A Growing Concern Shrunken First Semester: Attack of the 200-Foot Gooner chapter 3 by maximally

 

For Max, the rest of the week blurred into a single long, humid nightmare.

 

Hazel kept him pressed between her cheeks for hours at a stretch while she gooned, researched, ate, and gooned again. The only real breaks came when she needed the bathroom. Even then she was “considerate” enough to set him on the tile instead of risking the toilet. The air in the bathroom was only marginally better than the air inside her ass, but Max sucked it down like it was pure oxygen.

 

He only got a look at the fridge because one night — he was no longer sure which — she left him on the desk long enough to turn his head without getting a cheek in the way. Unlike the rest of Hazel’s room, the top shelf of her mini-fridge was surprisingly well organized. A row of small green vials sat in a foam block, marked with dates and handwritten labels: H.B. / MASS REST. / DO NOT STACK. Considering how little effort she put into keeping anything else clean — Monster cans on their sides, a burrito fossilized to the rack, something unidentifiable weeping onto the crisper — Max could only assume that whatever she kept in those vials was important to her. The warning on the tape did nothing to explain what it was. When her shadow crossed the desk he looked away from the fridge like he’d been caught in a drawer that wasn’t his.

 

“That’s not snacks,” Hazel said, already reaching past him for a can. She spoke around a burp and went back to a paused tab. “Don’t bleed on my good shelf.”

 

Early in the week her gas knocked him out cold. By Friday it mostly left him coughing and dizzy. Hazel noticed, pleased, as if that were a skill he had chosen.

 

“You’re getting better at it,” she said.

 

Daisy did not come back. He told himself that was fine. He had asked for this arrangement because he thought it was temporary — a week of tests, then a body that matched the world, and only then would he have to decide what any of the rest of it had been. He could come back when he was normal. That was the whole idea. It sounded compassionate enough that he could believe it.

 

By the time the centrifuge finished processing his samples, Max was already starting to lose track of how many times he’d been smothered, farted on, and forced to watch Hazel cum.

 

Hazel double-clicked the results folder, adjusted her crooked glasses, and grinned.

 

“No way…”

 

Max, currently sitting on her mousepad in a drying film of her earlier juices, looked up. “What does it say?”

 

“It says this serum is one of mine.” She scrolled, humming. “Modular. No getting it out of your system once it’s in… but you can tweak the effects.”

 

Max’s heart jumped. “Does that mean there’s a way to get me back to normal?”

 

“Let’s find out.” Hazel opened a complicated calculator app and lazily hammered in equations. When the numbers came back she smiled in a way Max already disliked. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

 

“What?”

 

“According to my calculations it might be possible to synthesize a supplementary serum to get you back to normal. But it also might be possible to do something a little… different.”

 

Max froze. “L-like what?”

 

Hazel idly slipped a hand back down to her still-dripping sex. “How much do you know about chemistry?”

 

“Enough to be scared of your answer.”

 

She laughed, delighted, and hooked the fridge open with her heel. The clean rack sat in the wash of bad light like it had been waiting for him to notice it again. She plucked a green vial without looking at the label. She already knew which one it was.

 

 

“This is my stock,” she said, wiggling the vial at him. “Growth. I calibrated it off my mass, my metabolism, all that boring shit. If I drink it clean, I get the whole multiplier. Like thirty, forty times. You’re already full of shrink serum, though. So instead of running the whole program on you, it should just shove you back toward the size you started at. Factory settings.”

 

“Oh,” said Max, trying not to shudder. At six feet tall, Hazel was a lot. He could barely imagine what she’d be like at fifty, let alone two hundred.

 

He stared at the tape. DO NOT STACK. “And if you’re wrong?”

 

“Realistically? You die. Or nothing happens, and I put you back.” She shrugged, already flushed with the idea of being right. “If I take it clean, I get huge. You get… you. Probably.”

 

“I...” Max hesitated. While the idea of Hazel turning herself into some kind of massive, horny giantess didn’t exactly inspire optimistic thoughts, seven excruciating days in her care had left him very open to exploring alternative methods of getting back to normal. “Y-yeah, I guess. Would it be any faster than making a new antidote?”

 

“Duh. Antidote’s a whole project. This stuff is already mixed, stable, and sitting in my fridge.” She flicked the vial. “Juuust need to run a couple more simulations to make sure it doesn’t, y’know, kill you or anything. Any minute now, basically. You in, miniguy?”

 

When this worked, he told himself, he could walk back down the hall and talk to Daisy from a height that did not require a pocket. That was still the reason he had given himself for picking Hazel in the common room. He had said Hazel’s name so the problem would stay on the bench and stay temporary. He had not said Daisy’s. The person holding the vial was the one he had actually chosen.

 

As much as Max disliked the sound of that, he knew what he had to say if he wanted to end this nightmare. “Y-yeah, let’s do it.”

 

“Cool.” Hazel set the same vial back in the foam block, label out, and hooked him up off the mousepad. “Don’t wander off. I still gotta make sure this doesn’t, y’know, kill you.”

 

The check did not take an extra day. It took the rest of the evening, which in Hazel’s room meant the same thing it always meant. Feeling her sticky hand wrapping itself around him again, Max suppressed the urge to groan. He should have known that “making sure” was going to look like every other hour of the week.

 

When she finally pulled him back out, the green vial was still sitting in the rack where she had left it. She plucked it, swiveled her chair toward him, and grinned.

 

“Nice work, miniguy,” giggled Hazel, bringing the three-inch-tall freshman up to her lips and licking him a few times to get an extra taste of herself. “Factory settings. Let’s find out.”

 

As Hazel brought the comparatively huge container to Max’s lips, he wasted no time drinking as much as he could. The serum was easily the worst thing he’d ever tasted — harsh and bitter, with an immediate chemical aftertaste that only worsened with every sip — but he forced himself to keep going. Soon, he told himself, this would all be a strange, unpleasant memory.

 

“There you go.” Setting her shrunken assistant on the floor at her feet, Hazel giggled. “Alright. Any minute now.”

 

True to her word, Max was already feeling the serum starting to kick in. His head was pounding, every muscle in his body was on fire, and his heart felt like it was about to explode. Then, his vision began to blur. In another few seconds, he was out cold.

 

*

 

BBBRRRAAAAAPPPPPP

 

When Max woke up, someone was sitting on his face — someone with a very big, very soft, very dirty butt, not unlike Hazel’s. The fart that roused him from unconsciousness smelled suspiciously like one of hers, too. The only problem was that this woman was his size. Maybe a little bigger, especially around the hips and thighs, but not a giant like his buck-toothed captor.

 

“Ooo,” giggled the bottom-heavy woman who’d just farted on him, sensing his struggles and rolling her jiggling rump off of his head, “he’s awake!”

 

When his eyes adjusted to the room’s harsh gamer lighting, Max gasped. The woman who’d been sitting on him was, in fact, Hazel — now only a few inches taller than him. The tower was still a tower. The stained mattress still looked like a war crime. She still had the buck teeth and the crooked glasses and the greasy ponytail. She was just a chubby sophomore with a beer gut again, and when he shoved himself up on his elbows he could push against the carpet with palms that covered more than a stain.

 

“It worked,” he breathed, looking around the space that had become his prison for the last seven days. “Holy shit.”

 

“Yeah,” said Hazel, leaning down and stroking the stunned freshman’s chest. “Pretty fast, too. Listen, before we do me... maybe we can do a little celebrating?”

 

 

Meeting the gaze of the woman who’d just turned him into her full-time butt toy, Max knew his answer immediately. Before Hazel could say more, he sprung up and rushed over to the door, grabbing a dirty pair of sweatpants and a shirt from the floor on the way. He dressed himself, which last week would have required her fingers and a lot of patience he did not have. The waistband sat wrong and smelled like her, but it sat on a waist. The shirt had holes that found his arms without anyone threading him through. Behind him, the genius gooner almost looked upset — like he’d closed a tab she was still using — but that didn’t stop him from breaking into a full sprint down the hall.

 

Last week the hallway had been a canyon. Tonight it was just a hallway, and the difference was ordinary enough to sting. He crossed it in a few steps instead of a climb. The stairwell door had a handle he could pull down himself; last week that handle had been a horizontal bar over his head. A flickering exit sign was just something he passed under. He filled his lungs because the air was the hallway’s — weed, trash, someone else’s laundry — and not a sealed climate with her name on it.

 

Daisy was in the hall. She had a paper bag in one hand and her phone in the other, mid-shuffle toward her room, and she needed an extra second to understand the shape coming at her. Six-four of her still filled the corridor. He didn’t. He was just a guy in stolen sweats, which was exactly the height he had promised himself he would come back at. Recognition arrived a blink late, her mouth opening around a word that might have been his name. The bag crinkled. He had told himself he would stop and talk when he could stand next to her. He did not stop. He was already past her, and then the stairwell door was under his palm. A minute later he was back outside, filling his lungs with fresh air for the first time in a week.

 

Finally free from the torments of House Proserpina, Max’s mind buzzed with possibilities. First, he had to get back to his room and let everyone know he was alright. Then he’d find a phone, find out who shrank him, and press charges. Then, and only then, he would resume the collegiate life he’d been looking forward to all this time... but before he could do any of that, a huge rumbling noise from the direction of the Loser House — almost like some kind of controlled demolition — stopped him dead in his tracks.

 

When Max turned around, his jaw dropped. Just when he thought he’d escaped one living nightmare, he appeared to be entering another. Standing behind him, looming over the fresh wreckage of House Proserpina like some kind of all-powerful deity, was a 200-foot-tall giantess — and she looked exactly like Hazel.

 

He knew what she must have done. He’d left her standing in that room with the open fridge and a green rack she already understood. She must have grabbed her own vial the second the door closed behind him. The growth had taken less time than it took him to reach the quad. The house had failed before she finished standing up.

 

The collapse also buried the rest of the work: the remaining stock, the formula, the calibration data, the notebook, the drive. Nobody else was going to reproduce what she had just done. There was no second vial sitting in another fridge, and no copy of the notes that would let someone try.

 

“Oh, no,” whimpered Max, falling to his knees in sheer despair.

 

“Oh, yeah,” said Hazel, locking onto her assistant and grinning.

 

 

While every fiber of Max’s being was telling him to flee, he found himself completely frozen with awe. Every time Hazel took a step, the ground shook — and so did every inch of her colossal, naked figure. If the giant horny genius wasn’t so clearly dead-set on re-capturing him, he would have found her mountainous, jiggling curves undeniably hot. As it was, though, her presence inspired the same strange mix of fear and arousal that had been his reality since last Saturday. The only difference now was that everyone else at school was in the same boat.

 

He did the math anyway, because standing there hoping the last week had been a special case was not a plan. Two hundred feet of girl. Roughly thirty-five times his height. Even at five-foot-eight he occupied about the same relative scale a two-inch man would against a normal woman, which was why a grown body would still fit the place she stored phones. Her hand alone was now large enough to carry him the way a normal person carried a phone. The drop from that hand to the pavement would, as far as he could tell, do to a five-foot-eight body exactly what pavement always did. He had bones. Whatever else the serums had done to him, this was not a body he wanted tested on concrete.

 

As the rest of Ventus began to see, hear, and smell what was happening, the quad filled with panicked students and faculty. Staring up at the hulking female kaiju towering over every building on campus, most responded with a mix of blind terror and disbelief. Some screamed, others cried. Many simply took one look at her and, quite wisely, began running in the opposite direction. For Hazel, this was exactly the reception she’d been looking for — a scene straight out of her favorite hentai, made real.

 

PPPFFFOOOOOOOOOTTTTTT

 

“Ahhh,” giggled the buck-toothed giantess, stepping up to Max with her hands on her hips and grinning as she watched him — and everyone else in range — start to cough and gag on her latest fart. “There you are. Thought I lost ya!”

 

“S-sorry,” stammered Max, trying to accept the reality of what was happening without having a complete nervous breakdown. “I just really wanted to get back to my room and-”

 

Before Max could finish trying to talk himself away from Hazel, the giantess scooped him up the way a normal-sized person might pick up a paperclip. “You didn’t think I was gonna let you off the hook that easy, did you?” Raising him to her face, she smiled — undeniably warmly despite her newly even more imposing size. “I mean, you’re, like, the best assistant I’ve ever had! No one’s ever made me cum like you!”

 

While Max didn’t appreciate her saying this in public, he knew he had much larger problems to worry about at the moment. “O-oh, uh... thanks, I guess. I mean, I’m happy to keep in touch, but I was kinda hoping to, just, y’know. Relax? Let everyone know I’m alright?”

 

“Right now?” Hazel shook her head. “I don’t know, miniguy.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I mean, we’ve still got some celebrating to do, don’t we?”

 

Back in the hands of his giant captor, at a far more humiliating and unsettling scale than before, all Max could do was limply nod. Miniguy. He was a grown man with a voice that carried and a body that matched the world, and she was still calling him that.

 

By now, Max knew a lot of things about Hazel. She liked Monster Energy and Hot Cheetos, her top-searched porn categories were “miniguy” and “scat,” and she farted in her sleep — a lot. He also knew that when she was in the mood to celebrate, that meant one thing and one thing only. She did not wait until they reached the next building to put him back where she liked him. There was no sliding into a damp envelope this time. There was wedging. His shoulder caught on the inner slope of one cheek and stopped until she squeezed and made room that wasn’t room, only pressure. His knees had nowhere that wasn’t skin. The heat was wet and personal and exactly the climate he’d lived in for a week, except now his lungs were larger and the air still wasn’t air. Something in his lower back lit up in a bright, specific warning that three inches of him had never been organized enough to give. If she sat, the posture wouldn’t merely trap him. It would fold him.

 

She started walking, one hand already busy in front of her, humming, as if the week’s experiment had simply entered its next phase. Watching her carelessly stomping away from the wreckage of House Proserpina and toward the center of campus, he could only hope that all of his classmates had the common sense to escape while they still could.

 

“Sorry, guys,” giggled Hazel, bringing her foot down on top of several members of the football team — including one who’d spurned her advances the previous semester. “Big girl, comin’ through!”

 

With one hand free to circle her clit and the other occupied only when she needed to adjust him, the huge, horny giantess was having the time of her life. Not only had her new serum worked like a charm, but she’d also managed to destroy all the records of her research in the process of growing — meaning that it was going to be very, very difficult for anyone else to get her back to normal. Now, the only thing on her mind was finding a spot to settle down for a nice, long celebratory goon sesh — and when she laid her eyes on the school’s science building, she knew it was the perfect place to start.