Everything had happened in an instant.

One second Mr. Grayson had been droning on about their big research paper, and how they'd all had months to work on it but that he knew most of them would be trying to cram it all into spring break. It was his usual spiel for whenever a big project was due. That he understood why they had put it off but that he would be able to tell that they had procrastinated. They needed to learn, especially since most of them were going to college next year, that you can't procrastinate like this.

Of course, Mike wasn't listening.

What did he care? He wasn't going to major in something like English anyway. He might have to take one more of these dumb courses to fulfill some requirement down the line, but he'd be sure to take something easy without a lot of research papers or other bullshit. As far as Mike was concerned, after Spring Break, he'd be pretty much done with literature in general. He'd get a useful business degree, just like his dad.

Then everything seemed to fade to white, like a movie. The all enveloping whiteness flashed across his vision and just stayed there for a few minutes. Then there was a roaring noise, deep and otherworldly, like the kind they used in movie trailers. The rumbling seemed to shake his very bones before the whiteness finally faded.

Mike was laying flat on his back, and staring up at a ceiling high above him. It wasn't the drop ceiling that was in every room of Hayes High, but a dark brown mess supported by wide steel beams and dotted with big globs of what looked like fluorescent paint.

“What happened?” He muttered to himself, though a part of him was hoping someone else in the class would answer. When no one responded though, Mike rubbed his eyes and looked up at the vast ceiling again. This time it seemed extremely familiar, as if he should know what he was staring at.

Climbing to his feet, Mike dusted himself off, trying to figure out exactly where he was.

His jaw slacked open as he took in his surroundings. Mike stood on a vast plain of linoleum, covered in vast structures made of steel and plastic. Next to these strange alien structures were huge monoliths of canvas, looming like artificial mountains above him. He swallowed hard as he recognized logos and brand names on each of the canvas monoliths. Mike knew that the one across from him, covered in safety pins and patches, was a backpack that belonged to some punk rock chick that was always giving him dirty looks. His own pack was resting on the back leg of his desk, and came into his view as he spun around toward it.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, slowly but surely venturing out of the shadow of his desk.

Then there was another enormous noise: a collection of quick, sharp, staccato blasts undercut by a deep and forceful, “Wheee!”

Mike stopped in his tracks as he parsed the excited exclamation through it's God-like timbre. The whole room seemed to shake, and he heard blasts like thunder come crashing all around him. His head whipped around just in the nick of time to see two bus-sized feet barreling toward him. Mike dove out of the way of the worn and dirty running shoes, looking back to see the plain denim jeans that rose high above them, all the way to a simple gray blouse. The girl was so huge that he couldn't make out anything else about her as she moved past him. He was able to just make out a brown ponytail bouncing off the back of her head.

“Oh God, you've got to be kidding me,” Mike muttered as he carefully crawled back out to the row. He watched as the enormous god-like teen made her way excitedly around Mr. Grayson's desk at the front of the room, her squeals of excitement nearly bursting Mike's ear drums.

Stacey Milton was a know-it-all and a teacher's pet. She was supposed to be a junior but had skipped a grade years earlier, and still considered herself smarter than everyone around her. Some people said that she often claimed she was supposed to skip two grades but the school wouldn't let her. All of that intellect though didn't make up for the fact that she was sort of a stuck up bitch, and super-weird on top of that.

“Don't worry, Mr. Grayson, I'm not going to hurt you,” her voice filled the room, her cutesy upbeat lilt coming through despite the sheer power her voice now had. “I would never hurt my faaaaavorite teacher. You and me, Mr. G, we're going to get really close after today, just you wait.” Mike was far enough back to see the action beyond Mr. Grayson's desk. The poor teacher was being held in her small fist, squirming for his life while she just smiled down at him. “Do you like my top? I wore it especially for you today.” Slowly, Stacey carefully slid Mr. Grayson into the low cut of her gray blouse and between her cleavage. She pressed her small perky breasts together, probably smothering the poor man before she giggled, “I know they're kind of small but I have a feeling they look pretty big to you.”

Grayson must have been screaming his head off because Stacey paused and looked down at him, “Oh don't worry, Mr. G, I'll take care of the class. You don't have to teach these little idiots anymore.” Her finger went down and carefully rubbed the teacher's receding hair like he were a small pet. Of course, Mike figured, that's what he was... a pet teacher.

Stacey then picked a thin book off of Mr. Grayson's desk, and flipped it open to a page as she strutted back into the rows of desks. “Now...” her voice took on an almost threatening tone as she started walking, each of her steps forceful and demanding attention, “It's time to take attendance for our special lesson.” Standing at the first desk, she began, “Adams?” Mike watched as she bent down and squatted around, looking for her shrunken classmate. “There you are!” She exclaimed before grabbing the person up in her hand and moving on to the next desk.

She moved down each row with frightening precision, carefully rooting out each shrunken student and gathering them up in her hand or on Mr. Grayson's grade book. When she couldn't carry any more, Stacey dumped them on the teacher's desk. Once she made her way halfway through the class, she dropped a paperback book in front of them before saying with pure authority, “Open it up to page thirty-one, students.”

Mike shuddered as she began moving down his row. Stacey Milton had never been your normal girl, but a girl who could shrink an entire classroom just to make a point? He really never imagined her to be that sort of person. Not to mention the fact that if he weren't huddled down on the ground at that moment, he wouldn't have believed that people could shrink.

With an ear shattering boom, Stacey's worn gym shoes crashed down in front of him. “Michael Sorrentino?” She asked, her gaze flicking down from his chair to her feet. Mike stared up at her, her dark brown eyes obscured slightly by her thin-framed glasses. Her thin lips pulled into a smile as she bent down and with just the tips of a few fingers, pressed him against several of his classmates within her fist.

It was the most uncomfortable position Mike could imagine as he was pressed up against two other people he barely knew, Stacey's hand sweat rubbing off onto them. Her hand was oppressively warm, and that combined with their own body warmth meant that they were sweating heavily by the time they were dumped onto the desk with everyone else.

After she rounded up all the present students, Stacey settled down across from them, her own copy of the book high up in her hands. Softly, she began to read a passage from the page they were all on. Her voice still carried immense power, but she clearly wasn't trying to scare them anymore. While she read, everyone just shared glances with each other, unsure of exactly what they were supposed to be doing at that exact moment.

While their captress was distracted, a few people began moving to grab rubber bands and paper clips from around Mr. G's desk. Anything they could grab a hold of that might help them either fight back or escape. “Now, who can explain what Kesey is trying to...” Her eyes narrowed as she saw the little people roaming about the desk, grabbing up any office supplies they could.

Stacey's fist slammed into the desk with enough force to send a few people toppling over, “What do you think you're doing, class?” Mike suddenly looked away from her enormous gaze, feeling very ashamed that he would even allow his classmates to think about rebellion and escape. “I'm trying to teach you something and what? You're all off playing with this stuff?” One of her fingers came down, yanking a push pin from a student's hand and flinging it across the room with a flick of her index finger. “First off, what do you even think you were going to do with that? And second off, you don't do such things during class time. I expect you all to treat me with the respect I deserve.” Her whole body loomed over the group of her former classmates, and cast them into a deep shadow.

“You're fucking crazy!” Screeched the punk girl that sat next to Mike. She flipped Stacey off and began running off across the desk as she shouted, “Fuck this, and fuck you you giant bitch.”

Whump!

Stacey's copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest slammed into the girl so hard that it shook the desk. A wet crunch was heard as Stacey pressed the book down a little harder, carefully grinding it against the desk itself. “Too bad, Lexi,” Stacey announced, “Rebellion and death does not look good on a permanent record.” The once meek little brunette lifted the book up and inspected it, making a face as she gazed into the pulpy mess that once was one of her classmates. “Ew, I got punk whore on my book,” she said to herself, though certainly for the benefit of her “class,” before tossing the book into the garbage.

“I'll be right back, kids, let me just go grab another one.” Her enormous frame rose from her seat and walked to the back of the class, grabbing another book from a small stack. While she walked back, she asked, “Now where was I...?”

By the time that Stacey was seated again, everyone was holding down the student copy of the book, their eyes glued to the passage she had just read to them.

Mike had no idea how much time passed as they all sat there, trying their best to dissect the novel up to Stacey's excruciating standards. Every so often, Mike would catch glimpses of Stacey's smug and self-satisfied smirk. She was loving every minute of lording not only her intellect over the rest of her classmate's but her new found size. Mike didn't care though, he did just what he did in Mr. Grayson's class: participate just enough to not get in trouble.

All they needed to do was wait for the authorities or whatever, and then they'd be saved, and Stacey Milton would go to jail forever.

In fact, when the door opened up, the entire class breathed a sigh of relief turning their heads to face what they assumed would be some kind of friendly savior. Instead, what walked through the door was the last thing that Mike wanted to see: Chelsea Dewinter.

Standing several inches above Stacey made Chelsea even more intimidating than the enormous girl that sat before all of them. Worse was the completely casual way she walked in, always walking around school like she was some sort of hot shit when in reality she was just the biggest loser running. Now though, Mike was more than a little afraid. If cute little Stacey had taken the chance to crush another person like a bug, Chelsea wouldn't even think twice.

It was as that thought crossed his mind that he saw what was bouncing against her thigh. At first, it had looked like a set of keys or something, but as she got closer, Mike could make out a definite shape. It was Ms. Cavelli, the hot calculus teacher. She was always a cold hard bitch, but damn if Mike didn't think that she was fucking hot for a teacher. Now she was strapped to Chelsea's belt like a fucking ornament.

Stacey simply closed her book, folded her hands on the desk, and looked up as Chelsea approached. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah,” the raven-haired bitch-queen replied as she looked over the assembled class, “I'm looking for Jenni.” Her pale gray eyes tore through the crowd of shrunken students, pausing over each one to inspect them.

“Oh, Jenni's not here right now,” Stacey answered quickly. She lifted up Mr. Grayson's grade book and handed it to Chelsea before pointing out a certain line, “See, she's in school today but she was excused from this class.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, because she's a dumb little whore,” Stacey whined, “Now if you don't have anything else, I was in the middle of teaching.”

Chelsea blinked, her eyes darting from the collection of students to Stacey, and the wriggling form of Mr. Grayson between her breasts. “Wait, hold on, what about everyone else? Maybe they know something.”

Stacey gave her a look before sighing, “Fine.”

Chelsea clamped both hands on the side of the desk, and leaned over the assembled shrunken teenagers. Mike trembled beneath her gaze, hoping she wouldn't notice him. If she didn't notice him, he'd be fine. “Which one of you knows where Jenni would be if she's not in class?” Chelsea's head came down closer and closer. Mike looked up to see her lips carefully parting, revealing teeth stained a light red, as if the enormous girl had eaten someone.

“See, they don't know anything,” Stacey interjected, preparing to once more shoo Chelsea Dewinter away.

“Wait,” Chelsea held up a hand, and Mike instantly felt her eyes land on him. “Is that Mike Sorrentino?” Her hand came down and instantly scooped Mike up. He tried to fight but her grip was terrifyingly strong.

“Put him down,” Stacey whined.

“Fuck off, you little know it all,” Chelsea replied as she turned around and leaned against Mr. Grayson's desk, she raised Mike up to her face. Mike was terrified of the drop down, knowing it could easily kill him if Chelsea decided to ease up her grip in any way. “Now, Mike, you and I both know that your best bud is nailing Jenni.”

Mike gulped, and then nodded.

“Do they have sex during school?”

Mike shook his head violently.

“Speak up, little man, I can't hear you.”

Her hand suddenly clamped around Mike, shoving all the air out of his system before letting him breath just as easily.

“No!”

“Are you sure? They don't go out to his car for a quickie, or do it in the storage lockers in the gym?”

“I'm sure, I'm sure!”

“Then where the fuck is Jenni?” She growled. She literally growled at him.

“I don't know! I don't know, I swear.”

“Then you better tell me where your buddy Frank is this period or I'm going to fucking crush you.” Her fingers pressed in again just to remind Mike of how much strength she had in just one hand.

“Gym! Oh God, he's in gym, just don't hurt me, please...” Mike sobbed as the terror got the best of him. His pants began to feel damp and warm as he wailed.

Suddenly, he was free falling through the air as Chelsea's voice boomed around him, “Ew, fucking gross. You fucking pissed on my hand you piece of shit.”

Mike landed with a crash on the ground, and the whole world went black for a second. It flashed back in as he moaned, unable to move upon the ground. He watched as Chelsea's neon pink sole rushed over him, encrusted with the blood and guts of some other unfortunate classmate. Mike could feel the whole world around him vibrate as she walked out of the classroom.

He tried his best to move but nothing seemed to respond, neither his legs or arms really seemed to be into the whole moving business.

Then Stacey's enormous face loomed high above him, cocking to one side as she considered what to do with his broken body. “Pity,” a twinge of sadness entered her voice, “You were kind of cute.” The sole of her dirty and worn running shoe hovered over him. Mike could see pebbles the size of his head ingrained in the tread and found himself whimpering as the whole thing rushed towards him with immense speed.

The last thing he saw was the logo of a shoe company.