Morning Glory (Chapter 1) (Patreon)

Will was frozen in place, too bewildered to move a muscle, let alone process what was happening. One second, he was clowning around in the vacant detention classroom with his best friend Mark, waiting for the monitor teacher Mrs. Gabrielle Parker. The next second, he and his pal were marooned in the abruptly vast cavern of the room upon the carpet, surrounded by the towering spires of the desk legs. If he had to guess, the entire world had either suddenly swelled exponentially in size, or both he and his friend had shrunk to an inch and a half tall.

“Well, isn’t this a curious scene,” a feminine voice from behind them boomed. The door shut loudly behind, cracking like thunder in the tiny ears of Will and Mark. “A little pair of troublemakers, suddenly finding themselves in quite a bit of trouble. Oh, what a pickle.”

Both boys turned around and found themselves staring up at who they presumed to be Mrs. Gabrielle Parker. Or, at least, the yacht-sized, jet-black patent leather high heels of Mrs. Gabrielle Parker. Plus the rest of her enormous, svelte body far above.

Will had never even laid eyes upon Mrs. Parker. Normally, when he and his friend earned themselves morning detention, they got some old guy who slept through it and didn’t care if they messed around on their phones. In no way was he expecting this teacher to be piercingly beautiful, nor indeed, for her to appear as a two-hundred-seventy-five-foot behemoth.

Mrs. Parker tousled her dishwater-blonde hair in manicured nails, then planted both fists on her hips. She tapped a titanic foot impatiently on the carpet, the vibrations of which were felt fully by Will and Mark several stone’s throws away. A dictatorial smile smeared on her lips.

“Haven’t got anything to say, have you?” the thirty-something educator barked, her smile vanishing. She took a step forward, rumbling the earth beneath the still-petrified shrunken boys. “Very well. For today’s detention, your mouths will not be necessary. Certainly not for speaking, anyway, though I’d wager we’ll find a use for your waggling tongues somehow or other.” She bent down, a talon-like hand spread wide to collect her students.

The moment at last caught up to Will as the woman’s giant palm lowered. He turned on his heels and made an attempt to flee; Mark, still in a waking coma of shock, was snatched instantly into her hand. Before Will could get more than ten long strides away, though, the shadow of her clawed hand fell and he, too, was grabbed. Trunk-like fingers cinched firmly around his sides.

After a moment of anonymous rocking within the dark, balmy confines of the woman’s giant fist, Will was at last getting his bearings. He so desperately wished for an answer: any indication that what was happening was a nightmare rather than a twisted reality. Wake up!

The giant fingers uncurled and Will rolled down the fleshy gangplank of the woman’s palm, plopping beside Mark on the carpet under the woman’s desk at the front of the room. Groaning, he was about to whisper a word of comfort to his equally scared friend, when the words were ripped right from his throat. Turning over, Will watched as the majestic form of the detention teacher’s foot crested out of the patent leather prison where it was trapped. A wrinkled, meaty sole bore overhead. Incredible, globe-sized bare toes wriggled freely in the open air. First one foot, then the other emerged, and rested on the carpet before the puny Will and Mark.

“I…” he stammered dumbly. “I… d-don’t know what’s… hap-”

“It’s quite simple, really, Willary,” Mrs. Parker boomed from above. Her toes scrunched idly, pinching the carpet fibers. “You and Mark have been setting a decidedly poor example as model students in this school. Rather than let you coast by yet again, you’ve been passed to me for a more… educative round of detention. One which I expect will stick with you so long as you possess consciousness.”

“What’s she mean?” Mark peeped.

“What I mean…” the woman sighed, her lips curling into another cruel smirk. “…is that the two of you are going to re-learn the pecking order of this institution. Who’s in charge, and who’s underfoot. By way of metaphor, then, you won’t so much be spending detention under my tutelage as you will under that of my feet.”

Will’s jaw hung limply open. He watched as the giant teacher rubbed her heavy, broad soles into the floor, rolling her toes and flexing them out. Tanned legs like temple pillars reached far above, with bulging runner’s calves catching the light just so. It was impossible not to let his gaze drift into the doughy crevices between Mrs. Parker’s freewheeling toes, catching glimpses of cottony toejam and gridded skin patterns.

“Well, what are you waiting for, type-written instructions?” Mrs. Parker purred. She tipped her twin insteps upward and pressed them together, creating a little teepee out of her feet. “Begin massaging immediately. How long this lasts will be determined by how poor of a job you do.”

Frightened beyond belief and nauseous from the whiplash of this insanity, Will’s survival instinct kicked in. Though he hadn’t been “harmed,” judging by the cool, stern quality of Mrs. Parker’s personality, not to mention the boat-sized naked feet before him, it seemed a wise decision to listen for now. Hands shaking, he crept forward toward the woman’s gigantic digits.

“C’mon, Mark,” he hissed to his friend. “Let’s do it.”

Will led the way. The first hand the boy laid on the bulb of the giantess’s toe sent a little shock through him: partly from static, but mostly the bizarre warping of his known world. How could she do this? How could any of this be possible? Feeling the warmth of the foot, and the blood pulsing beneath the toejam-scented flesh, Will felt more like he was touching a singular living creature than just part of an ordinary woman.

“Rub, boys,” Mrs. Parker instructed. She parted her feet again, creating a miniature canyon out of her velvety, creased soles turned on their sides. Her toes bent and flexed again, popping the joints. “I will not ask nicely a third time. Of that, be assured.”