Hazel Gets Off
Shrunken First Semester: Attack of the 200-Foot Gooner
chapter 4
by
maximally
Thanks to several lavish alumni donations, the Math & Science Center was one of the biggest and most well-appointed buildings at Ventus. Following its latest renovation, the vast reinforced concrete structure had been deemed “100% earthquake-proof” by California’s highest civic authorities, and had won several prestigious architecture awards for its innovative ventilation system. This made it a prime destination for students and faculty members during natural disasters and emergencies — and based on the several hundred people who had already crowded inside twenty minutes after Proserpina came down, today was no different.
For Hazel, the MSC had always held a unique significance as the first place she’d ever jacked off at Ventus. Halfway through her very first class of freshman year, unable to contain her desires for a full hour around so many hot young people her age, she’d rushed into the nearest bathroom to rub one out and had ended up spending the rest of the afternoon in there on her phone. Now, she could think of no better spot to commemorate her newfound status as the biggest person on campus — if not the whole world.
“Oh my god,” she said, delighted, looking down at the plaza the way she looked at a full sample rack. “That’s the building.”
Max still had a mouth, and between clenches he had just enough air to use it. “Hazel. There are people. The roof — look at the roof. I can talk to them. I can tell them to go out the back—”
“I am looking,” Hazel said. “This is like, commemorative.”
“That’s not — put me down—”
“You’re fine,” she said, and she said it the way she said most things that were already decided. “Hold still.”
Lumbering over to the MSC and smirking at all the people pouring in, she turned around and settled her huge rump down on top, flattening half of the built-in roof deck — and everyone unlucky enough to be on it — in one fell swoop. For those who’d made it into the building, the impact of the pear-shaped giantess’s ass rivaled any earthquake — and what happened next was even worse.
Someone on the surviving lip of the roof — a girl in a Ventus hoodie, phone still up — looked straight into the cleft and saw a man in there. Not a rumor. A person. Her mouth opened.
“GET OUT THE BACK,” Max yelled. His voice was a grown man’s voice. It reached her. For one second she was proof that yelling could still matter. She grabbed the kid next to her and shoved him at the stairwell hatch that was still a hatch. The kid went through. Max saw the sneakers vanish.
Hazel shifted to get comfortable. The hatch disappeared under the other cheek. The girl in the hoodie did not.
BBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPP
Because Hazel’s butt was settled squarely over the MSC’s primary air vents, most of her latest fart was absorbed by the building’s ventilation system. The MSC had been designed to circulate and scrub huge volumes of air. That made it excellent for smoke and ordinary contaminants and disastrous with the intake pinned directly under her. While the people inside were counting on this system to protect them from Hazel’s various odors, the telltale eggy smell that began wafting down from every duct shortly after the blast gave them plenty of cause for concern — but only a few were smart enough to flee out the back exit before her weapons-grade digestive system unleashed a second round.
Max had spent a week learning hers. His eyes still burned and his stomach still rolled, but his body had stopped treating every blast like a knockout punch. An ordinary full-sized person would already have been down. A week of exposure and whatever the shrinking serum had left in him were the only reasons he was still awake to watch it happen.
BBBBBBBRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPP
Hazel’s next fart was even less forgiving — longer, louder and smellier than the last, and even more destructive. Rippling through the already-weakened ductwork of the MSC and pushing all 1000 of the vent system’s HEPA filters to the edge of failure, the giant gooner’s rancid gas invaded every inch of the building’s interior, making it abundantly clear to those within that their safety was thoroughly compromised. There was no exotic poison in it. The problem was concentration, heat, humidity, particulates, and oxygen getting shoved out of the rooms they were supposed to occupy. Unfortunately, the giant depraved young woman behind it all was only just getting started.
“Whew!” Hazel snorted, waving a hand in front of her face. “Man, that serum really did a number on my stomach!”
Down where he actually was, mostly focused on his own survival at this point, Max forced a laugh. “Y-yeah... L-listen, uh, Hazel... it looks like there’s a lot of people down there. Maybe you should get off and go somewhere else? They’re using the air system. You’re sitting on the intake—”
“What was that, miniguy?” Hazel scowled — trying to think of why her tiny assistant’s words sounded so familiar. “Oh! You’re right! I did come over here to get off, didn’t I?”
“Poor choice of words,” Max groaned, shaking his head. “I meant-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” giggled Hazel, already going to town on her clit again with her free hand. “I know what you meant. Why don’t you make yourself useful?”
She did not take him out. She only squeezed, shifting him an inch along the wet seam so his face lined up where she wanted the pressure, and that was enough to make the last half hour of doors and stairs feel like a rumor. After a week as her assistant there was no new assignment. There was only the same one, at a scale that folded him.
“Mmm,” moaned Hazel, clenching to keep the adjustment and bringing her other hand up to her nipple. “That’s more like it.”
With her assistant held where she liked him, the giant gooner got back to doing what she did best. The sheer exhilaration of being so big and powerful was already getting her wetter than any porn ever had — and even in the absence of her usual array of monitors and hentai, she was quickly approaching her biggest climax in recent memory.
PRRRRTTTTTTTTT
As her whole body shook in anticipation, another absent-minded fart slipped out of her huge, blubbery butt. For Max, it was just as bad as all the others he’d ever endured — but for those still trapped in the MSC, lacking the kind of tolerance the poor freshman had built up over the past week, it was even worse. By now, the majority of the people in the building were out cold, and the few who remained conscious were lost in a mix of panic and prayer — some to various gods, and others to Hazel herself.
He got an arm free to the wrist. Useless. He used it anyway. “The filters are going to fail. You know that. You build this shit—”
“I build serum, miniguy.” She laughed. “I don’t build HVAC. Relax. It’s a science building. They’re smart.”
Feeling a familiar quiver in Hazel’s cheeks, Max knew it was only a matter of time before she came. Based on the worrisome creaks and groans of the structure beneath his giant captor’s rump, it seemed like the whole MSC was reaching a similar breaking point. While the building had been built to withstand every known natural disaster, its engineers had clearly failed to consider Hazel Berry — and the closer the big, horny sophomore got to completion, the more she seemed to be testing the structure’s limits.
A campus officer with a bullhorn had made it to the edge of the grass. The amplified voice cracked up toward her: evacuate, remain calm, do not approach.
Hazel understood every word. Max heard her snort.
“They’re so dramatic,” she said.
“Hazel.” His voice was shredded. “If the roof goes you’ll fall through. There are lecture halls under you. Hundreds of—”
BBBBRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTT
Blasting another careless fart into her tiny assistant’s face, she couldn’t help smiling at the clear devastation her rampage had already wrought. Her path over to the MSC from Proserpina was punctuated with several dozen massive footprints — most dotted with unlucky classmates, bicycles and cars — and she could already make out the faint outline of helicopters and emergency vehicles in the distance. So far, being 200 feet tall was everything she’d been hoping for and more. The only thing that would make this day better would be bringing her current goon sesh to a fittingly titanic conclusion.
Still furiously rubbing her clit with one hand and alternating tweaking her nipples with the other, the bottom-heavy giantess began grinding her hips into the building with newfound intensity, quickly wearing a butt-shaped crater into the top layer of sagging steel and reinforced concrete. Totally lost in the throes of pleasure, she had little regard for the people below her. Right now, as far as she was concerned, collateral damage was just part of the fun.
PPPBBLBLLBBLBLBLLLBRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTT
If the crushing pressure of Hazel’s thousand-ton rump was the thing that brought the MSC’s roof to the brink of failure, a final absent-minded fart was the straw that broke the camel’s back. As the complicated network of over-engineered materials that held the structure together gave way, the 200-foot-tall sophomore was sent tumbling down butt-first into the wreckage of her first campus goon spot — an unintentional monument to her newfound godlike power, and not the first building she had ruined today.
Falling inside her fall was its own physics. Her cheeks clenched on instinct, and that clench was the only reason he was not a mark on a girder. Something clipped his calf — steel, concrete — hard enough that a normal hundred-and-forty-pound body should have opened or snapped. Pain arrived, bright and specific. Skin tore. The muscle underneath did not. He would have a bruise the size of a hand and a raw stripe that kept announcing itself, and that was all. Whatever the green stock had restored, it hadn’t erased everything the shrinking serum had done to him.
“Wow,” panted Hazel, scanning the wreckage and giggling. “I really gotta cut back on the Hot Cheetos, huh, miniguy?”
Beneath her, barely holding on after the barrage of force and stink she’d just unleashed on him, Max shuddered.
“Hazel,” he got out, when she shifted enough to give his ribs an inch. “Don’t — don’t sit back down.”
“I’m not gonna sit back down. It’s broken.” She sounded honestly put out, as if the building had been rude. She rose.
She brushed at her rump with the backs of her fingers. A bicycle came off. Then two students, rag-loose, and they hit the lawn from a height Max could now measure in his own bones. One of them bounced wrong and stayed facing the sky with a stillness that was not shock. He was the same size they were. That made the stillness easier to recognize and harder to look away from. Hazel did not check.
Twenty-five minutes out from Hazel’s sudden growth spurt, most of Ventus had already been evacuated. With the exception of what was left of the Math & Science Center, every building, common space and parking lot on campus was emptying — and as the 200-foot buck-toothed gooner surveyed her new domain, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. After all, she thought, half the fun of being this big was lording over everyone else... and who were her classmates to refuse to play along?
“Buncha prudes,” scoffed Hazel.
Still buried in the crack of her ass, stirred by the motion of her cheeks, Max finally worked up the courage to speak. “W-what was that, Hazel?”
By some miracle of science, perhaps an interaction between two of the depraved genius’s serums, the two undergrads were still able to hear each other.
“Everyone’s gone.” Hazel shrugged. “So I guess we’re going into town!”
“You just killed people,” Max said. The words scraped. “You can’t take this downtown.”
“Relax, miniguy,” Hazel giggled, giving her cheeks an affectionate clench around her assistant. “You’ll be fine.”
Feeling the bottom-heavy giantess’s blubbery buttocks pressing against him, Max swallowed hard. It wasn’t his own safety he was concerned for. The stripe on his calf was already keeping its own count of what the serum had and had not spared him, and she was going to read that the same way she read everything else: as proof that he could take it.
