Shrunk! Shrunken First Semester: Lost in the Loser House chapter 1 by maximally

Max woke up with his face mashed against something cold, hard, and strangely textured. His head throbbed, his muscles ached, and his stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself. The lingering taste of stale beer and something thicker, sweeter, and vaguely chemical clung to his dry mouth. When he tried to open his eyes, the light stabbed straight through his skull.

 

He had no idea how long he’d been out or where he was. The only thing he knew for certain was the date: Saturday, September 30th. One month into his first semester of college, things weren’t exactly going the way he’d hoped.

 

He’d spent senior spring fantasizing about freedom, new people, wild parties, maybe even a girlfriend. So far he’d barely passed his classes, hadn’t tried out for anything, and hadn’t made any friends besides his roommate Zeke — who was stuck with him either way. Zeke was the same brand of dorky gamer and anime addict, just better-looking and already a campus social butterfly, racking up house party invites and never missing a chance to rub it in. Until last night Max hadn’t been invited to a single party. Whenever he wasn’t in class he hid in his room and told himself the breakthrough would come later.

 

Ventus still had the bones of the women’s college it used to be: four girls to every guy, and a House System that ate the whole social world. As a guy he was locked out of joining. His only shot was befriending house girls, which, for someone who still got tongue-tied talking to any woman who wasn’t a blood relative, was a tall order.

 

Yesterday afternoon Zeke had been waiting with a different message. He was heading to another party, and this time he’d gotten permission to bring Max. Faced with a new social situation and only his roommate for backup, Max did what a lot of anxious, introverted college guys would do. Egged on by Zeke, he pre-gamed. By the time they left, the less experienced drinker of the two had more liquid courage than he knew what to do with.

 

Fourteen hours later all he had was the hangover from hell and a complete blank where the rest of the night should have been.

 

Then he opened his eyes properly.

 

He wasn’t in his dorm. He was completely naked. And he was tiny — action-figure tiny, lying on a giant coffee table beside pencils and a half-empty Red Bull can that towered over him like a silo. Three inches, maybe less.

 

Like any modern teenager he’d seen plenty of news stories about people getting dosed at college parties. He’d never heard of anything like this.

 

“This can’t be happening…”

 

He’d picked Ventus for the ratio. Four-to-one. A girlfriend was supposed to be math. Not this.

 

The air hit him next: stale weed, old takeout, sweat, and something thicker, sweeter, and unmistakably eggy — the smell of pure, unwashed ass. To his right, cabinets of cum-stained anime figurines and sex toys of every shape and size. To his left, deflated bean bags, many with visible skid marks. Behind him a ratty futon buried under spicy chip bags, more energy drink cans, and a small mountain of used tissues. The walls were papered with posters. He recognized Loona from Helluva Boss and Lucario. The rest were a mix of anthro girls and anime he couldn’t place.

 

There was only one place on campus that looked — and smelled — like this. House Proserpina: the Loser House. Mandated to exist by a line in the school’s founding charter, it was the dumping ground for problem cases the other houses didn’t want. Academic Recovery scholarships and willful admin neglect kept the gooners, femcels, and shut-ins walled off so they wouldn’t taint Ventus’s public image. If the jocks in House Diana were the strongest students on campus, the nerds in Minerva the smartest, the goths in Juno the scariest, and the e-girls and influencers in Fortuna the hottest, the femcels in Proserpina were simply the grossest.

 

Half the girls here never left their rooms. The ones he’d seen around campus were not the first people he’d want to meet like this. He still needed help. Hallway or stay put — he was still gaming it out when the door opened behind him.

 

The smell thickened. Hotter. More personal.

 

Daisy “Buttzilla” Flores filled the doorway.

 

He’d never seen her, but she matched every orientation rumor. Six-four, three hundred and fifty pounds, monstrous curves: gut, breasts like watermelons, legs like tree trunks, an ass at least three feet wide. Faded gray sweatpants, ratty t-shirt, and flip-flops looked hopelessly distorted under her. Dark patches of moisture bloomed along every crease. Greasy hair, acne, sleep deprivation — and under all of it a round, warm face, full lips, tan skin, big brown eyes, long dark hair that would have been undeniably cute if she’d ever put in the effort. That did nothing for the unease in his gut, or the harsh eggy aroma already drifting down to him. That matched the other rumor: worst-smelling person on campus.

 

She yawned, jaw cracking, and scratched lazily at her massive ass. The fabric pulled tight. A faint, wet prrt escaped her — small, but from three inches it was a low rumble that made the air itself feel thicker.

 

Max couldn’t move. The floorboards creaked. Her shadow made him feel smaller than three inches. Coffee table, center of the room: hard to miss. Drop to the floor and maybe break both legs, or get on her radar. He was still weighing which death would be less humiliating when her voice cut through — soft, almost shy.

 

“Oh my gosh…”

 

Then she was on him.

 

Dark. Hot. Wet. Face buried in a dense thatch of coarse pubic hair soaked with sweat, then the fat, swollen, filthy reality of her pussy. Thick folds parted around his head. Hot viscous juices coated his face, chest, arms. Ripe fermented musk, days-old sweat, the tang of a girl who didn’t bother with daily showers. Thick enough to taste. Or drown in.

 

“Please,” he sputtered. “Let me go…”

 

She couldn’t hear him. He was a squirming weight against the most sensitive part of her. She shivered. A low sound rumbled in her chest.

 

When she pulled her hand out of her waistband he was left clinging to a thick strand of pubic hair, legs dangling over the hot slimy entrance of her cunt, already soaked to the bone in her.

 

She walked. Each step sent ripples through her. He swung with the sway of her hips, face bumping and dragging against her. Friction, heat, fresh slick. Lungs burning. Tiny cock traitor-hard against her skin.

 

Lewder dorm mates, usual blend of apathy and horniness:

 

“Hey, Buttzilla. When are you gonna let me eat that fat ass?”

 

“Not today.”

 

“Sup, B-Z. I just got a new vibrator. You wanna come help me test it out?”

 

“Busy.”

 

“Yo, Flores! You around tonight? Just torrented this crazy new hentai series—”

 

“Later.”

 

Voice flat. Body not. Thighs rubbing, grinding him harder. Wetter. Slipping.

 

By her door his grip was failing, face glazed, seconds from falling down the pant leg. She slipped inside and closed it.

 

Then a hand peeled him off.

 

Her room: two full beds shoved into a king, nightstand of lube and toys, desk sagging under laptop and figurines, floor of dirty clothes, chip bags, pizza boxes, delivery containers. Walls double-layered with thick anthro girls, giantess vore, fart comics, hentai that made his stomach twist. Windows that looked like they hadn’t opened in years. Her own swampy microclimate.

 

Then warmer. Stinkier.

 

BBBBBBRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP

 

Rotten eggs, spoiled dairy, the deep greasy funk of a girl who held nothing back. He gagged, coughing, as the cloud hit.

 

“Oh!” She brought him to eye level. Face bright red. “S-sorry about that, little guy.”

 

Him: naked, dripping, dangling. Her: exhausted, guilty, strangely shy for someone who had just hotboxed him with the worst fart of his life.

 

“I didn’t want anyone else seeing you out there. I’m Daisy. What’s your name?”

 

Brain still rebooting. Pants, pussy, pubes, crop-dust. No words.

 

She winced at the slime still coating him. “Oh! Here, let me…”

 

Thumb, careful, a little clammy, wiping the worst off his face and hair. She set him on the nightstand beside the half-empty lube and the huge funky toys.

 

“D-Don’t eat me!” He scrambled. “Please!”

 

Her face fell. “Eat you? Why would I—” She saw the terror and sighed. “Look… I don’t know what you’ve heard about me. But I’m probably the best person who could’ve found you in this house.”

 

“You… you shoved me in your—” He nodded at the front of her sweatpants.

 

“I know. I’m sorry. I panicked. You know how the girls here are. If any of them had seen an unattended tiny guy, they would’ve…” She didn’t finish.

 

“Couldn’t you have just put me in your pocket?”

 

Eyes down. Voice smaller. “I had to scent you. Just to be safe. It’s how it works here. If you smell like me — really smell like me — everyone else knows you’re claimed. They won’t touch you. Like calling dibs. So nobody tries to take you or use you while I figure out what to do.”

 

“So you marked me. With your…”

 

Blush to the ears. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I know it’s super weird and gross. I just didn’t want anything bad to happen to you before I could even talk to you.”

 

Buttzilla. Living legend. Shoulders hunched, apologizing because protection in this house looked like this.

 

“It’s… fine. I guess. My name’s Max.”

 

Relief. Small nervous smile. “Nice to meet you, Max. Officially. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe I can make it up to you?”

 

“…How?”

 

Eyes toward the bed. Mattress creak. “Want me to clean you off?”

 

“I… s-sure. Where’s the bathroom?”

 

She shook her head. “You really don’t wanna go in there.” Almost said more. Didn’t. “I was thinking something a little more hands-on. Maybe it’s just easier if I show you.”

 

Before Max could ask what that meant, her huge hand closed around him again.

 

He barely had time to yelp before she lifted him. For one terrifying second he was sure she was bringing him to her mouth to eat him. His struggles only made her fingers tighten.

 

“Wait—Daisy, no—DAISY!”

 

Her lips parted.

 

The heat hit him first.

 

Then the wet.

 

Her mouth closed around him like a hot, slick cave. Max’s entire world became darkness, humid breath, and the overwhelming presence of her tongue. It was massive — thick, soft, and shockingly agile. It slid beneath him, lifting his tiny body and pressing him against the roof of her mouth. Sour, slightly sweet saliva flooded over him in waves, coating every inch of his skin as her tongue began to work.

 

It wasn’t gentle.

 

Daisy’s tongue curled around him, dragging slowly from his feet to his head, then back again. It pressed between his legs, rubbing insistently. Every time it found his cock, Max’s whole body jerked. The sensation was too much — too hot, too wet, too intimate. He could feel the texture of her taste buds, the way her saliva clung to him, thick and viscous.

 

“Mmm,” purred Daisy, settling into bed and sneaking a hand into the front of her sweatpants, savoring the taste of her helpless plaything and feeling herself getting wetter by the second. Max tasted good. Better than any of her usual fantasies. He was real. He was moving. He was making these tiny, helpless noises every time her tongue dragged over his cock again.

 

She pressed him harder against the roof of her mouth and sucked gently.

 

Max’s mind was fracturing.

 

Part of him was still screaming in terror. This was Buttzilla. He was in her mouth. She could swallow him without even trying. But another, much louder part of him was lost in the heat and the pressure and the way her tongue kept returning to his cock like it was the only thing that mattered. He was moaning openly now, hips twitching against the slick muscle.

 

“Daisy—fuck—Daisy, I—”

 

“Mmmhh…” The vibration of her voice rolled through his entire body. She was touching herself harder now, legs spreading wider on the bed. She licked him in slow, deliberate strokes, tasting every inch of him while her fingers worked frantically between her own thighs.

 

Max couldn’t hold it.

 

The orgasm hit him so hard his vision whited out. He came against her tongue with a broken cry, his whole body seizing up as pulse after pulse of cum was immediately washed away in her saliva.

 

Daisy felt it.

 

The tiny, desperate twitching. The way he went rigid against her tongue. It pushed her over the edge.

 

Her thighs clamped together around her hand. Her back arched. A deep, muffled moan vibrated through her mouth as she came — hard. The bed shook beneath her. For one terrifying second her throat worked like she was about to swallow on instinct.

 

Max felt it. The way her tongue pressed him back. The sudden tightening of everything around him.

 

Then she stopped herself.

 

With shaking hands, Daisy carefully reached into her mouth and pulled him out. Thick strands of saliva and his own cum stretched between his body and her lips. She was panting, face flushed dark, eyes glassy. Very gently, she placed him on the warm, soft swell of her chest, just above her breasts.

 

For another long moment, neither of them spoke.

 

Max lay there in a puddle of her spit, chest heaving, staring up at the ceiling. He was even slimier than before. His whole body tingled with aftershocks. That was supposed to be a first kiss with someone who could hold his hand. His mouth still tasted like her.

 

Daisy was the first to break the silence.

 

“Wow,” she breathed.

 

“Yeah,” Max managed. His voice sounded distant. “Wow.”

 

She hesitated. “…Was that, uh… your first time? Like, with anyone?”

 

Max swallowed. “Yeah. It was.”

 

Daisy went quiet for a second. Then, very softly: “Same.”

 

He turned his head to look at her. She was staring at the ceiling, one arm thrown over her eyes. Her face was still red.

 

“I… I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I was supposed to be cleaning you off, and…” Her voice cracked a little. “I almost forgot you were a person. I just get so pent up sometimes, and when you’re that small, and you taste like that, and you’re moving on my tongue, I just—”

 

“Hey.” Max’s voice was surprisingly steady. “It’s okay.”

 

Daisy lowered her arm and looked at him, surprised.

 

“I mean it,” he said. “I… I got off too. Like, really hard. I’m not gonna lie and say it wasn’t kinda intense, but…” He felt his own face heating up. “It felt good. You made it feel good.”

 

She blinked at him, genuinely taken aback. “You’re not just saying that because you’re scared of me?”

 

Max let out a weak laugh. “I mean, I am scared of you. A little. But I’m also not lying.”

 

Daisy’s expression softened into something small and vulnerable. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but before she could, her body betrayed her again.

 

Prraaaaaapppppp

 

The fart was quieter than the last one, but no less potent. A hot, eggy wave rolled up from between her legs and hit Max directly in the face. He coughed hard, waving a hand in front of his nose.

 

Daisy went scarlet. “Sorry. I thought that one would be quieter.”

 

“It’s fine,” Max wheezed, still coughing. “I’m… getting used to it.”

 

She looked mortified, but also strangely touched when he didn’t freak out. After another moment she gave him a small, shy smile — the warmest one yet.

 

“You’re really nice, you know that?”

 

Max smiled back, still a little dizzy. “I try.”

 

They lay there in silence for a few more seconds. Then Daisy spoke again.

 

“So, uh… speaking of kissing. Would you wanna… maybe do that again? The mouth thing, I mean. Or, like… actual kissing. With me. If you want.”

 

Max knew he should probably say no. He knew this was insane. He knew that getting involved with the most infamous girl in House Proserpina was probably the worst decision he could make while three inches tall and completely at her mercy.

 

But his body was still buzzing. And when he looked at her — flushed, embarrassed, hopeful, and trying so hard not to be the monster everyone said she was — he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

 

“…Sure.”

 

Daisy’s face lit up. “C-cool!”

 

She picked him up carefully and brought him to her lips. This time she didn’t put him in her mouth right away. She pressed him gently against them, letting him feel the softness, the warmth. Then she kissed him — really kissed him. Her lips moved against his tiny body, slow and surprisingly tender at first.

 

Max kissed back as best he could, pressing his hands and face against her lower lip.

 

Daisy made a soft, needy sound and kissed harder.

 

Her tongue slid out, warm and slick, and dragged slowly across his face and chest. She wasn’t trying to be careful anymore. She was lost in it again — the feeling of someone kissing her back, of having a real person respond to her instead of just her own hand and a bag of gummy bears. She licked him again, slower this time, savoring the taste of his skin mixed with her own saliva.

 

Max gasped against her mouth, overwhelmed all over again.

 

She held him there, pinned gently between her lips and tongue, breathing hard through her nose. For a few long, breathless moments, neither of them moved.

 

By the time Daisy loosened her grip and pulled back, Max was shaking. His whole body felt wrung out — lips tingling, skin still wet with her saliva, heart hammering against his ribs.

 

“T-thank you,” he managed, voice shaky but sincere. “That was… amazing.”

 

Daisy smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was something sad behind it now. “Yeah. You too.”

 

She hesitated, then carefully set him down on her chest again. For a moment she just looked at him, chewing on her bottom lip like she was working up the courage to say something.

 

“Listen, uh… before we go any further, there’s something you should probably know.”

 

Max’s stomach dropped. After everything that had already happened today, he wasn’t sure he could handle more bad news. “What is it?”

 

Daisy took a deep breath, her massive chest rising beneath him. “I’m guessing you’ve never heard of shrinking serum?”

 

“Uh… no. Can’t say I have.”

 

“It’s pretty niche. Really expensive if you buy it, but a few girls around here make their own batches. You slip a little into someone’s drink and they wake up tiny the next day.” She paused. “There’s always a couple guys like you who end up in here every semester.”

 

Max went very still.

 

The idea that this wasn’t some random, one-in-a-million accident should have been comforting. Instead, the way Daisy was saying it made his skin prickle with dread.

 

“Here as in… Proserpina?” he asked carefully. “What happens to them?”

 

Daisy winced. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. “They get claimed. The problem is… most of the serums the girls make are permanent.”

 

The words hit him like a physical blow.

 

“You mean…” Max’s voice came out small. “I’m stuck like this? Forever?”

 

The internship tab on his laptop. The undeclared major. The 5'8" body he’d spent years calling average. All of it sitting in a dorm that still thought he was coming back.

 

Daisy didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him with those tired brown eyes, full of quiet guilt.

 

“I’m really, really sorry, Max.”

 

For a few seconds Max couldn’t speak.

 

All morning the one thing that had kept him from completely falling apart was the desperate, stubborn hope that this was temporary. That he could find a way back to normal. That he could still have the college life he’d spent years fantasizing about — classes, parties, maybe even a girlfriend someday.

 

Now that fragile hope was gone.

 

He sat down heavily on the warm curve of her breast, staring at nothing. His old life — his body, his future, every plan he’d ever made — had been erased in one night by some bored chemistry major with a god complex. And the best-case scenario was apparently becoming the live-in pet of the single grossest, loneliest girl in the entire sorority.

 

Daisy must have seen the devastation on his face, because she rushed to fill the silence.

 

“But it could be worse!” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “At least I found you first, right? If you stick with me, I can keep you safe. No one else in the house will mess with you if they know you’re mine — I mean, if they know you’re with me.”

 

Max looked up at her. “Here? In this room? Forever?”

 

“Well… yeah.” Daisy rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly self-conscious. “We could do stuff together. Play games, watch movies, hang out… make out some more, if you want. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’d take care of you.”

 

“Forever,” he repeated quietly.

 

Daisy’s shoulders slumped. “I mean… I’m happy to ask around. See if anyone knows how to reverse it. I’m just saying, based on what I’ve seen… I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high.”

 

Max swallowed hard and forced himself to nod. Falling apart completely wouldn’t help anything. And no matter how bleak this was, Daisy was still the only person in this entire building who seemed to actually give a shit about whether he lived or died.

 

“Okay,” he said, voice rough. “So… what now?”

 

Daisy thought for a moment, one finger tapping against her chin. “Well… I guess we could see if Hazel’s around.”

 

Max’s head snapped up. “Hazel? As in, Hazel Berry?”

 

“Yeah.” Daisy made a face. “She’s… a lot. But she’s also the smartest person I know. And she’s a chem major. If anyone in this house might know something about the serum, it’s her.”

 

Max had heard the infamous sophomore’s name before. Usually whispered, usually followed by phrases like “stay the fuck away from her” or “she got banned from three different Discord servers for being too unhinged.”

 

Still.

 

If there was even a chance she could help…

 

“You think she’d actually help me?” he asked.

 

Daisy shrugged. “She might. Or she might try to turn you into one of her experiments. It’s kind of a coin flip with her.” She gave him a small, crooked smile. “But she likes me. And if I ask her nicely, she’ll probably at least hear us out.”

 

Max took a shaky breath. The idea of putting his fate in the hands of another Proserpina girl made his stomach twist. But sitting here doing nothing while his old life slipped further away felt even worse.

 

“…Alright. Let’s go see her.”

 

“Cool.” Daisy sat up carefully, cupping one hand behind him so he didn’t tumble off her chest. “I’m guessing you don’t want to go back in my underwear for the walk over?”

 

Max let out a weak laugh despite everything. “Yeah. Maybe not.”

 

“Fair.” She gently picked him up and, after a moment’s consideration, slid him carefully into the right front pocket of her sweatpants. The fabric was warm, a little damp, and smelled strongly of her. “Here we go. Try not to fall out.”

 

Max sank into the pocket, surrounded by the heat of her thigh and the constant, heavy sway of her body as she stood up. Every step made the fabric shift around him. He could feel the powerful muscles of her leg flexing, the faint jiggle of her thigh with each step, and underneath it all, the ever-present musk of her unwashed body clinging to the inside of the pocket.

 

Daisy paused at the door, one hand resting protectively over the pocket like she was making sure he was still there.

 

Then she stepped out into the hallway.