Mrs. Riley (Patreon)

Longtown Prestige High is a great school to attend.  There’s many different classes to take, and many passionate teachers…  There’s a high graduation rate, as well. Lots of school pride to go  around!

If you’re a giant, that is.

For  mants? It’s a bit different. You have to deal with giant students,  teachers, and yes, even parents. Not to mention everything is much bigger than you. Unless you’re going to a private school, most schools don’t have much mant accessibility.

It  was a late, rainy afternoon. Mrs. Riley was wrapping up her economics  class. The woman was clearly tired and irritable. Giant students love  pushing teachers buttons, but mant students can’t. Tristan was on his  best behavior. Not talking, taking notes…

“I’ll  be keeping a few of you after class to discuss last week’s test,” Mrs.  Riley said. “You can get a little head start on your homework for the  remainder of class.”

Tristan pulled out his  SmallTablet, a mant sized tablet used for completing schoolwork, and  began tapping away. He had plans after school and wanted to enjoy them  to fullest without having the homework in the back of his mind.

“Tristan,” Mrs. Riley spoke, catching his attention. “Come here.”

“Wha, uh, okay,” he said nervously.

Admittedly,  Mrs. Riley intimidated him a little bit. But, that's what being a mant  is like. She’s a short, chubby southern lady. As a giant, there was no  reason to be nervous around her. But to mants, she had a reputation.

When  he reached the foot of her desk, she stood up from her chair. Tristan  was completely enveloped in her shadow. Her two huge, sandal clad feet  parked in front of him.

“W-What can I do for you, Mrs. Riley?”

The  giant looked at him, a tired expression on her face. She bent down,  reached out with her meaty fingers, and picked the boy up from the  floor.

“Woah!” He gasped, flying through the air.

Now  face to face with his teacher, Tristan felt an extreme uneasiness. It  was not unwarranted either, as the woman brought the boy to her lips,  pressing him against them. This was no kiss, however. Her tongue poked  out, licking the boy's forehead.

“What’re you-”

“Hush.” She said, “Don’t make this worse on yourself.”

“I don’t-”

She licked again to cut him off.

“Hey, Mrs. Riley?” Another student had approached the desk.

“Yes, Rebecca?”

“I was wondering if you could help me with this question I had?”

“Sure, honey, give me just a second.”

Mrs.  Riley placed a shocked Tristan onto her desk and sat in her chair. She  kicked off her sandals and propped her soles up in front of him. The  leathery smell hit him like a ton of bricks, and little bits of dirt had  fallen from the teacher’s weathered sole.

“I don’t understand, what’re you-”

“Lick my feet, Tristan. We’ll talk about why later.”

She turned back to Rebecca and adopted a more pleasant expression.

“What can I do for you, sweety?” She asked.

Tristan  was a nervous boy in general. Most times, he just did whatever he was  asked. A pushover. And feeling unsure of what to do, or who to tell  about what was happening, he did as she asked.

He began licking her heel.