TEN DAYS OF HELLBy SeabeePROLOGUEI suppose I am still alive, but sometimes I have serious doubts. How long havethese toes been my entire universe? Hours? Days? Weeks? Please allow me toexplain.

Until I experienced the incredible power of my teacher, Michelle Boles, I was anormal high school student. I may have had a pretty bad attitude at times (likemost teenagers), but I made reasonably good grades and involved myself invarious school activities. My high school was very small, and nestled right inthe heart of a tiny Southern town. It was so small, in fact, that even thesmallest bits of gossip had a way of traveling throughout the entire school at aspeed rivaling light! It was just such a bit of gossip that landed me where I amtoday: unable to move, amounting to little more than an ant-sized stain on theinsole of a well-worn shoe.

Ms. Michelle Boles was by far the prettiest teacher in the school, as well asthe toughest. School legend held that she had never given out an A in hercareer. Although she was in her late 30's, she appeared much younger. She hadcurly, sandy brown hair, and some of the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Althoughnot particularly tall, her slender frame combined with her ever-present highheels made her appear much taller. I had had a small crush on Ms. Boles eversince I entered high school, even though I knew it was silly. With her simplebeauty and sexy voice, she never failed to make me 'pay attention,' even duringthe most boring of English classes.

One day, a brand new rumor blazed its way around the schoolyard: it seemed thatMs. Boles was having an affair with Coach Cameron, head of the boy's basketballteam. At first I refused to believe it, but the rumor persisted. It seemed thatsightings of the two in various romantic positions were becoming more commonthan UFOs on the X-Files, and it became harder and harder to dismiss the story.

The last straw for me came when Grant Parker (one of the most honest people Ihad ever met) swore up and down that he had spotted the pair kissing backstagein the auditorium. Full of mixed emotions (jealousy?), I knew I had to find outfor myself.

THE BEGINNING (MONDAY)I devised a simple plan. Ms. Boles' classroom was in the interior of the school,and therefore it was one of the few rooms on campus that had no windows. It madesense that if the two wanted to engage in some type of romantic dalliance on theschool grounds, they would most likely venture there. I decided to hide thereafter school on Monday with my camera and tape recorder, and hope to catch a fewshots of the amorous duet. Armed with photos like that, I may even be able tomake the first A ever in her class!I set up shop underneath her desk. It had a solid back, so you could not seeunder it from the front. I doubted she would sit there, because she never evenused her desk during school-she always stood in the front of the room or sat ona small stool beside the chalkboard. I hadn't been in place very long whensuddenly my heart started beating fast-someone was coming! No, wait . . . twopeople were coming! Sure enough, before I knew it, a door slammed and Ms. Bolesand Coach Cameron were hitting it hard! I had the tape recorder rolling, and waspicking up a virtual cavalcade of pants, moans, and grunts. They were making somuch noise, that I didn't believe there was any way in the world they would hearmy camera shutter. I had to have at least one picture! I eased out from underthe desk, peeked around the corner, took aim, and pressed the button.


Have you ever had one of those moments when everyone in a room seemed to getquiet at once, and only your voice was heard (invariably in the midst of sayingsomething of an intensely embarrassing nature)? I had a similar experience rightat that moment. Ms. Boles and Coach Cameron apparently both inhaled at the sametime-the very moment my camera clicked. Through the viewfinder I saw two headswhirl in my direction at the same time, and my heart suddenly stopped beating.

At first, no one moved. We all just sat in stunned silence and stared. My firstinstinct was to run, but I knew it would do no good-they both knew full well whoI was. Then the thought occurred: 'Wait a minute! I have the upper hand here! Iam the one with the photo that could cost both members of this amorous duo theirjobs!' With an arrogance that only the truly young or truly stupid can exhibit,I smirked and said, 'Gotcha!'Anger flashed through the coach's eyes, and he jumped towards me. Just as he wasreaching out to wring my neck, I heard a second voice command 'STOP!' It soundedsimilar to Ms. Boles, yet somehow darker . . . colder . . . more forceful. I sawthe anger in Coach Cameron's eyes change instantly to fear. A lump began to formin the pit of my stomach. She spoke again: 'Leave us.' The coach did nothesitate in moving towards the door. As he reached for the door, he glanced backone final time. This time I detected yet another emotion lurking behind hiseyes. Was that . . . pity?Ms. Boles sat quietly for a long time after Coach Cameron closed the door. Shesimply stared at me. Finally she stood up, walked over to the door, and lockedit. This was such a small, petite woman, so why was I terrified? She walked backover and stared me right in the eyes. I struggled to meet her gaze. At longlast, she began to speak:'What did you want? Pictures? An audiotape? Why? To blackmail us? Or maybe tojerk off to later? It is really a shame-I really did like you. You used to be agood student. You used to have a lot of potential.'Her voice seemed wistful and dry. Some unknown terror had seized my body, and Ihad no chance of escaping it. An overwhelming sense of dread flooded the room.

Why was she referring to me in the past tense? I was still here, and I didn'tplan on leaving! If anyone was leaving this school, I thought, it was here!I was wrong.

She continued speaking, and here words resonated down my spine. 'You do realize,of course, that you will never show anyone that picture. No one will ever hearthat tape. You do realize that . . . you will never leave this room.' Almost asan afterthought she added, 'At least, by yourself.'I simply can't describe the next three seconds. I took half a step towards thedoor, when suddenly all five of my senses seemed to instantly overload. All thecells in my body felt as though they exploded in unison. I heard a horrificsound as lights whirled in front of my eyes. I tried in vain to scream, butthen, just as suddenly: it was over.

You would think that a human mind could not accept suddenly being reduced toant-sized, but somehow I knew instantly what had happened. I saw the scuffed tipof here shoe in front of me, and her head floating miles overhead. I saw a humanhair on the ground in front of me, coiled like a thick rope. In fact, I saw bitsof trash and dirt all around me that ordinarily would have been far tooinconsequential to note. Then I became aware of something else- Ms. Boles wasreaching for me.

My nightmare was about to begin.

I instinctively braced myself as the tips of her fingers closed on me, but I wasshocked to discover that I felt no pain at all. Somehow my body had acquired analmost elastic-like quality, giving in a little as she squeezed. She held me upbefore here eyes, and I witnessed the coldest, most sincerely evil smile I hadever seen. She began to play with my body, almost as if she were testing itscapabilities. If she held me between two fingers and pushed, she could actuallyreduce me to an almost invisible fraction of an inch! If she pulled instead, Iwould slightly expand to about an inch! I tried with every ounce of my will toeffectuate my own size-change, but to no avail-it was obvious that Ms. Boles wasnow in complete control. All I could do is wait for my fate to reveal itself. Ididn't have to wait long.

Her voice ripped through me like a shotgun blast: 'You are going to die, tinyone. Maybe not today, but soon. Your body will never be found. As you teacher,however, I feel it is my duty to teach you a few things before you disappearforever from this earth. You will have ten days to learn that the female body isto be worshipped and adored, not spied upon. In ten day, you will become veryintimate with every inch of my body, and you will learn to worship it as yournew universe. At the end of that ten days, I shall decide how to end your life.''By the way, it is useless to attempt escape.' With those words she set me downon the desk. I tried to get up, but I found my body to be completelyunresponsive. 'As you can see,' she continued, 'I slightly altered my spell. Youcannot move your body if it is not in contact with mine. Thus, you would not getvery far.' After speaking these words, she merely smiled, picked me up again,and dropped me in a pocket. 'Get some rest tonight. Your lessons starttomorrow.'I was plunged into darkness, but at least I could move again while inside herpocket. I thought about her face, her body, her voice, and everything I had everfound attractive about Ms. Michelle Boles. Suddenly it no longer seemed soalluring! I felt if I could just survive the next ten days, maybe she would havea change of heart. What else could I do? I fell into a deep despair and awaitedmorning.

DAY ONE (TUESDAY)'Good morning, little ant. Are you ready for your first lesson? You will learnto love my hair today. I'd hang on, if I were you.' These were the only wordsthat were spoken to me all day. I suddenly found myself tightly bound by anauburn rope. The ground beneath me was approximately level, so I knew I must benear the top of her scalp. I estimated my size at a quarter inch. The next thingI knew, my dense prison was thrust into continuous motion- Ms. Boles had begunto move.

As she sat down for breakfast, I took stock of my situation. I was held tightly,but I was not in pain (thanks in no small part, I'm sure, to the elasticproperties of my miniscule body). An oily smell hung in the air, and I began tofeel a thin film of oil collecting on my skin. This was removed as she showered,however, and my new priority was not to drown in either the water or theshampoo! I felt her fingers press, prod, and knead me as she caressed theshampoo into her scalp.

Next my skin was singed as she dried and curled her hair, all in preparation forspending the day in school. I almost lost consciousness as her hairsprayfumigated my new world, but I managed to hold on. When she arrived at the highschool, I screamed in agony and terror, but there was no way my tiny, tiny voicecould be audible to the human ear. I was constantly bounced and jerked as Ms.

Boles turned and moved her head. Occasionally, tiny bits of scalp, dirt, orsweat would collect within my reach, allowing me the only nourishment I wouldfind during my 24-hour ordeal.

I listened as Ms. Boles taught her class in the normal way, completely ignoringthe fact that she had a small man languishing in her light brown locks. She evencalled my name twice when she was taking roll, and appeared to be irritated bymy absence! I longed to be back at my desk, my life again normal, but that wasnot to be. I was no more than a minor scalp irritation to my giant teacher,barely staying in one piece as her huge fingernails would reach up to quicklyscratch the itch I must be creating. Although I could not see them, I could hearmy former classmates milling about, completely oblivious to the fact that I wasso close at hand.

I remained in position all day, from school, to the gym (where I suffered inagony under a sweat-soaked baseball cap), back to her home. By the time Ms.

Boles' bedtime rolled around, I was once again covered in a thick film of oil,and begged for release from my bondage. She slept through the night with mestill bound to her scalp, sometimes rolling the weight of her head on top of me.

I finally slept, and dreaded what my next lesson may be.

DAY TWO (WEDNESDAY)I awoke upon Ms. Boles fingertip, looking up into an impossibly large eye. Shebegan to speak, once again marking the only time my existence would beacknowledged during the day: 'You spent enough time learning to love my hair.

Today I think I need to keep an eye on you.'That is exactly what she did.

I was compressed until I was little more than the size of a piece of dust, anddeftly perched upon a single eyelash. I tightly wrapped my arms and legs aroundthe hair, horrified of what would happen should I fall. I had no need toworry-the next thing I saw was what appeared to be a huge black monster with athousand arms approaching me: Ms. Boles was applying her mascara.

The mascara roughly brushed through her eyelashes, drenching me in a thick coatof black goo. I had just enough time to wipe my face clean before it hardened,effectively gluing me to the eyelash. As Ms. Boles blinked for the first time, Ifelt my stomach rise into my throat-my entire body was pumped up and downcontinuously at impossible speeds.

The eyes that I once felt were so beautiful now filled me with unspeakablehorror. If I craned my head around, I could peer directly into Ms. Boles'blimp-sized eyeball, watching it roll and jerk as she glanced around her. Istayed in place all day, and for the first time saw all of my mountainousclassmates as she taught the English class. I uselessly screamed out to them,but they remained completely oblivious to my existence on their teacher's eye.

If they only knew.

My nerve-wracking journey ended when Ms. Boles finally fell asleep. I was stillhopelessly adhered to here eyelash, but at least I was no longer being bouncedup and down like a human basketball. All I could do now was wait until morning.

DAY THREE (THURSDAY)I awakened as water drenched my body. I found myself on a counter, and the hugewaterfall that had just engulfed me was merely an errant splash of water fromthe sink. Since I was no longer touching Ms. Boles, my body was paralyzed, and Ihad no choice but to wait patiently for my next assignment, despite theknowledge that my entire life was in the hands of my beautiful (but deadly)teacher.

'Ah, you're awake!' she exclaimed. 'Excellent! Today is a very special day foryou! I realized last night that I have been very inconsiderate, and that Ihaven't even taken the time find out how you're doing. Well, today I am going tospend the entire day listening to you!'I knew instantly where I would be spending the day.

Sure enough, I was soon balanced on a Q-tip, which was inserted into Ms. Boles'ear. I was roughly pressed into a sticky wall, which I quickly surmised wasactually a wall of flesh coated with a foul wax. A dreadful stench permeated theair, and although I could move, my feet and hands would quickly sink into theyellowish mire. Soon I was as hopelessly enmeshed as a fly on flypaper.

A small amount of light streamed in from the opening to her ear, so I was atleast able to look around (not that there was much of a view). My newenvironment was composed entirely of shiny skin, wax, and hair. I also learnedthat Ms. Boles was not being sincere when she offered to listen to me: eachnoise I made was greeted with a vigorous shake of her head, only lodging medeeper into the thick wax.

The day continued to drag on. I listened to a lecture on dangling prepositions,and vigorously prayed (silently!) that my suffering would soon end. It was notto be.

DAY FOUR (FRIDAY)'TGIF!' These were the words that greeted me as I inched back intoconsciousness. 'It's the last day of school this week, and you have been such agood student so far! I hope you are learning well that my body is to be lovedand worshipped!'Today I am going to allow you to do a great service for your teacher-you get tokeep my nose clean! I have had a touch of a cold lately, and I hate walkingaround sniffling all day. So you just get in there and keep me clear for theday, and maybe later I will go ahead and blow my nose and end things for good!'She spoke these words with such a cheerful and pleasant tone that my mind couldsimply not accept my fate-I was literally about to be plunged into a human nose!My legs were grasped tightly between Ms. Boles' fingers, and I watched in horroras her nostril enveloped my body. Soon her finger was pushing on the bottom ofmy feet, and I was driven high into her nose. Her hungry snot quickly seized mybody, and I tried in vain to free myself. It was really true: I was a humanbooger!Air rushed back and forth across my face with each breath that she took, and myviscous prison soon hardened, rendering my limbs useless once again. If I lookeddown, I could see out of the nasal tunnel to her breasts miles below. I wonderif she really was going to blow her nose, and then probably flush me away, butit never happened-I simply spent 24 hours of hell encased in snot in myteacher's nose.

Why did I ever try to spy on her?DAY FIVE (SATURDAY)I awoke with a start. A huge finger was digging into my balmy home, trying tofind me. Finally, I was scraped from the wall of Ms. Boles' nose, and rolledbetween her fingertips like a small bit of trash. She pulled on my body,enlarging it to about an inch in length, and hurriedly picked the dried mucousfrom my body. She washed me in the sink, and began my daily lecture:'My God-you must be starved! I don't know how you have managed to survive on adiet of wax and snot! Today you get a special treat: all the food you can eat!'I found my heart racing with excitement, although my mind knew better. Thiswoman was simply incapable of compassion, and I knew her offer must be too goodto be true. The funny thing is, I had not really been that hungry-I guess mymind had been too preoccupied with the fact that I was a tiny slave to eventhink much about food. That all ended with the suggestion of eating, andsuddenly my stomach was wracked with hunger. I watched in eager apprehension asmy teacher walked into the hallway, and gazed upon herself in the mirror.

Suddenly she bared her teeth (while maintaining the faint trace of a smile),compacted me back to tiny size, and ruthlessly wedged me between her lower frontteeth.

So I would be 'learning to love' her mouth today. Great. Although I may have hadprivate fantasies of kissing this woman in the past, this was definitely notwhat I had in mind. Her saliva swirled around my body, and I drank it withgusto. She swallowed enough to allay any fears of drowning, but I still had tostruggle to keep my head from being smothered by the back wall of her lower lip.

She decided to eat breakfast, and I opened my mouth and occasionally snaggedsmall bits of egg, bacon, and bread as the incredibly powerful teeth ground themto pieces above me. The orange juice slightly burned, but was quickly washedaway by her ever-present spit.

I was thankful that she was not teaching school today, because each word shespoke reverberated through my head like a cacophony of jackhammers. My arms werewedged too tightly to cover my ears, and an insatiable ringing in my earsfollowed each sound she uttered. The noise was almost enjoyable, however,compared to the horrible odor that would sometimes invade my oral home. I wouldoccasionally hear a deep gurgle, followed by a healthy belch, and my nostrilswould be assaulted by a truly gut-wrenching stench.

This continued throughout the day as Ms. Boles constantly talked, ate, drank,burped, and rubbed me with her rough tongue. My stomach was finally full, but myspirit was dangerously close to being broken. Once I endured a night of snoringfrom my enamel confines, at least I would have made it halfway through my'lessons.' I may not have been learning to love my teacher's body, but I wascertainly learning to respect it.

DAY SIX (SUNDAY)I came barreling out of my Saturday world, attached to a piece of dental floss.

I continued to stick to the thick string in a clump of plaque as she continuedto clean between her remaining teeth, pulling out horrid bits of food and film.

I was unceremoniously dumped on the bathroom counter along with the discardedfloss, and my now useless body was forced to simply lie there as Ms. Bolescontinued to primp in the mirror. I was again struck by her beauty, and nearlyforgot that this woman was a monster to be feared. Perhaps my lessons wereworking, after all.

She glanced down my way after a few minutes and announced: 'It's almost time forchurch, and it is time to find a new place for you to worship! You did anexcellent job all over my head, so I think it is time for the rest of my body.

Hmmm . . . I hear that the air conditioning was broken at the church, so maybe Ican find another use for you. I hate sweating, so I am going to count on you tokeep me cool today.'With that, she grasped me, enlarged me a bit, and then pushed me roughly onto asmooth white creamy surface. I had no idea what was going on until I saw anunderarm rapidly engulfing my field of vision: she had stuck me in herdeodorant! Sure enough, I was rubbed mercilessly onto a stubby field of moistskin, and held in place by a generous application of stick deodorant. Soon Ifelt a shirt lower around me, and then Ms. Adams dropped her arm to her side.

There is no way to convey the heat and pressure that suddenly accosted my sense.

I was rubbed raw by the friction that accompanied each movement of her arm. Idon't know how I was functioning as a deodorant (though my nose told me notwell), but I was certainly not being an effective antiperspirant! Her sweatcoated me, stinging my eyes and mouth. I heard her laughing and talking andgesturing, as her audience remained unaware that each movement was adding to mytorture.

She left me under her arm all day, even during her weekly Sunday tennis match.

By the time she retired for the night (hugging me tightly to her skin with atoo-small T-shirt), I felt like I had literally been basted and cooked by thesweat and heat. The odor caused me to faint numerous times, so at least the dayseemed to go by more quickly than usual. I didn't even want to imagine what elseshe could possibly have in store.

DAY SEVEN (MONDAY)When I opened my eyes, I appeared to be in some type of white boat. My body wasonce again immobile, but far above I could see the nude upper body of mytormentor. She was again getting ready for school, and had not yet acknowledgedmy presence. It was the first time I had seen her without a bra, and her breastsbobbled alluringly in front of her. They appeared perfectly round and smooth,and I once again felt myself becoming aroused at the sight of this beautifulwoman.

Finally she glared down and flashed her gleefully sadistic smile. 'Today's theday your dreams come true, tiny boy! You finally get to feel these!' she said,as she gently massaged her breasts. Was the boat I was in actually . . . a bra?It seemed impossible, but sure enough, the floor was lifted and I was on anexpress ride to Bosomland. Her heavy boob-flesh slammed into me at high speed,and movement returned to my limbs just in time to enable me to assume aspread-eagle position just below her monstrous nipple. The world went dark asshe latched the bra behind her back, and I was pulled extremely tight againsther warm skin.

I had to time my breathing with her movements. I was only able to inhale as hermammoth breast bobbled upwards, giving me a brief respite from the crushingweight. I discovered that if I ran my hands against the rough, bumpy circlesurrounding her nipple, it would start to grow, and give me a tiny amount ofbreathing room. Once again the heat was oppressive, and the sharp movements mademy head spin.

The worst part of the day was when she would take an opportunity to press herfingers against my back, and grind me into her boob in a circular motion. Idon't know if she was trying to pleasure herself or torture me, but she seemedto be doing both! Although my immediate environment was not quite as hostile aspast days, the flesh surrounding me just molded itself to my body, and I wasbarely able to survive the relentless pounding pressure. I was no more than atoy to this woman. She made that perfectly clear.

She slept with me still firmly molded to her breast, and only by the grace ofGod did she not roll over onto her stomach, ending my life for good. I should beso lucky.

DAY EIGHT (TUESDAY)I had known this day was coming all along, but I was still not prepared for theactual reality of the situation. My stint at Breast Central Station was broughtto an end when the alarm clock sounded on a warm Tuesday morning. Ms. Boles liedaround for a few minutes simply kneading me into her breast and nipple, beforefinally pulling me out of her bra. It must have aroused her, because to give mea hint of my new home, she pulled me out to a maximum height and held me overher pussy. The smell hit me immediately.

I had had my share of ladies already, so I knew the intoxicating smell of awoman's private parts, especially when she is turned on. But as strong as thatodor can be at normal size, once you are an inch tall, it is quite simply beyonddescription. She held me there for a long time, slowly moving me up and down soI could view every inch in all of its glory. I shuddered when I realized howeasily this mammoth set of lips could swallow me whole. This was going to be ahard day.

She dropped me on the bed while she showered, the paralysis quickly squelchingany hopes of escape. She returned to the room completely naked, and stood besidethe bed as she finished toweling herself dry. She finally spoke: 'I have beenexcited about this day. I know how you little boys always wanted to get into mypants, so here is your big opportunity! You get to be teacher's little sex toytoday! Aren't you excited?! I hope you can hold your breath, or else yourlessons will end today!'With that, she picked me up and brought me close to her pussy lips. Even theyseemed to be smiling! The smell had greatly subsided since her shower, at leaston the outside. Once my head made contact with her slick flesh, however, I wasonce again overpowered by her sexual odor. Her stomach tightened as she slid meinto the slick tunnel. Everything went black as I felt my body being massaged byher vaginal walls. She stopped pushing, and I knew I must be somewhere deepinside her.

If I pushed forward with my arms and legs, I could open up her lips just enoughto allow a tiny bit of murky air to penetrate my dark wet cell. Unfortunately,each time I pushed I was greeted by a contraction that threatened to crush mybody within its throes. In addition, it seemed to grow wetter and wetter by theminute.

I heard the rustling noises as she put on her underwear and dress, and it greweven hotter. As she walked, I was constantly ground back and forth, only leadingto more sexual arousal on the part of my teacher. By the time she arrived atschool, I was literally choking on her cum, and my nose was burning with herscent. I knew death would come quickly if I lost consciousness, so I struggledto keep pushing and kicking so I could get air.

I wondered if I would ever want to have sex again if I should live through thisordeal, but somehow I knew the point was moot. She could not allow me to live.

She could not allow her secret to be revealed. I was destined to die a tiny sextoy for my giant teacher. All I could do was try to survive day by day. Ofcourse, that was much easier said than done.

I managed to make it through the day inside Ms. Boles' pussy, and even found mysurroundings somewhat comfortable as she laid down to sleep. Although my bodywas almost completely stiff from her dried cum, my stomach was once again full(as I couldn't help but swallow tons of her discharge during the day), and Ifelt warm and safe. Maybe the worst was over.


DAY NINE (WEDNESDAY)I awoke to once again find myself ultra-tiny and laying on the tip of Ms. Boles'finger. Her eyes seemed to literally shine with a new-found sense of cruelty,and I began to shake in apprehension, panic, and fear. I felt my stomachconvulsing as I heard her words:'You little asshole. You are nothing but a little tiny piece of shit. I havebeen given so much shit lately at school about Coach Cameron, that I think it ismy turn to give you a little!'Her laugh chilled me to the bone. She grasped me between her fingers andproceeded to rub my head up and down her butt cheeks. I shuddered at the smallbumps and hairs, but she was obviously enjoying the feel of my tiny face againsther ass. She then began to slowly rub me up and down the length of her crack,and I had to close my eyes and hold my breath to keep from throwing up. Theinner ridges seemed to take a layer of skin off my face, and I screamed for herto stop!After what seemed like hours, she finally stopped and held me once again up toher face. With a completely blank expression, she softly whispered three simplewords: 'Enjoy your day.'She bent over, and in a blur I was whisked back to her ass, and I found my headbeing forced into her pungent asshole. I yelled out in pain and fear, but onlysucceeded in filling my mouth with what felt like skin and sweat. I was jammedin up to my waist, but my legs were left to dangle on the outside. She stood upstraight, and every trace of air in my lungs was forced out by the crushingpressure.

As she began to move, my body felt as though it were being forced through awringer-tremendous muscles pumped, flexed, and hardened around me. What littleair remained available to me was filled with a stench so powerful, so real, thatit was almost tangible. I cursed and spit and vomited, but only succeeded inlodging myself deeper into her acrid hole. Each step revealed a new level oftorture, and I felt sure that I would die here as a human dingleberry.

Despite my suffering, nothing prepared me for what happened next: Ms. Bolesdecided to take a seat. I felt the downward momentum, and then everything wentblack as I felt my body flatten under the squashing tonnage. I guess it was thesame devilish magic that made me my current size that kept me from dying rightthen and there, but it was obvious that she wasn't through with me yet. She keptme prisoner in and under her ass all day, and the English language simply doesnot have the words to describe the mind-numbing torture I experienced.

I did have several respites from my position in her caustic asshole, but theywere not welcome rests. I would hear a horrible grumbling noise, and then Iwould suddenly be assaulted by a foul blast of air that would burn my nose andskin and shoot me forcefully into Ms. Boles' cotton underwear. Before I wouldeven have the chance to recover, however, she would simply stick her finger backin her hole and shove me way up inside, further than ever.

As she slept that night, I prayed for death. I had finally given up all hope andthe will to live. I tried to move around inside her ass, perhaps to recover somefeeling in my extremities, but it was no use. I was truly nothing more than atiny piece of shit to my gargantuan teacher.

DAY TEN (THURSDAY)THE ENDINGThis was it-the final day. I awoke with a mixture of total fear and relief. Ihad somehow ended up deep, deep within Ms. Boles' ass during the night, and shewas forced to take her morning shit to remove me from my smelly hiding place. Ifloated helplessly in the toilet, and hoped that she would just flush me awayand end this madness. But luck had not been my strong suit for the past tendays. She closed the lid and left me in odorous darkness while she finishedgetting ready, before finally fishing me out with a net from her aquarium. Shelaid my paralyzed body on the counter, and spoke to me for the final time:'Here it is, tiny boy. Time for your last lesson. Now that you have learned totruly appreciate my body, there is nothing else I can teach you. Therefore, I'mafraid it is the end of the line for you. I haven't exactly decided on a fittingend for a Peeping Tom like you yet, but I'm sure I will get some inspiration bythe end of the day. At any rate, today you get to learn your true place inrelation to women-you are now nothing but dirt under my feet.'With that, she lifted me up, pushed me down to near microscopic size, and heldme over a navy blue high heel she had just popped off her foot. I felt the heatrising from the leather long before I was actually inserted, but by the time shedropped me, I truly knew what Hell must feel like. The bottom of the shoe burnedmy skin, and I slid down towards the shadow at the toe of the shoe as she tiltedit within her hand. I was starting to feel a little bit better when somethinghuge suddenly filled my field of vision: Michelle Boles' toes.

Each toe was the size of a house compared to my miniscule stature, and I sawdetail in them that I am sure no man had ever witnessed before. Long before theyencapsulated me, I saw the small grooves and ridges making up my teacher's toeprints. I saw the tiny bits of dead skin and small hangnails flaking off fromall over. I saw the little bitty bits of dirt and grime that had already beenground into her foot from the small amount of walking she had already done. AndI saw the horrifying motion her toes made as they raised and spread inanticipation of pinning their tiny captive.

Sure enough, I was slammed to the floor of the shoe as the toes covered me. AllI could do was lie still as they pushed me deep into the smelly insole of theshoe. She began to walk, and each crushing step caused bright lights to flashbefore my eyes, despite the blackness surrounding me. It only took seconds forthe heat to rise to oven-like levels, and for the fumes wafting from her entirefoot to cause my face to burn and swell.

She contented herself during the day to play with me like a tiny pebble, andbounce her foot as if she was keeping time with her favorite song. I bouncedfrom her toes to the ball of her foot, on to her arch, and even under her rough,rough heel. I have no idea how I kept from becoming a tiny stain, but I somehowmanaged to survive as a speck of foot-dirt.

After a couple of hours at the school, I was beginning to believe I may survivethe day in my teacher's shoe after all, but that's when I heard a voice Irecognized immediately: it was Melanie. Melanie was the girl I had had my eye onfor years. She had straight blond hair and a dynamite body, but I never had thecourage to ask her out. If she only knew how close I was to her as spoke to Ms.

Boles at her desk. Though I was currently centered directly under a monstrousbig toe, I could just make out the words being spoken: Melanie was informing herteacher that she would not be in school tomorrow, because her family was leavingearly to go to the mountains for the weekend. She laughed and said she hopedthat her shoes would make it, because she didn't have any hiking boots.

I knew instantly the shoes she was talking about: she wore the same pair everyday. Melanie had an incredibly ragged-out pair of black, hard-leather flats thatshe had worn to school (without socks) every single day for the past threeyears. I had even given her a hard time about them once, complaining that Icould smell them as soon as she entered the room (which I could)!At any rate, this line of conversation seemed to excite Ms. Boles for somereason, because she pushed her toe hard into the sole of her shoe, literallyimbedding my body deep within her toe-flesh. I was unable to free myself, and Ifelt as if I had been glued to her toe-pad. She asked Melanie if she wasseriously going to wear those shoes the entire weekend, and once she got anaffirmative answer, she asked her to stop by her desk after class.

Despite this rather strange conversation, the thought that she might actuallydispose of me by passing me off to someone else never crossed my mind. I wouldlearn very soon.

Once class ended, I was still helplessly stuck to the bottom of my teacher'ssmelly big toe while she began talking to Melanie. She told her that she wasconsidering purchasing a pair of shoes like she was wearing, and wanted to knowif they were comfortable. It was Melanie that asked if she wanted to try one on,and she readily agreed. Careful not to let me drop from her toe, she slipped offher pump and inserted her tiny-man-accessorized foot into Melanie's flat leathershoe.

How can I even begin to describe the smell? Imagine rotten cheese, eggs, fish,and fruit being left out in the sun for days, and then dropped in a dump andcovered in shit. Are you getting the idea? The same shoes that nearly choked mefrom across the room at normal size now became my universe as Ms. Boles draggedher toe across the bottom, ripping me loose and causing me to fall onto thedirt-blackened leather sole. As she withdrew her foot, I wanted to run andscream, but the no-contact-with-her-body paralysis set in, and all I could dowas internally tremble.

The light was replaced with a sweat-soaked foot sole, which rapidly descendedupon me, and seemed not to notice the tiny human-shaped obstacle in its path.

Melanie's foot was much smoother than Ms. Boles', and felt almost squishy andsmooshy. It easily grew accustomed to my presence, and merely mashed me into thehorrible insole like one more piece of inconsequential dirt. My paralysis didnot leave, and all I could do was dry-heave as the pain, stench, and pressureoverpowered me.

EPILOGUEMelanie made good on her promise to wear these shoes to the mountains, and shehas worn them every day since. I am thoroughly ground into her insole below hertoes, and I can only survive by allowing the occasional sweat, dirt, or skin todrop into my mouth. I don't know how long I have been here or how long I willmanage to survive: I guess everyone has long forgotten about me by now. Whoknows? Maybe Melanie will one day buy a new pair of shoes, and I will simply bediscarded to slowly starve and die. Until then, I will remain simply a humanstain under a teenager's foot.