Morning Glory (Chapter 3) (Patreon)

Expertly lifting both feet from the ground, the teacher kept the students pinched like trapped flies on her plush sole skin. Then, dipping her toes into the musty black caves of the high heels, she shoved her feet within. With them went the boys, tumbling head-over-heels beneath the looming shadow and beefy mass of Mrs. Parker’s feet.

Will immediately commenced hyperventilating. Despite the comfort of panic, though, he recalled her words and forced himself to breathe slower. Even as the giant sole he’d previously been showing such reverence collided violently with his body, pancaking him against the leathery insole beneath. His limbs were spread-eagled as he was molded into the creamy flesh of the giantess’s overworked foot.

There was a shift, and the full brunt of the monstrous ped seemed to unfurl its weight upon him. She was standing on him and his best friend, with one boy in each shoe. Fortunately, Will was spared the expected crushing by the arched shape of Mrs. Parker’s sole. It wasn’t much, and barely enough space to allow for his thumb-sized body shape, but sufficient to keep him from imploding against her sole.

Slow, measured breaths only just kept him conscious. The air was hot and stuffy, like the inside of a car, piped exclusively with the briny aura of Mrs. Parker’s musty toes and oily sole. Every breath Will took, he felt he was imbibing the very essence of the teacher’s odor. It was making him dizzy, even as he did his best to lie still beneath the living, breathing beast of the foot and conserve his strength.

For two straight hours, Mrs. Parker wandered idly about the classroom in steady laps. Voices were heard from above, some from the woman, and some from her unassuming students. Sometimes even laughter. Those clueless kids no idea that their intelligent, beautiful educator had a pair of hapless class clowns enslaved within her oppressive high heels.

She’d shift her weight from one shoe to the other, hardly staying still for longer than a half-minute. Will labored whenever the woman’s sole came smushing down over him, though he still felt guilty whenever he was gifted a break, as he knew then that Mark was then experiencing the very same hell of infinite weight and gradually sticky, perspiring foot flesh asserting its strength upon his body.

The poor air conditioning in the classroom didn’t help, nor did Mrs. Parker’s constant motion, as her high heel interior transformed into a swampy, stale realm. The wet leather reeked to high heaven, but was soon surpassed by the moist, rancid secretions of the woman’s dainty pores.

Despite all this torture of his senses and bones, Will endeavored to ease his new status. So, quivering with disgust and terror that he might expend too much air, the boy stuck out his tongue again. Of course it was instantly met by the brackish, buttery ceiling of sole flesh continually caving down against his body as though he was part of the shoe itself. A warm, crystalline drop of sweat rolled down his tongue and into his throat like a triple shot of vodka.

Nevertheless, Will fought through the horror and lapped with increasing ferocity. Anything to make her see that he was sorry for all those times he’d been late to classes, skipped his homework, littered in the soccer field, and spray-painted lewd symbols on the sheds. His jaw ached and his heart fluttered, his stomach on the verge of rejecting all he’d drunk and inhaled, but still Will pressed on.

Time dragged into a motionless state. Will was just beginning to wonder if it was evening, when in fact the bell had only just rung to signal lunch hour. He was grateful and more than a little shocked. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the light, and his skin to adjust to the cool air granted when there wasn’t a leviathan foot plastered overtop of his frail inch-and-a-half form. A pair of slender fingers dropped into the shoe and plucked him out by his leg; however, the three hours of underfoot brutalizing was so discombobulating, Will didn’t even notice he was upside down.

Both boys were dropped casually back on the carpet where they’d started, seemingly so long ago. Mark looked all the worse for wear, and Will had to guess he looked similar. Like POWs, on a much smaller scale.

“I’d like to personally congratulate you two for having completed detention with me,” Mrs. Parker declared. She beamed expectantly down at the pair of shrunken boys sprawled on the floor between her victorious bare feet.

For the first time, her smile was not vindictive, but in fact, almost earnest. Despite himself, it gave Will hope.

“What do you say, boys?” she asked.

“T-Thank you,” Will guessed quickly, slapping his friend on the shoulder to repeat it. “Thank you… ma’am. For… teaching us.”

“Now that’s the attitude I like to hear,” Mrs. Parker said. “I must say, and I don’t say this often, I came very close to being impressed with your efforts. Especially you, Willary, and all the attempts you made to lick me during class. I know that couldn’t have been easy, nor could it have been particularly appetizing. I do like to stay on the move, after all. Following that, I have no choice but to admit that you two are, truly, two of the most successful detention pupils I’ve ever had the fortune of using.”

Will allowed himself the luxury of a smile. This was it. They’d made it.

“Thus, I hope those words can be of some comfort to you, as I send you on your way at last, to a place beyond which is hopefully better equipped to deal with troublemakers,” Mrs. Parker sighed. She lifted her right foot up, the very one which Will had spent three hours pampering to the best of his pathetic ability. It hovered overhead like a terrible, ovular UFO constructed of a broad sole and dancing bell-end toes. The teacher’s calf flexed again with the effort to keep her foot hoisted up.

Bathed in the shadow of the woman’s bare foot, Will and Mark trembled. Surely this was a joke? Just one last bout of psychological warfare? After all, they’d done everything she asked.

“Mrs. Parker…” Will uttered, feeling more broken by the instant. He raised a hand of surrender. “D-Don’t… please don’t… don’t do this. You… you can’t. You don’t have the right-”

“Such a classic underachiever. Even to the very end, still defiant and self-centered, despite the instructions of a hardworking educator doing her best to stomp a little sense into you,” Mrs. Parker said with a roll of her eyes and a casual flip of her dirty-blonde locks to the opposite shoulder. She steepled her regal fingers, shaking her head. “I see now perhaps I was too quick to judge you two as mildly reformed. This only confirms that my first judgment is always the correct one. Goodbye, boys, and thank you most sincerely for the lovely foot massage.”

Mrs. Parker’s foot descended swiftly and without mercy. Screaming, the boys went unheard by their unfeeling goddess. The instant her giant sole crashed down into the carpet, both Will and Mark’s helpless bodies were liquefied on impact into her skin. Crushed in a half-second flat. Sandwiched between the immovable floor and the unstoppable object of their teacher’s foot, they popped like cherries, with the mush to match.

Sighing to herself, Mrs. Parker plucked a tissue to wipe away their remains from her sole, gratified at least to be reminded once again that her detention methods truly did get the best results.

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THE END