By: maximally
Faced with the combined attention of both giant young women, Max gulped. Even before he shrank, he'd never been good at high-pressure decision-making. Obviously, spending a month cooped up with a fetid gooner like Hazel wasn't his idea of a dream scenario—but if she was telling the truth, it might also be his most viable shot at finding a cure for his condition. "I dunno. I guess… Hazel?"
"Huh," said Hazel, smiling smugly. "I woulda lost money on that, not gonna lie. Guess that's your cue to beat it, D."
"You're sure about this, Max?" Looking down at the three-inch-tall young man in her hand, Daisy did her best to sound like she supported his decision—while also giving him room to back out. "I'm with you either way...."
"Of course he's sure!" Hazel grinned. "Right, miniguy?"
"Y-yeah," stammered Max, trying to say it like he meant it. "If it helps you get me back to normal, I don't mind staying here for a bit."
"That's the spirit," said Hazel, standing up and snatching the shrunken freshman away from Daisy. "I'll text you later, D. We still gotta set a date for that ass-eating sesh. And I don't want you setting foot in the shower until we do!"
Daisy grimaced. "I... alright, fine." Turning for the door, she gave Max a final apologetic glance. "I'll come check on you later, okay?"
"S-sounds good," said Max, already having second thoughts about his decision. "Thanks, Daisy."
"Don't let the door hit your big, sexy ass on the way out," chuckled Hazel. Re-triggering the lock once Daisy closed the door, she looked down at Max and winked. "Looks like it's just you and me, miniguy."
Already, Max didn't like the way Hazel was eyeing him—like her intial surprised-horny-hungry look, times ten. "Y-yeah. So, uh… what kind of tests are you thinking of doing?"
Hazel smiled. "Well, there's one problem I'm gonna need your help solving."
Forcing a smile back, Max nodded. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah." Hazel's smile grew. "The thing is, all this ass-eating talk has got me feeling pretty horny. And when I'm horny, I can't focus on sciencey stuff. So... you're gonna be my little 'research assistant.' And your first project is getting me off." Setting him down on the desk and slipping out of her sweatpants, her smile grew. "Now... ass, or pussy?"
"A-ass?" Intensely distracted by Hazel's chubby, curvy nakedness — and another glimpse at the single hairiest vagina he'd ever seen — Max wasn't sure he understood the question. Then, he realized his question could be interpreted as an answer to hers. "Wait, no! I-"
"Ah, ah, ah," Hazel giggled, "no take-backs."
Before Max had any time to try to run or hide, he was back in Hazel's hand, and she was bringing him around to her ass. As the giant gooner pressed him down between her big, jiggling, unwashed cheeks, the overpowering smell he'd endured while she was twerking only got stronger—a mix of sweat and butt funk that forced itself into his nose like an occupying army. Hazel surrounded him from all angles, and all of his struggles only seemed to press him further and further in.
"Mmm," giggled Hazel, "someone's excited! Don't worry, miniguy, you're almost there."
As if on cue, Max's face finally made contact with the deepest part of Hazel's ass—her huge, visibly-dirty pucker. It was the single most disgusting thing he'd ever seen, felt, or smelled in his entire life. Then, feeling the muscles around the giant gooner's anus contracting, he realized it was about to get even worse.
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If the smell inside Hazel's asscrack was bad, this fart was downright toxic. As it blasted into Max's shrunken face, he could only conclude that this was some kind of waking nightmare—or an especially kinky circle of hell. It was much bigger — and wetter — than the one she'd let loose while she was twerking... and now he was even closer to the action.
"Oooh," said Hazel, clenching her cheeks together. "You like that, huh?"
Unsure whether the giant gooner had interpreted his struggles as enthusiasm, Max tried to keep as still as he could. In a matter of minutes, the top priority on his mind had shifted from getting back to normal to staying alive—and, ideally, getting away from this horrible, disgusting woman. How he was going to do that from here, though, he had no idea.
Meanwhile, Hazel shuffled back over to her chair and resumed the gooning sesh that Daisy had so rudely interrupted. Cueing up the several tabs of scat porn and giantess hentai on one monitor and a few tabs of shrinking serum research on another, she stuck her hand back down the front of her sweatpants and began to rub herself off again—while cutting several more rancid, juicy farts in Max's face.
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For the shrunken freshman pressed up against her asshole, each of these blasts was worse than the last. As Hazel brought herself closer and closer to her fifth or sixth orgasm of the day — she tended to lose count after three — her farts just kept coming. And of course, in true gooner style, she had no problem taking her time to get where she was going.
Two excruciating hours later, the massive buck-toothed nerd finally pushed herself over the edge of a toe-curling climax. Roused from a gas-induced delirium by the clenching of her cheeks, Max felt his giant captor's whole body tensing up—including her asshole.
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As she reached her breaking point, the tiny freshman beneath her was subjected to her worst fart yet: a ten-second-long ripper that rocked him like a shit-scented hurricane. By the time her sphincter relaxed, the only thing keeping him from blacking out was sheer determination.
"Oooh..." Purring with pleasure, Hazel gently worked the shrunken young man out from the depths of her anus and brought him up in front of her face. "Alright, miniguy. Good news and better news."
Barely conscious after everything he'd just endured in Hazel's ass, mostly preoccupied with getting as many lungfuls of fresh, fart-free air as possible, it took every shred of brainpower at Max's disposal to string together a coherent response. "W-wha?"
"Good news for me... I haven't cum that hard in a long time." She smirked. "Better news for you... I'm putting you on full time booty duty until I get to the bottom of this thing."
"W-what?" Max's jaw dropped. Of all the places he could have ended up today, this was increasingly looking like the absolute worst-case scenario. "B-but... I can't stay back there! I'll suffocate!"
"Nah, it'll be fine," said Hazel, returning her still-glistening hand to her mouse to start cueing up videos for her next goon sesh. "I've already got a couple ideas. I'm not big on underwear, so the best solution is probably some kind of butt plug. 3D-printed, so you can slot right into it. Obviously, I'm gonna have to figure that out before we get into this whole 'getting you back to normal' wild goose chase—er, I mean, research."
Hearing all of this, Max felt the last traces of color draining from his face. After getting a desperately needed lifeline from the universe by running into the surprisingly selfless Daisy, he'd thrown it all away to put his faith in the giant walking red flag that was Hazel Berry. As he contemplated spending an entire month as a living buttplug, the huge, stinky nerd's stomach started rumbling.
"Sounds like the ol' fart factory needs some more ammo," said Hazel, pulling up her usual menu of delivery sites. "Hmm... Indian again, or Mexican?"
Max groaned. The mere thought of having to smell whatever either of these cuisines would do to Hazel's digestive system was making him nauseous all over again.
"Ah, fuck it." Hazel giggled. "Both it is!"
***
For Max, the next several days felt like years. Trapped in Hazel's huge, unwashed ass day-in-day-out, with nothing to breathe but farts, nothing to drink but sweat and nothing to eat but the occasional Cheeto and Dorito crumbs he managed to scavenge from her mattress and the seat of her gaming chair, he fell into a routine of unimaginable deprivation—at least, until his captor finished fabbing his new 3D-printed plug-suit.
Before the plug, Hazel had been content to simply leave her shrunken research assistant in the crack of her ass. Granted, this wasn't great, but it still left him a fairly significant amount of mobility—and the occasional opportunity to slip out to find food while she was sleeping or gooning. With the plug, all of that changed overnight. Molded to fit around his body like an oversized mascot costume, it left him frozen in a standing position with his arms at his sides, surrounded by soft silicone, with only his face exposed. It also meant that he was now trapped up Hazel's ass rather than merely pressed against it.
She'd completed the plug on Tuesday and promptly celebrated by fastening him in and shoving him up her asshole. His only breaks since then had been her occasional trips to the bathroom, where she was at least considerate enough to leave him sitting on the floor instead of letting him fall into the toilet. From the limited awareness of the passage of time he had between these breaks and the subtle changes in movement between Hazel's days and nights, it was now at least Saturday. He had absolutely no idea how he'd made it this far without suffocating.
Unfortunately, Daisy hadn't been much help, either. While the chubby ogress had made several trips to check in on him since last Saturday, her buck-toothed neighbor had expertly downplayed her concerns every time—leaving Max's original rescuer convinced that the only way to get him back to normal lay in trusting the depraved genius's judgment. Now, whether he liked it or not, he was completely at Hazel's mercy.
As he felt his huge horny captor rolling out of bed, he braced himself for whatever she had in store for him. Because Hazel took most of her classes remotely and easily aced every test without ever cracking any of her textbooks, she spent the majority of her time holed up in this room — generally, either eating, sleeping or gooning — day in, day out.
If her previous daily routines were any guide, she tended to start the day with a big, sloppy dump. When she removed the plug, he knew he could expect a few much-needed minutes of fresh air—as fresh as the air in a toilet stall occupied by a girl as big and foul as Hazel could be, at least. Today, though, he felt his silicone prison being pulled out much earlier than usual.
Easing her plug out of her ass, biting her lip as she felt her asshole gently releasing its favorite new toy, the huge, butt-naked gooner settled into her chair and powered up her computer. "Mornin', miniguy! How'd you sleep?"
Face to face with the giant, grinning nerd who'd turned his life into a living hell for the past week, Max sighed. As usual, there wasn't a shred of genuine sadism in her eyes. Somehow, by her own twisted, horny brand of logic, she'd simply concluded that this was the most reasonable way to treat a guy like him. "F-fine. H-how about you?"
"Good enough," she said, shrugging. "So, you ready for today?"
Max winced. "What's today?"
Hazel's grin grew. "Today... if my calculations are correct, and they always are, I should know what you got dosed with!"
Max scowled. The idea that Hazel had already wasted several days cobbling together his silicon prison and was only just now getting to the bottom of the most basic questions of his whole predicament did not inspire confidence. "It's... it's shrinking serum, right?"
Hazel rolled her eyes. "Not a science guy, huh? That's like saying it's a "pain reliever." There's like, thirty different shrinking serums it could be. And only a few that aren't permanent."
"Oh..." Max forced a smile. "Y-you mean... t-today's the day we find out if you can grow me back?"
Hazel nodded. "Precisely, miniguy. Precisely." She double-clicked a window on one of her six desktop monitors, wallpapered with an image of Jinx from League of Legends getting messily rimmed by Harley Quinn, and pulled up a folder marked 'MINIGUY TESTING.' On the desk beside her, a secondhand clinical centrifuge was still spinning away, processing the several samples of her shrunken research assistant's DNA that she'd squeezed out of him over their first few pre-plug days together. "Looks like we've got about an hour until it's done... juuust enough time to celebrate!"
Max went white. With Hazel, "celebrating" meant only one thing—and he knew that there was no talking her out of it.
Before he even had a chance to protest, his giant gooner captor was prying him out of his silicone prison. Finally able to move his arms and legs again after at least 48 hours, he did his best to stretch as she brought him up to her lips to clean him off. Rather than taking him into the bathroom to wash him in the sink, she simply extended her huge tongue and gave him several good licks before spitting onto the floor and rinsing her mouth with a sip from one of the several half-empty Monster cans on her desk. Then, and only then, she brought him down to her huge, hairy, already-dripping sex.
"Oh, yeah," said Hazel, biting her lip again and cueing up several tabs of porn. "Just like that."
As far as Max could tell, the only upside of spending the last week trapped in and around Hazel's ass was that it had spared him from her hungry pussy. Now, enveloped in her warm, slimy folds, he got everything he'd been missing and more. As his giant captor edged herself closer and closer to her first orgasm of the day, he was barely able to breathe through all the sweat and slime.
BBBBRRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP
"Whew!" Hazel giggled, getting a whiff of her own fumes and pressing Max even harder against her clit. "I forget how much that plug holds back!"
***
By the time the giant gooner came, she'd been at it for a full three hours—and the centrifuge on the desk had finished processing at least 120 minutes ago. Peeling her shrunken assistant out of her pussy and bringing him up to her lips to suck him clean, she managed to get at least one orgasm out of him—something that seemed only fair, to her, given how much she'd come to appreciate his help over the last week.
"There we go," she said, plucking Max out of her mouth and setting his drained, barely-breathing body down on her desk. "Now, let's see what we've got."
With a few taps of her keyboard, the 'MINIGUY TESTING' reemerged—and now included a new document labeled 'RESULTS.' When Hazel double-clicked the document, her eyes went wide. "No way..."
Struggling to make much of the jumble of numbers, symbols and chemical diagrams on screen, Max looked to his giant captor for reference. "What does it say?"
Again, Hazel grinned. "It says... this serum is one of mine!"
"Oh," said Max, unsure whether this was good or bad news. "So, uh... is this one permanent, or not?"
"Short answer, yes and no." Hazel adjusted her glasses. "The thing about this serum is, it's modular. There's no getting it out of your system once you've taken it... but you can tweak the effects."
Against his better judgment, Max allowed himself a brief moment of optimism. "Does that mean there's a way to get me back to normal?"
"Let's find out." Turning her attention back to her screen, Hazel pulled up some kind of complicated-looking calculator app and lazily hammered in a few complex equations. When she saw the results, she smiled. "Huh. That's interesting."
Max wasn't sure he liked the look in Hazel's eyes, but he forced himself to return her smile. "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..." Hazel wiggled her eyebrows. "Different."
Max froze. "L-like what?"
"Well," said Hazel, idly slipping a hand back down to her still-dripping sex. "How much do you know about chemistry?"
Watching his giant naked captor starting to go to town on herself again, Max made no effort to conceal his involuntary arousal. "N-not much?"
"Okay," said Hazel, noticing her shrunken assistant's boner and smirking. "Lemme put it this way, then. The serum you got dosed with is designed to respond to two different categories of supplemental chemicals. You following so far?"
"Yeah?" While Max appreciated having this broken down in relatively simple terms, he could have done without Hazel's condescending tone.
"Good. So, with those supplements. First, there's the ones that tweak the physiological effects of the original. They can make you bigger, smaller, more durable, stuff like that, but they're also pretty hard to get right." The buck-toothed nerd grinned. "And then there's the ones that tweak the psychological effects."
"The psychological effects?" Max wasn't sure he liked the sound of this but was undeniably curious to hear more. "Like what?"
"Like..." said Hazel, still idly coaxing herself toward another orgasm. "Well... historically, being a miniguy is kind of a raw deal. Most guys aren't exactly willing volunteers, and it's usually pretty dirty work." She giggled. "I guess you probably know that better than I do, by now."
"Yeah," sighed Max, his nostrils still clogged with the smell of his captor's ass and pussy. "I... yeah."
"Anyway..." Hazel continued, "With psycho-serums, the idea is to make things more... enjoyable for the guy getting dosed."
Max swallowed hard. Knowing Hazel's definition of "enjoyable" involved staying holed up in her room, gooning herself silly for days on end, this statement didn't exactly excite him. "H-how does that work?"
"Mostly pheromones," said Hazel, pulling her hand away from her sopping wet pussy and licking her fingers before sticking it right back. "Adjusting your body's... natural responses when you're exposed to certain parts of mine. Total walk in the park compared to modifying cellular growth patterns."
Max winced. "'Certain parts,' meaning..."
"Oh, you know. Sweat... spit... shit... pussy juice..." With every word, she seemed to be getting closer and closer to cumming. "I guess... in your case... the best trigger... would probably be..."
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Pushing herself to another messy climax, the chubby gooner filled her room with yet another blast of spicy butt-wind. As usual, the smell was more than enough to send Max into another coughing fit, crumpling into a quivering heap on her desk. Even if he did get back to normal someday, he had a feeling he'd never get the smell of Hazel's ass all the way out of his nose.
"Geez, miniguy," Hazel panted, "these fresh air breaks really kill your tolerance, huh?"
Struggling not to gag on his captor's rancid fumes, Max was still stuck on her previous statement. "Wh-what were you going to say before? About the best trigger for me?"
Hazel snorted. "Do I have to spell it out for you? My farts!"
Max froze. "A serum to make me..." He grimaced. "Enjoy your farts?"
"Precisely!" Hazel grinned. "How cool is that?"
"Uh..." Max hesitated, unsure how to talk himself out of this without ending up back in Hazel's ass any sooner than necessary. "I mean, that's definitely one idea. What about growing me back?"
Hazel snorted. "We could try that. But it'd take at least another month or two." She hammered a few quick calculations into her keyboard and frowned at the results. "Scratch that... probably more like eight or nine. And even if we end up with a viable formula, there's no guaranteeing it works. You're talking about creating a supplementary serum that actively goes against the number one effect of the primary serum. Not exactly the easiest thing to nail on the first try."
Unsure whether Hazel was telling the truth, Max frowned. Realistically, he knew there was a decent chance she had already made up her mind and was just trying to justify her decision to him. Of course, it was going to take more than a few good excuses to make him forgo a shot at returning to normal in favor of a life as her live-in butt plug.
"Okay," said Max, feeling strangely uncomfortable pushing back on the wishes of his giant captor. "I mean, that's fine; I can wait. If that's what it takes to get me back to normal."
"Look, miniguy..." For a moment, Hazel almost looked apologetic. "I'm trying to let you down gently here. Based on these numbers, there's a ninety percent chance we go through a whole year of this, and nothing happens."
"S-seriously?" Max's heart sank. "But last weekend, you told Daisy..."
"That was before I knew what serum we were dealing with." Hazel shook her head. "Most of them are pretty basic. But this stuff's a whole different breed of cat."
Slumping to his knees, Max just barely resisted the urge to burst into tears. If Hazel was serious, and it sure sounded like she was, this was his life now—and there was no going back any time soon, if ever. "Oh..."
Seeing the three-inch-tall freshman's clear distress, Hazel sighed. "Ah, c'mon, miniguy! Look on the bright side! I might not be able to get you back to normal... but normal's overrated, anyway!" She smiled—noticeably warmer and less depraved than usual. "Just for what it's worth, you're the best assistant I've ever had. I mean, no one's ever made me cum harder than you have. And I'd be more than happy to try and make you a little more comfortable back there."
At the word "comfortable," Max flinched. "B-by making me have a thing for your farts?"
Hazel shrugged. "I mean, that's just one idea. I'm not married to it... but it probably wouldn't take more than a couple of days to throw something together. Seems like a pretty easy win-win to me." Wiggling her eyebrows again, the giant gooner broadened her smile into another grin. "I mean, if I was in your shoes right now, and a giant hot girl offered me a chance to spend the rest of my life getting off with her... this conversation would be over."
Max forced a smile. Hazel wasn't bad-looking by any stretch, definitely closer to his type than not. But "hot" was far from the first adjective he'd use to describe a girl who spent most of her time sprawled out in a gamer chair with skid marks on the seat cushion, rubbing her clit to the most depraved porn the internet had to offer. And that wasn't even touching her various odors—let alone her dumps. Any future where he spent the rest of his life in her care was far from a best-case scenario. Then again, from where he stood right now, there didn't seem to be many viable alternatives.
"So," said Hazel, "whaddaya say?"
Staring up at the huge, buck-toothed genius, Max felt an overwhelming sensation of inevitability creeping over him. Over the last week, he'd seen Hazel solving advanced quantum mechanics problems with all the ease and nonchalance of a todder playing a smartphone game. Her email inbox had a special spam folder specifically to filter out rival universities seeking to woo her into research programs, and another for unsolicited job offers from Fortune 500 companies. While she was easily one of the foulest people he'd ever met, she was also far and away the smartest—and if she didn't think there was any way out of his current condition, he had his doubts that he'd get a better answer anywhere else. With that in mind, if he really was stuck like this forever — or at the very least, for another several months — he might as well try to enjoy it.
"Alright," he said, finally, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Fine. Let's do it."
Hazel grinned wider than ever. "I always knew I liked you, miniguy."
***
One year later...
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As a fresh gust of gas roused Max from another night of restless sleep, he eagerly pressed his face against his mistress's perpetually-unwashed asshole to savor as much as he could. While she usually kept him supplied with a steady stream of methane-infused air, she'd been conspicuously un-gassy since last night—and in the absence of his usual dosage, he was already getting anxious and shaky. This dependency was just one of the many indignities she had forced onto him over the last twelve months, originally presented as a way of making him more comfortable. In retrospect, nothing could have been further from the truth.
Allowing her foul fumes to fill his lungs, he was rewarded with a familiar full-body feeling of euphoria and arousal. It only lasted a few fleeting seconds due to his now-substantial tolerance, but after an excruciating several hours without a whiff of Hazel's farts, it was just the trick to calm his nerves. Most of his days were built around chasing this feeling, and it pervaded the few dreams he still had at night.
"Mmm..." Yawning, the 20-year-old gooner rolled over and stretched. "Morning, miniguy."
Between her cheeks, face still flush against her huge, wrinkled hole, Max gritted his teeth. After all this time, Hazel had still never bothered to learn his name. It was like she saw him as nothing more than a living toy; something that existed solely for her pleasure... and after all the "upgrades" she'd given him since then, he was increasingly starting to feel the same way.
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Opening his mouth as another fart blasted out of the giant nerd's plump rump, Max redoubled his efforts to absorb as much as he could. Hopefully, he thought, whatever she ate today would give him more to work with. He still couldn't believe she'd made him start thinking like this.
"Hehe, someone's eager." Hazel grinned. Of course, she knew that eagerness had nothing to do with the way Max felt about her various emissions. Thanks to all the supplementary serums she'd cooked up to ease him into life in her ass, it was more like an all-consuming obsession. But that didn't stop her from taking every opportunity to playfully tease him about it.
"Thinking I might order a couple of breakfast burritos," she said, clenching her cheeks around her three-inch-tall assistant. "Extra cheese, extra eggs, extra beans, lots of hot sauce. How's that sound to you?"
Beneath her, overcome by the unconscious forces his mistress had unleashed upon him, Max began covering her asshole with kisses. "T-thank you, mistress!" As much as it pained him to admit it, he meant this with total sincerity. "Y-you're the best!"
"And don't you forget it," laughed Hazel, grabbing her phone and tapping in an order. "Perfect, that'll be here in an hour. Juuust enough time to sneak in a quick sesh."
As she rolled out of bed and shuffled over to her desktop, Max was jostled further awake by the lumbering pressure of her cheeks wobbling back and forth around his shrunken form. While she still occasionally busted out her 3D printed plug from time to time, she'd come to prefer keeping him in her ass without any extra gadgetry—especially since she'd gotten him to start staying in there of his own volition. For twelve excruciating months, this had been Max's life.
By now, he was a distant memory to everyone else at Ventus. Zeke had gotten a new roommate, his family had given up looking for him, and once Daisy graduated in the spring, there'd be no one else on campus who knew he was still alive. Just him and Hazel, forever—a deal that was, by any reasonable metric, significantly better for her than him.
"Alright, miniguy," said the buck-toothed gooner, settling into her chair, "what do you think... is this a scat morning, or a cockvore morning?"
Still plastered between his mistress's cheeks, Max sighed. "I guess... c-cockvore?"
"Still not a scat guy, huh?" Hazel made a little 'tsk-tsk' sound. "We really gotta work on that..."
Well aware of what this could mean, Max shuddered. Already, his mistress had gotten him addicted to her gas. Another more recent serum had "optimized" his digestive system to get all the daily nutrients he needed from her sweat. A third "conditioning update" triggered uncontrollable arousal whenever she allowed him near her vagina. At this point, there were only a few more conceivable ways she could heighten her pheromonal dominance over his mind—and while he hoped she'd leave those final depraved doors unopened, he had a feeling it was only a matter of time.
At moments like this, pressed up against his mistress's asshole with a headful of her fumes, there was no denying the reality of his current situation. Of all the girls he could have ended up with during his first semester of college, he'd managed to draw the attention of his school's smartest, horniest, most perverted female student—and now, he was reaping what he'd sowed. Hazel had won, he was hers, and there was nothing he could do about it. No matter how many times he tried to go on strike or escape, sooner or later, he always crawled back into her ass—technically, of his own free will.
The strangest part of the whole thing was, deep down, Max knew that Hazel wasn't doing this out of anything like malicious intent. She didn't believe that he deserved to be punished. Rather than wasting a year of her valuable gooning time trying to find a cure for his condition, she'd simply decided that it would be more efficient — and sensible — to chemically reprogram him into being a willing, enthusiastic extension of her huge, filthy ass. This was how her brilliant, perverted mind worked, and after several months of futile, one-sided conversations, he'd given up trying to get her to see things any other way.
The only upside of how everything had ended up, if he could even allow himself to think in those terms, was that he no longer had to worry about anything beyond the walls of Hazel's goon cave. He was never going to have to declare a major, or find a job. He'd never have a girlfriend, either, let alone a wife or a family. For better or worse, his life had become just as simple, streamlined, and utterly feral as that of his mistress—and with that in mind, he supposed this wasn't the worst possible outcome he could have ended up with. At least Hazel's torment was predictable, and not overtly sadistic. Maybe someday he'd even teach himself to like it—at least, if she didn't engineer him into liking it first.
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"Oooh," sighed Hazel, slipping a hand down to her clit as she felt her tiny assistant struggling harder than ever against her rancid hole. "That was a really wet one!"
Beneath her, all Max could do was keep inhaling.