TEN DAYS OF HELL
By Seabee


PROLOGUE

I suppose I am still alive, but sometimes I have serious doubts. How long have these toes been my entire universe? Hours? Days? Weeks? Please allow me to explain.

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

Ms. Michelle Boles was by far the prettiest teacher in the school, as well as the toughest. School legend held that she had never given out an A in her career. Although she was in her late 30's, she appeared much younger. She had curly, sandy brown hair, and some of the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Although not particularly tall, her slender frame combined with her ever-present high heels made her appear much taller. I had had a small crush on Ms. Boles ever since I entered high school, even though I knew it was silly. With her simple beauty and sexy voice, she never failed to make me 'pay attention,' even during the most boring of English classes.

One day, a brand new rumor blazed its way around the schoolyard: it seemed that Ms. Boles was having an affair with Coach Cameron, head of the boy's basketball team. At first I refused to believe it, but the rumor persisted. It seemed that sightings of the two in various romantic positions were becoming more common than 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 I had ever met) swore up and down that he had spotted the pair kissing backstage in the auditorium. Full of mixed emotions (jealousy?), I knew I had to find out for 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 made sense that if the two wanted to engage in some type of romantic dalliance on the school grounds, they would most likely venture there. I decided to hide there after school on Monday with my camera and tape recorder, and hope to catch a few shots of the amorous duet. Armed with photos like that, I may even be able to make the first A ever in her class!

I set up shop underneath her desk. It had a solid back, so you could not see under it from the front. I doubted she would sit there, because she never even used her desk during school-she always stood in the front of the room or sat on a small stool beside the chalkboard. I hadn't been in place very long when suddenly my heart started beating fast-someone was coming! No, wait . . . two people were coming! Sure enough, before I knew it, a door slammed and Ms. Boles and Coach Cameron were hitting it hard! I had the tape recorder rolling, and was picking up a virtual cavalcade of pants, moans, and grunts. They were making so much noise, that I didn't believe there was any way in the world they would hear my camera shutter. I had to have at least one picture! I eased out from under the desk, peeked around the corner, took aim, and pressed the button.

Click.

Have you ever had one of those moments when everyone in a room seemed to get quiet at once, and only your voice was heard (invariably in the midst of saying something of an intensely embarrassing nature)? I had a similar experience right at that moment. Ms. Boles and Coach Cameron apparently both inhaled at the same time-the very moment my camera clicked. Through the viewfinder I saw two heads whirl 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 first instinct was to run, but I knew it would do no good-they both knew full well who I was. Then the thought occurred: 'Wait a minute! I have the upper hand here! I am the one with the photo that could cost both members of this amorous duo their jobs!' 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 was reaching out to wring my neck, I heard a second voice command 'STOP!' It sounded similar to Ms. Boles, yet somehow darker . . . colder . . . more forceful. I saw the anger in Coach Cameron's eyes change instantly to fear. A lump began to form in the pit of my stomach. She spoke again: 'Leave us.' The coach did not hesitate in moving towards the door. As he reached for the door, he glanced back one final time. This time I detected yet another emotion lurking behind his eyes. Was that . . . pity?

Ms. Boles sat quietly for a long time after Coach Cameron closed the door. She simply stared at me. Finally she stood up, walked over to the door, and locked it. This was such a small, petite woman, so why was I terrified? She walked back over and stared me right in the eyes. I struggled to meet her gaze. At long last, she began to speak:

'What did you want? Pictures? An audiotape? Why? To blackmail us? Or maybe to jerk off to later? It is really a shame-I really did like you. You used to be a good student. You used to have a lot of potential.'

Her voice seemed wistful and dry. Some unknown terror had seized my body, and I had 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't plan 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 hear that tape. You do realize that . . . you will never leave this room.' Almost as an afterthought she added, 'At least, by yourself.'

I simply can't describe the next three seconds. I took half a step towards the door, when suddenly all five of my senses seemed to instantly overload. All the cells in my body felt as though they exploded in unison. I heard a horrific sound as lights whirled in front of my eyes. I tried in vain to scream, but then, just as suddenly: it was over.

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

My nightmare was about to begin.

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

Her voice ripped through me like a shotgun blast: 'You are going to die, tiny one. 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 disappear forever from this earth. You will have ten days to learn that the female body is to be worshipped and adored, not spied upon. In ten day, you will become very intimate with every inch of my body, and you will learn to worship it as your new 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 down on the desk. I tried to get up, but I found my body to be completely unresponsive. 'As you can see,' she continued, 'I slightly altered my spell. You cannot move your body if it is not in contact with mine. Thus, you would not get very far.' After speaking these words, she merely smiled, picked me up again, and dropped me in a pocket. 'Get some rest tonight. Your lessons start tomorrow.'

I was plunged into darkness, but at least I could move again while inside her pocket. I thought about her face, her body, her voice, and everything I had ever found attractive about Ms. Michelle Boles. Suddenly it no longer seemed so alluring! I felt if I could just survive the next ten days, maybe she would have a change of heart. What else could I do? I fell into a deep despair and awaited morning.

DAY ONE (TUESDAY)

'Good morning, little ant. Are you ready for your first lesson? You will learn to love my hair today. I'd hang on, if I were you.' These were the only words that were spoken to me all day. I suddenly found myself tightly bound by an auburn rope. The ground beneath me was approximately level, so I knew I must be near the top of her scalp. I estimated my size at a quarter inch. The next thing I knew, my dense prison was thrust into continuous motion- Ms. Boles had begun to 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 elastic properties of my miniscule body). An oily smell hung in the air, and I began to feel 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 the shampoo! I felt her fingers press, prod, and knead me as she caressed the shampoo into her scalp.

Next my skin was singed as she dried and curled her hair, all in preparation for spending the day in school. I almost lost consciousness as her hairspray fumigated my new world, but I managed to hold on. When she arrived at the high school, I screamed in agony and terror, but there was no way my tiny, tiny voice could 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, or sweat would collect within my reach, allowing me the only nourishment I would find during my 24-hour ordeal.

I listened as Ms. Boles taught her class in the normal way, completely ignoring the fact that she had a small man languishing in her light brown locks. She even called my name twice when she was taking roll, and appeared to be irritated by my absence! I longed to be back at my desk, my life again normal, but that was not 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 quickly scratch the itch I must be creating. Although I could not see them, I could hear my former classmates milling about, completely oblivious to the fact that I was so close at hand.

I remained in position all day, from school, to the gym (where I suffered in agony 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 me still 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. She began to speak, once again marking the only time my existence would be acknowledged 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, and deftly perched upon a single eyelash. I tightly wrapped my arms and legs around the hair, horrified of what would happen should I fall. I had no need to worry-the next thing I saw was what appeared to be a huge black monster with a thousand arms approaching me: Ms. Boles was applying her mascara.

The mascara roughly brushed through her eyelashes, drenching me in a thick coat of 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, I felt my stomach rise into my throat-my entire body was pumped up and down continuously at impossible speeds.

The eyes that I once felt were so beautiful now filled me with unspeakable horror. 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. I stayed in place all day, and for the first time saw all of my mountainous classmates 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 still hopelessly adhered to here eyelash, but at least I was no longer being bounced up 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 huge waterfall that had just engulfed me was merely an errant splash of water from the sink. Since I was no longer touching Ms. Boles, my body was paralyzed, and I had no choice but to wait patiently for my next assignment, despite the knowledge 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 for you! I realized last night that I have been very inconsiderate, and that I haven't even taken the time find out how you're doing. Well, today I am going to spend 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 was actually a wall of flesh coated with a foul wax. A dreadful stench permeated the air, and although I could move, my feet and hands would quickly sink into the yellowish 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 at least able to look around (not that there was much of a view). My new environment was composed entirely of shiny skin, wax, and hair. I also learned that Ms. Boles was not being sincere when she offered to listen to me: each noise I made was greeted with a vigorous shake of her head, only lodging me deeper 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 not to be.

DAY FOUR (FRIDAY)

'TGIF!' These were the words that greeted me as I inched back into consciousness. 'It's the last day of school this week, and you have been such a good student so far! I hope you are learning well that my body is to be loved and worshipped!

'Today I am going to allow you to do a great service for your teacher-you get to keep my nose clean! I have had a touch of a cold lately, and I hate walking around sniffling all day. So you just get in there and keep me clear for the day, 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 could simply 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 horror as her nostril enveloped my body. Soon her finger was pushing on the bottom of my feet, and I was driven high into her nose. Her hungry snot quickly seized my body, and I tried in vain to free myself. It was really true: I was a human booger!

Air rushed back and forth across my face with each breath that she took, and my viscous prison soon hardened, rendering my limbs useless once again. If I looked down, I could see out of the nasal tunnel to her breasts miles below. I wonder if she really was going to blow her nose, and then probably flush me away, but it never happened-I simply spent 24 hours of hell encased in snot in my teacher'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 to find me. Finally, I was scraped from the wall of Ms. Boles' nose, and rolled between 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 mucous from 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 a diet 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. This woman was simply incapable of compassion, and I knew her offer must be too good to be true. The funny thing is, I had not really been that hungry-I guess my mind had been too preoccupied with the fact that I was a tiny slave to even think much about food. That all ended with the suggestion of eating, and suddenly my stomach was wracked with hunger. I watched in eager apprehension as my 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 front teeth.

So I would be 'learning to love' her mouth today. Great. Although I may have had private fantasies of kissing this woman in the past, this was definitely not what I had in mind. Her saliva swirled around my body, and I drank it with gusto. She swallowed enough to allay any fears of drowning, but I still had to struggle 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 snagged small bits of egg, bacon, and bread as the incredibly powerful teeth ground them to pieces above me. The orange juice slightly burned, but was quickly washed away by her ever-present spit.

I was thankful that she was not teaching school today, because each word she spoke reverberated through my head like a cacophony of jackhammers. My arms were wedged too tightly to cover my ears, and an insatiable ringing in my ears followed each sound she uttered. The noise was almost enjoyable, however, compared to the horrible odor that would sometimes invade my oral home. I would occasionally hear a deep gurgle, followed by a healthy belch, and my nostrils would 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 my spirit was dangerously close to being broken. Once I endured a night of snoring from 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 was certainly 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 continued to clean between her remaining teeth, pulling out horrid bits of food and film. I was unceremoniously dumped on the bathroom counter along with the discarded floss, and my now useless body was forced to simply lie there as Ms. Boles continued to primp in the mirror. I was again struck by her beauty, and nearly forgot that this woman was a monster to be feared. Perhaps my lessons were working, after all.

She glanced down my way after a few minutes and announced: 'It's almost time for church, and it is time to find a new place for you to worship! You did an excellent 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 I can find another use for you. I hate sweating, so I am going to count on you to keep me cool today.'

With that, she grasped me, enlarged me a bit, and then pushed me roughly onto a smooth white creamy surface. I had no idea what was going on until I saw an underarm rapidly engulfing my field of vision: she had stuck me in her deodorant! Sure enough, I was rubbed mercilessly onto a stubby field of moist skin, and held in place by a generous application of stick deodorant. Soon I felt 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. I don't know how I was functioning as a deodorant (though my nose told me not well), but I was certainly not being an effective antiperspirant! Her sweat coated me, stinging my eyes and mouth. I heard her laughing and talking and gesturing, as her audience remained unaware that each movement was adding to my torture.

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 a too-small T-shirt), I felt like I had literally been basted and cooked by the sweat and heat. The odor caused me to faint numerous times, so at least the day seemed to go by more quickly than usual. I didn't even want to imagine what else she 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 was once again immobile, but far above I could see the nude upper body of my tormentor. She was again getting ready for school, and had not yet acknowledged my presence. It was the first time I had seen her without a bra, and her breasts bobbled alluringly in front of her. They appeared perfectly round and smooth, and I once again felt myself becoming aroused at the sight of this beautiful woman.

Finally she glared down and flashed her gleefully sadistic smile. 'Today's the day 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 an express 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 a spread-eagle position just below her monstrous nipple. The world went dark as she latched the bra behind her back, and I was pulled extremely tight against her warm skin.

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

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

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

DAY EIGHT (TUESDAY)

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

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

She dropped me on the bed while she showered, the paralysis quickly squelching any hopes of escape. She returned to the room completely naked, and stood beside the bed as she finished toweling herself dry. She finally spoke: 'I have been excited about this day. I know how you little boys always wanted to get into my pants, so here is your big opportunity! You get to be teacher's little sex toy today! Aren't you excited?! I hope you can hold your breath, or else your lessons will end today!'

With that, she picked me up and brought me close to her pussy lips. Even they seemed to be smiling! The smell had greatly subsided since her shower, at least on the outside. Once my head made contact with her slick flesh, however, I was once again overpowered by her sexual odor. Her stomach tightened as she slid me into the slick tunnel. Everything went black as I felt my body being massaged by her vaginal walls. She stopped pushing, and I knew I must be somewhere deep inside her.

If I pushed forward with my arms and legs, I could open up her lips just enough to 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 my body within its throes. In addition, it seemed to grow wetter and wetter by the minute.

I heard the rustling noises as she put on her underwear and dress, and it grew even hotter. As she walked, I was constantly ground back and forth, only leading to more sexual arousal on the part of my teacher. By the time she arrived at school, I was literally choking on her cum, and my nose was burning with her scent. I knew death would come quickly if I lost consciousness, so I struggled to 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 this ordeal, 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 sex toy for my giant teacher. All I could do was try to survive day by day. Of course, that was much easier said than done.

I managed to make it through the day inside Ms. Boles' pussy, and even found my surroundings somewhat comfortable as she laid down to sleep. Although my body was 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 I felt warm and safe. Maybe the worst was over.

Wrong.

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 stomach convulsing as I heard her words:

'You little asshole. You are nothing but a little tiny piece of shit. I have been given so much shit lately at school about Coach Cameron, that I think it is my turn to give you a little!'

Her laugh chilled me to the bone. She grasped me between her fingers and proceeded to rub my head up and down her butt cheeks. I shuddered at the small bumps and hairs, but she was obviously enjoying the feel of my tiny face against her 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. The inner ridges seemed to take a layer of skin off my face, and I screamed for her to stop!

After what seemed like hours, she finally stopped and held me once again up to her face. With a completely blank expression, she softly whispered three simple words: 'Enjoy your day.'

She bent over, and in a blur I was whisked back to her ass, and I found my head being forced into her pungent asshole. I yelled out in pain and fear, but only succeeded in filling my mouth with what felt like skin and sweat. I was jammed in up to my waist, but my legs were left to dangle on the outside. She stood up straight, and every trace of air in my lungs was forced out by the crushing pressure.

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

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

I did have several respites from my position in her caustic asshole, but they were not welcome rests. I would hear a horrible grumbling noise, and then I would suddenly be assaulted by a foul blast of air that would burn my nose and skin and shoot me forcefully into Ms. Boles' cotton underwear. Before I would even have the chance to recover, however, she would simply stick her finger back in 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 and the will to live. I tried to move around inside her ass, perhaps to recover some feeling in my extremities, but it was no use. I was truly nothing more than a tiny piece of shit to my gargantuan teacher.

DAY TEN (THURSDAY)

THE ENDING

This was it-the final day. I awoke with a mixture of total fear and relief. I had somehow ended up deep, deep within Ms. Boles' ass during the night, and she was forced to take her morning shit to remove me from my smelly hiding place. I floated helplessly in the toilet, and hoped that she would just flush me away and end this madness. But luck had not been my strong suit for the past ten days. She closed the lid and left me in odorous darkness while she finished getting ready, before finally fishing me out with a net from her aquarium. She laid 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 to truly appreciate my body, there is nothing else I can teach you. Therefore, I'm afraid it is the end of the line for you. I haven't exactly decided on a fitting end for a Peeping Tom like you yet, but I'm sure I will get some inspiration by the end of the day. At any rate, today you get to learn your true place in relation 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 held me over a navy blue high heel she had just popped off her foot. I felt the heat rising from the leather long before I was actually inserted, but by the time she dropped me, I truly knew what Hell must feel like. The bottom of the shoe burned my skin, and I slid down towards the shadow at the toe of the shoe as she tilted it within her hand. I was starting to feel a little bit better when something huge suddenly filled my field of vision: Michelle Boles' toes.

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

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

She contented herself during the day to play with me like a tiny pebble, and bounce her foot as if she was keeping time with her favorite song. I bounced from 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 somehow managed to survive as a speck of foot-dirt.

After a couple of hours at the school, I was beginning to believe I may survive the day in my teacher's shoe after all, but that's when I heard a voice I recognized immediately: it was Melanie. Melanie was the girl I had had my eye on for years. She had straight blond hair and a dynamite body, but I never had the courage 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 monstrous big toe, I could just make out the words being spoken: Melanie was informing her teacher that she would not be in school tomorrow, because her family was leaving early to go to the mountains for the weekend. She laughed and said she hoped that 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 every day. Melanie had an incredibly ragged-out pair of black, hard-leather flats that she had worn to school (without socks) every single day for the past three years. I had even given her a hard time about them once, complaining that I could 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 some reason, because she pushed her toe hard into the sole of her shoe, literally imbedding my body deep within her toe-flesh. I was unable to free myself, and I felt as if I had been glued to her toe-pad. She asked Melanie if she was seriously going to wear those shoes the entire weekend, and once she got an affirmative answer, she asked her to stop by her desk after class.

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

Once class ended, I was still helplessly stuck to the bottom of my teacher's smelly big toe while she began talking to Melanie. She told her that she was considering purchasing a pair of shoes like she was wearing, and wanted to know if 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 off her pump and inserted her tiny-man-accessorized foot into Melanie's flat leather shoe.

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 and covered in shit. Are you getting the idea? The same shoes that nearly choked me from across the room at normal size now became my universe as Ms. Boles dragged her toe across the bottom, ripping me loose and causing me to fall onto the dirt-blackened leather sole. As she withdrew her foot, I wanted to run and scream, but the no-contact-with-her-body paralysis set in, and all I could do was internally tremble.

The light was replaced with a sweat-soaked foot sole, which rapidly descended upon 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 and smooshy. It easily grew accustomed to my presence, and merely mashed me into the horrible insole like one more piece of inconsequential dirt. My paralysis did not leave, and all I could do was dry-heave as the pain, stench, and pressure overpowered me.

EPILOGUE

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