hotboxing the car with stink for the duration of the drive — and forbade Blaise from cracking the window — didn't help.

After what felt like an eternity, the car finally stopped—and when the engine cut and the music shut off, Max could just barely register the distant sound of waves.

"Alright, we're here!" Lillian announced, unbuckling her seatbelt. "So... am I the only one who needs to get changed?"

"Changed?" Blaise pressed a hand to his forehead. "Shit... I forgot my trunks."

*

The beach's sole restroom was on the far side of the parking lot, a faded structure of damp concrete and peeling paint. Lillian led the way inside, her sandals slapping against the wet floor as she pushed open the door to the last stall in the women's room. Jen and Cindy filed into the other two, their voices bouncing off the tiles.

"Ugh, it smells like chlorine in here," Jen scoffed. 

brrrrttttt

"How about now?" Cindy giggled, wrinkling her nose as the smell of her latest fart began to fill the space. "Your move, Lil."

"Don't give me any ideas," said Lillian, latching the stall door behind her. Reaching a hand down the back of her yoga pants, she plucked Max out and set him down on the cold, curved plastic of the toilet seat. "How's the view down there, Max?"

Max stayed mute. Of course, from his current perspective, Lillian was just as much of a breathtaking titan as ever — especially as she turned to bend over her beach bag, stretching her neon pink yoga pants to their absolute limits — but he knew that any response would just encourage her. 

"You know," she purred, glancing over her shoulder and flashing a grin as she started to peel down her pants. "Most guys would pay good money for a private show like this."

Max was powerless to keep his eyes from going wide. The fabric clung to Lillian's skin with a long car ride's worth of sweat, revealing inch after inch of milk-pale skin and the deep, shadowed crack of her ass. Her thong followed, snapping against her legs as she slid out of it, leaving the glorious expanse of her lower half completely exposed.

"Hello? Earth to Max?" She cooed, swaying her hips—a slow, hypnotic grind that seemed to make the air itself stir.

Beneath her, Max swallowed hard. Lillian's naked ass, pale and impossibly vast, eclipsed his entire world. The scent of her — a mix of sun-warmed skin, synthetic cotton and the deeply personal, sour-sweet aroma that had been baking into him all morning — washed over him, thick and suffocating. He could only stare, a tiny, speechless prisoner at the altar of her effortless greatness.

She bent over again. Her back arched, her hands planted on her knees, and her ass rose up to hover right over him. The intimate, shadowed cleft of her rump was now squarely at eye level with him, a dark, fragrant valley that pulsed with latent power.

"Lillian, you good in there?" Jen's voice was tinged with knowing amusement. "Cindy and I are good to go when you are."

"One sec," Lillian called back, oddly strained—like she was concentrating on something. Then, her stomach issued a deep, liquid gurgle. Her muscles tensed, her buttocks tightening.

"Uh oh," Cindy chimed in. "Hold on, Max!"

BBBRRRUUUUUMMMMMBLLLLLE-PPPWWWWAAARRRPP!

Right on cue, Lillian let loose with a wet, thunderous blast of gas, hitting Max with the force of a hurricane. The sheer volume was deafening, and the physical force was nearly enough to send him falling into the toilet. Of course, as always, the real star of the show was the smell—a vicious, sour punch of digested beans, dairy and burrito that stole the air from his lungs and made his eyes water.

"God damn, Lillian!" Jen waved a hand in front of her face. "That's heinous! Even for you!"

"Eww, I can taste that!" Cindy giggled. "C'mon, Jen, let's get outta here!"

Lillian straightened up, sighing with clear satisfaction, then glanced back at Max—down on his knees, gagging, trying desperately to rid his lungs of her potent fumes. Chuckling, she reached down, picked him up and stuffed him back into the warm, familiar darkness of her crack. Then came the final layer of his prison, the tight grip of her bikini bottoms. She gave her hips a final shake to get him into optimal position, then turned to join her friends outside.

"C'mon, fart boy," she said, unlatching the stall door. "Let's go get some sun."

*

Over the next hour or two, Max settled into a predictable cycle of crushing weight and sweltering heat, punctuated by volcanic eruptions of gas. Meanwhile, outside, life went on. He could make out snippets of conversation — Jen coaxing a blushing Blaise to put sunscreen on her back, Cindy infodumping about some new anime she'd gotten into, Lillian bragging about her tan — but never got to participate. He was an afterthought, brought along and instantly forgotten, only good for absorbing farts and acting as the butt of jokes. 

It was Blaise who finally, mercifully intervened, just as the girls were gearing up to go swimming—probably because he had to stay behind and wanted some company. "Hey, Lil? Why don't you leave Max back here with me?"

"Aww, you worried about your widdle friend?" Lillian cooed, giving her sizeable rump a good wiggle for her best friend's benefit.

"C'mon," Blaise persisted, trying to avoid staring at Lillian's ass. "Haven't you had him in there long enough? It's gotta be, like, a hundred and twenty degrees in there."

For a moment, there was silence. "Ugh, fine," Lillian relented, as if she were agreeing to a great inconvenience. "But only because you asked so nicely."

With a final dramatic sigh, the Brazilian amazon dipped her fingers into her bikini bottom and plucked him out. "Don't get used to this," she warned, emerald eyes glinting, before unceremoniously depositing her trembling captive into Blaise's waiting palm.

For Max, the change was profound. Blaise's grip was careful and respectful, and the air outside was fresh and clear.

"You okay, dude?" Blaise asked, watching as Lillian, Jen, and Cindy bounced off toward the water.

Max just nodded, still breathing heavily. "Air," he wheezed. "So much air."

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Blaise winced sympathetically. "Lillian, uh… she gets carried away."

Max nodded. For him, this felt like the understatement of the century—but he wasn't about to start finding fault in his first moment of peace all day.

"Here," Blaise looked around, then set Max down on the sand in front of him. "You wanna build a sandcastle?"

"Sure," said Max, shrugging. "I could do that."

With that, the two young men set to work. Blaise focused on the main structure, packing and molding wet sand into a large, lumpy fortress with four uneven towers. Meanwhile, Max focused on finer details—climbing up onto the castle's walls and battlements to add in things like windows, doors and crenelations. The sun was warm on his tiny form, the sound of the waves was a lot nicer than the gurgling of Lillian's bowels, and soon enough, lost in the task at hand, he almost forgot where he was. For the first time in weeks, perhaps months, he didn't feel like a prisoner or a toy. He was just a guy building a sandcastle with a friend.

Blaise watched him work, a faint smile on his face. "You're pretty good at that." 

"Thanks," said Max, not looking up from his work on a tiny crest for the castle's highest tower. "I used to be big into crafting games before all this."

"Before all what?" Blaise looked confused.

"You know," Max sighed, gesturing to himself and grimacing. "This."

"Oh." Blaise's smile faded. "Sorry." He hesitated, clearly mentally kicking himself. “Look, man… about this whole… Zuemy thing. I've been meaning to talk to her. It's just… complicated."

Max stopped his work and looked up at Blaise's looming face. He saw something like remorse, but also a whole lot of noncommittal. He understood Blaise was a good guy—but he was definitely not the savior he needed right now. Especially when he was up against a force of nature like Lillian, let alone her mom or Jordana.

"It's always complicated, Blaise," Max sighed. "I'm three inches tall and I live in a terrarium that smells like stale farts. My whole life is a complication."

"I know," said Blaise, running a hand through his messy black hair. "But… I don't know. Maybe it's not all bad? I mean, you've got… You know… a place to live. And… uh…” He floundered, searching for a silver lining.

"I get to live in a house with a bunch of big, sexy women?" Max offered dryly. 

"Yeah! I mean…" Blaise sighed, giving up. "Never mind. Bad pep talk. My bad."

"KAIJU ATTACK!!!" Suddenly, a booming cry from the water shattered their moment of relative normalcy.

Both young men turned to find Lillian charging out of the surf like a pale, bottom-heavy goddess. Water streamed from her body, her bikini straining heroically against her colossal frame. Her emerald eyes were locked on the castle, and a playful, wicked grin was spreading across her face. Jen and Cindy followed behind her, laughing and shaking their heads, well aware of what was coming.

Blaise started to shake his head, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. "Lillian! Don't you da—!"

It was too late. With a joyful whoop, Lillian leapt into the air—and for a terrifying moment, the twin globes of her ass seemed to blot out the sun itself. Max could only stare in terror, frozen in place atop his meticulously detailed tower.

She came down butt-first with a force that shook the sand, utterly obliterating the castle. The walls exploded outwards, the towers looked like they'd been vaporized—and in the center of the action, Max found himself buried under his giant captor once again. With a few good shifts of Lillian's hips, he ended up nestled in the deepest, darkest part of her ass crack, and the heat, smell and pressure were all predictably intense. Then, he heard another low, liquid gurgle—more ominous than any tidal wave.

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

The fart that followed made all her previous emissions of the day look like nothing — a full-on ten-second explosion — and for Max, it was downright apocalyptic. The air grew thick and toxic, and it quickly became impossible for him to take a breath that didn't come straight from his giant captor's digestive system. His world dissolved into a hurricane of burning, sulfuric, bean-dip-scented anguish as he was smothered, blasted, and marinated in the humid, rancid aftermath—and because the gas had nowhere else to go, it took at least a minute to dissipate.

Only then did the big, lazy, chaotic giantess relent, rolling off and collapsing onto her side in a fit of giggles. Beside the wreckage, Blaise shook his head in disbelief—and when Jen and Cindy caught up, they seemed similarly impressed. If the initial impact of Lillian's butt hadn't destroyed the castle, her follow-up fart got rid of the rest, scattering whatever remained of Blaise and Max's work like a one-woman hurricane and saturating the sand with a level of stink that would probably stick around for several hours to come.

"Oh, my god, Lillian!" Jen's H-cup breasts heaved with laughter. "You totally flattened that thing!"

"Some Kaiju attack!" Cindy pushed her glasses up her nose, snorting. "That dumb castle didn't even put up a fight!"

The girls' laughter echoed down the beach, a cruel soundtrack to Max's absolute humiliation. He simply sat there in his sandy, stinking pit, too defeated to even move. Wherever the day would take him from here, he doubted it would make up for this.