Hawkin’s Gassiest Duo (Stranger Things Fart-Fic)

The front door swung shut behind them with a soft click, sealing away the lingering warmth of the summer evening. Eleven and Max stumbled inside, their laughter bubbling up like fizzy soda—light, unstoppable, and infectious. The day had been perfect—a whirlwind of mall trips, arcade games, and shared secrets, all marking Eleven’s very first real "Girl Time" with Max. And yet, beneath the giddy exhaustion, Eleven couldn’t shake the quiet weight pressing against her ribs. She had broken up with Mike today.

The thought flickered in her mind like a stubborn ember. He had been distant lately—avoiding her eyes, giving short answers, pulling away like she was something fragile. Or worse, something boring. The sting of it still lingered, even as Max’s bright energy kept her from sinking too deep into it. Max threw herself backward onto her bed with a dramatic groan, arms splayed out like a starfish. “Ugh. I feel like I haven’t seen a bed in years.” she declared, kicking off her sneakers. They thudded against the floor, one after the other. Eleven hovered near the doorway, watching her best friend with a small smile.

“That,” Max continued, propping herself up on her elbows, “was the best hangout I’ve ever had. Well, the only one, technically.” She grinned, but then her expression softened. “And hey—you did the right thing with Mike. Boys are the worst at talking about their feelings. They just… shut down.”

Eleven nodded, though the tightness in her chest didn’t ease. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. Max studied her for a second before rolling off the bed with a sudden burst of energy. She crossed the room to the window, nudging the curtains aside. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep purples and oranges. A spark lit up in Max’s eyes.

“Hey, El,” she said, spinning around. “Have you ever had a movie night before?”

Eleven blinked. “Um… no?”

Max gasped, clutching her chest in mock horror. “Seriously? Oh my God, you’ve been missing out!” She grabbed Eleven’s wrist, tugging her toward the door. “C’mon, I’ll make us popcorn. You pick the movie.”

Eleven followed, her curiosity piqued. The living room was dim, lit only by the fading twilight through the blinds. Her eyes drifted to the bulky TV in the corner—she’d never really noticed it before. Every time she came over, she and Max always beelined straight for her room, lost in music or gossip or any other thing.

Max rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, pulling out a crinkly bag of microwave popcorn. “Okay, rule number one of movie night,” she announced, tearing open the packet, “you have to pick something awesome.” She dumped it into the microwave and slammed the door with a thunk. “Check the shelf. There’s, like, a million options.”

Eleven turned toward the towering shelf of VHS tapes, her fingers brushing over the colorful spines. Action movies, comedies, cartoons—none of the titles meant much to her. Then her hand paused on one. On the cover, it read Ghostbusters. She pulled it free, studying the cover. Four men in strange uniforms, their backs against a glowing ghost.

“How about this one?” she asked, holding it up. “Lucas talked about it once.”

At the mention of Lucas, Max’s head whipped around so fast Eleven half-expected to hear a crack. “Ghostbusters?” she repeated, skepticism dripping from her voice. “I’ve never seen it. You sure that’s the one you want?”

Eleven flipped the case over, scanning the tiny text. “Paranormal investigators… saving New York from ghosts…” She looked up. “It sounds interesting. Let’s watch it.”

Max shrugged. “Okay, but if it sucks, you’re picking the next one.”

The microwave beeped, filling the air with the buttery scent of popcorn. Eleven crouched in front of the VHS player, squinting at the buttons. EJECT. PLAY. The symbols were simple enough. She pressed EJECT, and flinched as the machine whirred to life, spitting out an old tape. Max snorted. “Scared of your own power, huh?”

Eleven rolled her eyes but smiled as she slid Ghostbusters into the slot. The screen flickered to life, and she settled onto the couch beside Max, a bowl of popcorn between them. The glow of the TV flickered across the dim living room as Ghostbusters played on, the ghostly shenanigans on screen holding just enough of their attention to keep them from turning it off. Eleven sat cross-legged on the couch, a half-empty bowl of popcorn nestled between her and Max. But despite the movie’s humor, her mind kept circling back to him.

He hadn’t just dumped her—he’d faded away, like a ghost himself. Ignoring her in the halls, cutting their conversations short, acting like she was some kind of burden. The more she thought about it, the tighter her fists clenched in her lap. She wanted him to feel it—the frustration, the hurt, the confusion. She wanted him to understand. Her gaze slid over to Max, who was sprawled out beside her, eyes glued to the screen with the vacant stare of someone only half-paying attention.

"Um, Max?" Eleven’s voice was quiet, tentative.

Max blinked, snapping out of her daze. "Hm? What’s up?"

Eleven hesitated, chewing her lip before forcing the words out. "I… want to make Mike pay."

Max’s eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"I want him to feel bad," Eleven clarified, her voice firmer now. "He needs to see how he made me feel."

A slow, wicked grin spread across Max’s face. "Ohhh. So you’re not just gonna take this lying down? You wanna speak up for yourself?"

Eleven nodded. "Yeah. I guess."

Max didn’t even hesitate. "Don’t worry," she said, already scrambling off the couch, "I have just the thing."

Eleven watched as Max bolted down the hall, her socked feet skidding slightly on the hardwood. The movie continued to play, the sounds of spectral chaos filling the silence, but Eleven barely registered it. Her heart pounded—not with nervousness, but with something new. Something determined.

Less than a minute later, Max bounded back into the room, clutching the newspaper she’d been reading earlier. It was already folded open to a specific page, her freckled face alight with mischief.

"I have a really good idea, El," she announced, plopping back onto the couch and shoving the paper into Eleven’s hands. "Just look at this."

Eleven squinted at the page. It was a list—no, an article—about foods. But not just any foods. The bold headline at the top read: "10 Foods That Cause Extreme Gas (And How to Avoid Them!)"

Her nose wrinkled. "...What does this mean?"

Max’s grin turned devilish. "Simple. We load up on this stuff, let nature take its course, and then let our exes deal with the aftermath."

Eleven’s brows furrowed. "...So you want us to… pass gas? A lot of it?"

"Yep." Max popped the p, looking far too pleased with herself. "I know it sounds weird, but trust me—this is way easier to pull off than, like, slashing their tires or something."

Eleven stared at the list again. Beans. Cabbage. Soda. Dairy. The more she read, the more absurd it felt—but also… strangely satisfying.

A slow, mischievous smile tugged at her lips.

"...Okay," she said. "Let’s do it."

Bradley’s Big Buy

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store hummed overhead as Max and Eleven prowled the aisles like two mischievous ghosts, their shopping cart slowly filling with forbidden treasures. Every item they grabbed felt like a tiny act of rebellion—each can of beans, each head of cabbage, each two-liter bottle of soda was another weapon in their arsenal of digestive chaos.

Eleven clutched a massive bag of dried beans, her nose wrinkling at the sheer size of it. "Max," she said hesitantly, "do we really need this much?"

Max paused, surveying their haul with a critical eye. The cart was practically overflowing—enough cabbage to feed a small army, enough beans to stock a cowboy cookout, and enough soda to float a small boat. A slow, sheepish grin spread across her face.

"...Okay, maybe this is overkill," she admitted, tossing a few cabbages back onto the display. "Let’s just hit up a fast-food place instead. But I’m definitely keeping the soda."

Benny’s Burgers

The diner was loud, greasy, and smelled like fried everything—the perfect place to plot revenge. Max and Eleven slid into a booth, their trays complete with small appetizer burgers.

"So," Eleven said, poking at her burrito with mild concern, "how exactly are we doing this?"

Max took a huge bite of her burger, talking through a mouthful of cheese and beef. "What’s there to plan? When they least expect it—boom—we unleash hell. Simple."

Eleven frowned. "But what if it’s too obvious?"

Max waved a dismissive hand. "Relax, El. The only thing that might give us away is our stomachs sounding like a washing machine full of rocks. And even that won’t be enough to pin it on us."

Eleven sighed, picking at her food. "Maybe I’m just overthinking it."

Max’s expression softened. She reached across the table and gave Eleven’s arm a reassuring squeeze. "Hey. I got your back, okay? We’re in this together."

Eleven managed a small smile. "Okay. Thanks, Max."

Just then, the waiter arrived, sliding two monstrous plates in front of them. Eleven’s eyes widened at the sight—her burrito was the size of a small football, oozing beans and cheese, while Max’s burger looked like it could feed a family of four.

Max let out an impressed whistle. "Damn. I didn’t even know they made burritos this big." She squinted at the menu description. "Wait—cabbage is in this thing? Since when is cabbage a burrito ingredient?"

Eleven stared down at her meal like it was a ticking time bomb. She wasn’t even sure she could finish it, let alone survive the aftermath.

Max, meanwhile, was already three bites deep into her burger, sauce smeared on her cheek. "C’mon, El," she said, nudging the burrito toward her. "Eat up. We’ve got revenge to prep for."

Eleven took a deep breath, picked up her fork, and bravely dug in.

Hargrove House

The walk back to Max's house had never felt longer. Each step was a monumental effort, their bloated stomachs swaying slightly with the rhythm of their waddling gait. Eleven clutched her middle like a pregnant woman in her third trimester, while Max leaned forward like a ship's figurehead cutting through a sea of digestive regret.

"I think... I can feel... the beans... multiplying," Max groaned between shallow breaths, her face pale beneath her freckles.

Eleven didn't respond. She was too busy concentrating on not vomiting up the unholy fusion of fast food and carbonation sloshing in her gut. The burrito sat in her stomach like a lead weight, the beans within fermenting into what felt like pure methane.

They finally stumbled through the front door, their moans of discomfort echoing through the empty house. Max immediately beelined for her bedroom, collapsing onto the mattress with a groan that shook the bedframe.

"Jesus," she wheezed, rubbing circles on her distended abdomen. "If this plan fails, we're gonna wake up tomorrow weighing 300 pounds each." She patted her stomach, producing a hollow, drum-like sound. "Hear that? That's the sound of nutritional bankruptcy."

Eleven giggled weakly before her own stomach answered with a gurgle so loud it sounded sentient. The pressure building in her intestines was becoming unbearable, a bubbling, churning sensation that demanded immediate release.

Before she could warn Max, her body made the decision for her.

PPPRRRRBBBBTTTTTTTT!

The sound ripped through the room like a deflating balloon animal, wet and sputtering against the denim of her black pleated jeans. Eleven's eyes flew open in shock at both the force and the alarming moistness of the emission.

Max's laughter came in wheezing bursts as she fanned the air dramatically. "Holy SHIT, El! Are you trying to kill me before the boys even get here?" She rolled off the bed, gasping for clean air. "That wasn't a fart – that was a biological weapon!"

"I'm sorry!" Eleven squeaked, her face burning crimson. But the relief was short-lived as another, more insistent pressure built rapidly. Without thinking, she rolled onto her side and—

BBBBBBBRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFTTTTTT!

This one was longer, wetter, and ended with a suspicious splurt that made both girls freeze.

Max's eyes widened to saucers. "...El. Tell me you didn't just shit my bed."

Eleven sat perfectly still, doing a quick internal assessment. "...No. I think... I think we're good." She paused. "Mostly."

"OH MY GOD!" Max scrambled to wrench open the bedroom window, gulping in fresh air like a drowning woman. "Save some for Mike and Lucas, you walking chemical weapon!"

As the cool evening breeze swept through the room, Eleven sighed in guilty relief, her stomach finally settling – for now. The stage was set. The trap was primed. All that remained was for their unsuspecting victims to arrive.

Hours later

The porch light buzzed softly as Mike raised his hand to knock, his knuckles hovering just inches from the door. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. Beside him, Lucas shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Mike immediately began fussing with his shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles. "Do I have anything on me?" he muttered, craning his neck to inspect his shoulder. "Like, food stains or—or anything?"

Lucas shot him a look. "Dude. Relax. It's not like you're wearing a suit to prom." He adjusted his own collar, though his voice carried less conviction than usual. "It's just... whatever this is."

Before Mike could retort, the door creaked open. Max stood in the doorway, bathed in warm yellow light, her fiery hair tousled from what looked like a recent nap. She wore an oversized Sleepy's Pizza t-shirt and plaid pajama shorts, her usual smirk playing at her lips.

"Hey, losers," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "Took you long enough."

Mike's heart did a weird little flip—not for Max, of course, but because just past her shoulder, he could see Eleven curled up on the couch, bathed in the flickering glow of the TV. His stomach twisted. Lucas, ever the observant one, narrowed his eyes. Something was off. Max looked... too pleased. Like a cat who'd not only found the cream but had also figured out how to open the fridge.

"Uh, hey," Lucas said cautiously.

"Come in, come in!" Max stepped aside, ushering them inside with a dramatic sweep of her arm. As Mike shuffled past, she shot him a grin that was all teeth. "Make yourselves at home."

The door clicked shut behind them with an unsettling finality. Mike went for the living room, his pulse hammering in his ears. Eleven didn't even glance up as he approached, her eyes fixed on some old sitcom rerun.

God, she's beautiful.

He cleared his throat and perched awkwardly on the couch beside her, leaving a careful six inches of space between them. "Um, hey," he managed, his voice cracking slightly.

Eleven finally turned her head. "...Hey."

Her tone was neutral, but Mike could've sworn he saw a flicker of something in her eyes. Anger? Hurt? Hope? Before he could decipher it, Max clapped her hands together, shattering the moment. "So, Mike," she sing-songed, plopping down on the armrest beside Lucas. "Got anything to say to El?"

Mike's mouth went dry. This was it.

"I—uh—" He swallowed hard, fingers knotting together. "I'm sorry, El. Really. There's just... a lot going on, and I've been—"A coward."—busy. I should've talked to you."

Eleven studied him for a long moment. "...So why didn't you?"

"Because I was scared, okay?" The words tumbled out in a rush. "Scared I'd mess things up worse. Scared you'd hate me. Scared—" Scared I'm not enough for you.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Then, Eleven nodded slowly. "I accept your apology."

Mike's shoulders sagged in relief—until she added:

"But there's something I—" She cut herself off, shooting a panicked glance at Max. "We want to show you."

Mike blinked. "Really? What is it?"

Eleven's gaze darted to Max again, as if silently passing the baton.

Max hopped up, her grin turning downright feral. "It's in my room," she announced, dragging Lucas to his feet. "And trust me, guys—you won't forget this night."

Mike and Lucas exchanged wary looks.

Lucas leaned in, whispering, "This feels like a trap."

Mike hesitated. But then he looked at Eleven—*really* looked at her—and threw caution to the wind.

"Lead the way," he said.

Now with four people in the room, it already began to feel crowded. At least to Mike and Lucas, who were sitting at the edge of the bed. Max sneakily locked the door, but Mike turned his head, as if he heard it.

”What was that?” Mike questioned.

”What was what?” Max replied quickly, trying to get him to trail off.

”…Nevermind.”

”Alright! So, me and El thought up of a little game we have been planning, and-“

Max was cut off by the sound of her stomach, which made a noise that sounded downright unearthly. Her cheeks went red on her pale freckled face.

”Jesus, that was loud…”

”Are you okay?“ Lucas asked with concern.

”Yeah…it’s-“

Pfff-BLBLRT!

Everyone‘s eyes widened as they turned to Eleven, who accidentally released a wet fart.

”Woah, El! Are YOU okay?” Max asked, her voice having a tinge of fake to it to not give anything away.

”Oh...god.” Mike said, attempting to waft away the strong scent of sulfurous air.

Lucas immediately got up, not sure what was happening. Max gave Eleven a wink, the signal to finally unleash.

”GO!“ Max shouted.

Eleven jumped on Mike, pinning him down with her ass. It was perky, but decently voluptuous. Mike felt as if his lungs just got crushed, which was unfortunate for what was about to happen. Eleven took her hands and pinned down Mike’s shifting her body in order to get her ass in his face. All Mike could see was a view full of black pants that had a pungent smell that he’d never think he’d ever have his nose sniff in his life.

He was absolutely horrified, making any attempt to get himself off of Eleven, but all that did was make her use more of her weight.

”Sorry, Mike,” Eleven said, looking back at him from below.

”But I have to give you your consequences.”

With a lean forward, her butthole pushed-

PBLBRT—PBLBLLLLLRRRT!

The air attacked Mike’s face, the smell hitting his nostrils fast.

“Ungh-“

PBLRT-PBLRRT—PFFFFFFRRRT!

While Mike suffered under his ex’s ass, Lucas wasn't too lucky either. He almost managed to get away from Max, but was now on the floor, with his back on the door. Max struggled to push him down, until he surprisingly gave up. Wasting no time, Max threw herself onto Lucas, her ass practically crushing his face. She wiggled her ass onto him, asscheeks rubbing against his face, before stopping, getting ready to push out a fart.

“Get ready. Hngh-“

PFFT-Pff- Pft-PFFFF-PFFFF-BLBLBRT!

Max’s eyes went wide, somewhat impressed with it’s sound.

”Oh my god, Lucas! Did you hear that?” She said with a laugh.

All Lucas could do was grunt, but funnily enough, he wasn’t a struggling mess trying to get her off like Mike was to Eleven. Max noticed this, but didn’t question it much. If anything, it made it a bit easier to handle. She leaned forwards, the middle of her shorts pushing out right on Lucas’ nose, as more of her unrelenting farts sputtered out.

PBLLLRT!

BRRRRRBBBLLLPT!

BLRRRPPPTFFF!

”Ugh, this feels so good for my stomach. I was holding this in hours. How’re you doing El?”

Eleven didn’t respond, as she couldn’t do anything else, make a face of determination, pushing out her absolute stink bombs on Mike, especially since she felt the relief of her deflating.

”Sheesh, you go girl.” Max said with pride.

After a few more farts, the two decided to double team. They placed Mike and Lucas together, dazed just enough so they could not move. Eleven and Max stood over them, with Max turning around to show her decently big ass to Lucas, putting her fingers right below her asscheeks to show how fat it was. Eleven took notice, but decided to shake her asscheeks instead, as not to copy Max.

“Do this, El. Boys love this.” Max said, bumping Eleven’s hip with hers. Eleven quickly obeyed, bumping hers along. Their asses jiggled decently, giving a quick show before the storm.

”Alright, you ready El?”

”Yeah.”

Max got on her hands and knees, backing up her ass to Lucas’ face, with Eleven following along with Mike’s face.

BRRRAAAAAPPPPT!

Both girls released simultaneously, their toxic clouds enveloping the boys' faces in a putrid symphony. Mike's eyes watered as he tried to turn away, but Eleven's firm grip on his wrists kept him locked in place.

"Oh god, El, please! Mmh!" Mike begged, his voice muffled beneath her ass.

Lucas, however, remained suspiciously quiet. Max once again glanced back to see his eyes closed, his expression a complex mixture of disgust and... something else. Was that a slight upward curve at the corners of his mouth?

Max’s heart oddly skipped a beat. There was no way that he was actually enjoying this, right? How much of an absolute freak could he be? Realizing this made Max feel weird, but also slightly aroused from the thought. The bulge in Lucas’ pants only grew bigger. Although his eyes were closed, knowing that his girlfriend’s smelly ass was plastered onto his face despite no sexual intention, made the boy practically go insane.

Max couldn’t believe herself, but he was actually winning her back faster than she would ever admit. She had to break the silence.

“El? Are you seeing this?” She said, in a tone akin to teasing.

“What?”

“I think Lucas is enjoying himself here.”

Max looked behind her, seeing his smile. It still was glued onto his face, but what really struck was the bulge that had formed in his pants. The sight made Max’s eyes wide, a slight blush creeping onto her face before she quickly snapped up.

“Oh my god!” Max laughed. “He’s actually into this!”

Lucas’ eyes shot open, immediately wiping the smile he didn’t even know he had. Sweat began to form on him, thinking up of a quick lie, but he knew that Max wasn’t easy to get through.

“No, I’m not! It’s just…I thought of something funny.”

Max snorted. This was the dumbest he had ever sounded to her, but she did always find that charming. She scooted her ass down, sitting firmly on his bulge.

“Oh really? Because I don’t see you resisting.”

El continued to release endless waves of gas on Mike, who had almost broken free multiple times, making her have to pin him down on the floor as they were in a wrestling match. The room had completey stunk of rotten protein and pounds of sulfur. The girls had managed to get used to it already, but the boys were basically placed in a chamber full of stink bombs. At least for Mike.

Lucas stayed quiet, he knew there was nothing that he could do about this now.

“You’re lucky that you’re still hot to me, Lucas, but this doesn’t mean that I’m gonna let you go yet.” Max said, shifting her hips left to right on his bulge, feeling the gas in her stomach gurgle its way down for another round.

“So, you’ll have to earn this instead.”

"Tell me what you want, Lucas," Max said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. She shifted again on his lap, feeling his hardness press against her. "Tell me what you want from me right now."

Lucas swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Max's intense gaze and her ass that had just assaulted his face with its fumes. "I... I want..."

"Say it," Max commanded, leaning closer.

"I want your... your farts," he finally admitted, his voice barely audible. "I want to smell them."

Max's eyebrows shot up. Even though she'd suspected it, hearing him say it out loud was something else entirely. "Well, aren't you a little pervert," she teased, but there was no malice in her voice—only curiosity and a strange excitement.

"Come on, Lucas," she said, turning around and positioning her ass over his face again. "Show me how much you want it."

Lucas hesitated, his movements tentative and shy. Max frowned, feeling impatient.

"You're not trying hard enough," she accused, and gave him a light push to encourage him.

Something in Lucas snapped. The gentle push, combined with the intoxicating scent still lingering in the air, broke whatever restraint he had left. With a growl that surprised even him, he grabbed Max's hips and pulled her down forcefully onto his face.

"Oh!" Max gasped, startled by his sudden aggression.

Lucas buried his face between her cheeks, inhaling deeply through his nose, seeking out every molecule of her gaseous emissions. His hands gripped her thighs tightly, keeping her firmly in place as he took deep, deliberate sniffs.

Meanwhile, Eleven was struggling with Mike, who had managed to partially free himself from her grasp. With a grunt of frustration, she gave him a hard shove, sending him tumbling across the floor until he collided with Lucas.

"What the—" Mike sputtered, finding himself suddenly face-to-face with Lucas, who was still enthusiastically sniffing at Max's backside.

Eleven didn't waste the opportunity. She quickly positioned herself next to Max, their hips touching as they hovered over the boys' faces. The girls exchanged a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between them.

"Ready?" Max whispered, feeling another wave building in her gut.

Eleven nodded, her face set with determination.

PPPPPBBBBBLLLLLLRRRRRRTTTTTT!

BRRRRRAAAAAAAPPPPPPFFFFFTTTT!

The dual assault hit both boys simultaneously, their fart clouds mingling into a noxious cocktail that filled the small room. Mike gagged and coughed, his face contorting in disgust, but Lucas—Lucas closed his eyes in ecstasy, nostrils flaring as he eagerly consumed the overlapping stench.

"Oh my god, look at him," Max giggled, watching Lucas's expression of pure bliss. "He's actually enjoying both of our farts!"

Eleven couldn't help but laugh too, even as she maintained her position over the struggling Mike. Her stomach gurgled loudly, signaling another wave approaching.

"I think I've got more," she warned, her abdomen tensing.

Max nodded, feeling her own intestines shift ominously. "Me too. And I think this one's gonna be bad."

The pressure built within them, their stomachs rumbling with increasing volume. Max's eyes widened as she felt something particularly wet and forceful making its way down.

BLLLRRRRRPPPPPPTTTT-SPLURT-PPPFFFTTT!

Her fart came out with alarming force, longer and wetter than before, ending with a suspicious splash that made even Lucas's eyes fly open in surprise. The smell was exponentially worse—rotten eggs mixed with spoiled dairy and something unidentifiable but thoroughly repulsive.

Not to be outdone, Eleven's body unleashed its own monster.

BRRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPP-SPLAT-PPPBBBBLLLLRRRTTT!

The wet, thunderous blast seemed to go on forever, the vibrations of it sending shivers up her spine. Relief flooded through her as she felt her stomach finally begin to deflate.

"Oh my god," Max moaned, clutching her belly. "That felt so good."

Eleven nodded in agreement, feeling lighter than she had in hours. "So much better."

Beneath them, Mike had reached his breaking point. With a strength born of pure desperation, he wriggled free from Eleven's loosened grip and scrambled to his feet. His face was pale, tinged with green, his eyes watering profusely.

"I can't—I can't do this," he choked out, stumbling toward the door. He fumbled with the lock, his hands shaking. "This is insane!"

The door flew open, and Mike bolted out without another word, his footsteps pounding down the hallway and out of the house.

"Mike!" Eleven called after him, a flicker of regret crossing her face.

Max, however, was distracted by Lucas, who hadn't moved an inch. He remained beneath her, his hands still gripping her thighs, his chest rising and falling with deep, satisfied breaths.

"Lucas?" she questioned, shifting to look at him properly.

His eyes met hers, dark and intense with something she'd never seen before. "That," he said, his voice rough, "was the hottest thing I've ever experienced."

Max blinked, genuinely surprised. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Dead serious," he replied, sitting up. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. "I never knew I was into this, but god, Max—you're incredible. Everything about you."

Max felt her heart flutter, a strange warmth spreading through her chest. It wasn't just that he'd endured their prank—he'd embraced it, found pleasure in something so bizarre and intimate. Something that was uniquely hers.

"So," she said, a slow smile spreading across her face as she leaned in closer, "does this mean you want me to eat more beans?"

Lucas laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "I want you to be you, Max. All of you—the good, the bad, and the gassy."

Eleven cleared her throat awkwardly, reminding them of her presence. "I should probably go check on Mike," she said, heading toward the door.

Max barely registered her friend's departure, too caught up in the way Lucas was looking at her—like she was the most fascinating creature he'd ever encountered.

"You know," she said, tracing a finger down his chest, "I think there's still some gas left in me."

Lucas's eyes darkened. "Is that right?"

"Mmhmm." She pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his lap. "Want to find out?"

As their lips met in a hungry kiss, Max realized that this revenge plan had backfired spectacularly—and honestly, she couldn't be happier about it.