Chelsea couldn't help but smile down at the miniscule form of her teacher, rocked to the grimy floor of the classroom by her merely putting her foot down hard enough. She practically drank in the terror on her shrunken teacher's face as she squatted down above her, hand already in motion to snatch the tiny woman up. Her fingers curled around her, amazed at how light she was, and how comfortably she fit inside Chelsea's entire hand. “Why do you look so scared, Ms. Cavelli? It's not like I have any reason to take advantage of you in this state, do I?”

She couldn't help herself from laughing as she dumped the woman onto her own desk, before yanking out the chair she always kept neatly tucked away and plopping down into it. The tiny teacher scrambled to get to her feet, and once she had come to a standing position, she wiped away the dust and dirt from her precious little clothes. Chelsea gave a bark of laughter in response as she raised her sneaker clad feet up onto the desk, slamming them down hard enough to shake the metal frame before crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair.

Ms. Cavelli backed away from the shoes, her eyes fixed upon the gory underside of Chelsea's right sneaker. With a smirk, the teen couldn't help but casually flex her toes within the shoe, causing it to move in response. “What's wrong Ms. Cavelli? Is there something on the bottom of my shoes?” She teased, pretending to lean forward and look at them. “Oh don't worry, that's just the guts of some bug I accidentally stepped on.” That made the tiny woman shudder, and back away even more.

Finally, the small woman started speaking. Her little tweets and chirps barely reaching Chelsea's ears. Raising a hand, Chelsea brushed her short black hair back from her ear, cupping the hand against it and pretending like she was trying to get a handle on the tiny woman's frighteningly large world. “You should speak up, Ms. Cavelli. After all, how can I answer your questions if you don't speak clearly and confidently?” She giggled once again, trying to remember how many times the young woman had spat that line at her for muttering complaints under her breath.

Her ribbing was certainly getting to the tiny woman, she realized as she watched Ms. Cavelli stamp her tiny heeled foot against the desk before trying to compose herself. The tiny woman marched forward, finger held high, before she actually managed to make her voice heard, “Ms. Dewinter, that is enough! I can understand that this situation must be frightening for you and difficult to deal with but that does not give you any right to do what you did to Ms. Horvath. When this is all sorted, I will be certain to report you to the proper authorities, and you will be lucky...”

While her teacher was speaking, Chelsea took her feet off of the desk, and pulled the chair in closer. Placing her hands down carefully, Chelsea slowly leaned over the tiny woman, bringing her large face closer and closer as shrunken teacher ranted. By the time Ms. Cavelli was talking about turning her into the cops, Chelsea's lip ring was within arm's reach of the tiny woman. “Sure you will, Ms. Cavelli,” her breath washed over the tiny woman, warm and still reeking of the homebrew she had gulped down in first period.

“Ms. Dewinter, have you been drinking!?”

“Yeah. What are you going to do about?”

“I will...”

“What?” She cut off the tiny woman, leaning down even closer to her causing the shrunken teacher to back away in fright. “You're going to what Ms. Cavelli? Write me up? Give me detention? Be more of a bitch to me for no reason? You're not doing shit unless I tell you to. Got that?” Chelsea slammed her fist against the desk, causing it to quake and ring loudly. When Ms. Cavelli fell back on her ass, Chelsea's smile grew even wider.

Chelsea watched as the once proud teacher tried to find out exactly how she had come to find herself in her current position. She tried to stand but couldn't seem to find the strength, her eyes looking up at the looming giantess before turning away from her. For a brief moment, the teacher stared out at the classroom. Seemingly empty but in actuality just filled with Chelsea's former classmates and presumably future victims. How many more, Ms. Cavelli wondered, would find themselves ground beneath her feet or suffering the same humiliation that she was now experiencing?

After a long moment, the shrunken teacher spoke, “Yes, I understand, Chelsea.”

She laughed. She couldn't help herself. Ms. Cavelli was truly underneath her thumb, and better than that, after just a few minutes was ready to consign herself to this new life. Chelsea smiled, nothing could ever be as sweet as this moment she thought. Then she really looked at the small woman. Sure, her hair was looser, and she was terrified but she still was sitting there trying to maintain some sense of dignity. Even after 'accepting,' Chelsea's rule she seemed to sit there as if she had won, and that Chelsea couldn't allow.

“I don't think you'll be getting much use out of your heels anymore,” she announced to the small woman. Chelsea gripped one of Ms. Cavelli's small feet and yanked the tiny shoe off of her. Holding the shiny pump up to her eye, Chelsea amused herself with its small size for a moment before crumbling it between her thumb and forefinger.

“My Michael Kors!” The tiny woman screeched from her place on the desk. Instantly the small woman started flailing, trying to protect her other foot and the expensive shoe that was attached to it.

Chelsea merely tutted in disapproval at her small teacher. Using two of her fingers, she pinned the woman down at the shoulders, easily keeping her arms down from the pressure alone. With her free hand, Chelsea grabbed a hold of the flailing leg and plucked the tiny shoe from it. Once more she raised the pathetically small thing up to her eye to inspect it. “How does a teacher afford shoes like this anyway?” Without another thought, Chelsea crushed them to dust between her fingers, sprinkling the remains onto her teacher.

Ms. Cavelli was sniffling when she replied, “They were a gift.”

“Oh my God, are you crying?” Was all Chelsea could say in response. Leaning down over the tiny woman, she watched as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her pinned arms fighting against Chelsea's massive fingers in an attempt to compose herself. “Wow, you are. That's pathetic!” Chelsea laughed, “Crying over a pair of fucking shoes, that's so fucking sad.”

“Shu... shut up... you, you.... you brat,” Ms. Cavelli called back as she began to sob uncontrollably, “T-t-th-they were a gift.”

“Aw, I wouldn't be calling me names in your position. After all, you're the one being pinned down by my fucking fingers.” Chelsea applied slightly more pressure to the small woman, listening carefully for the grunts of pain that followed. “Who would give you a gift anyway, Ms. Cavelli? Do you have a boyfriend?” Chelsea leaned down over the crying woman, stretching out the word boyfriend till it sounded like a little insult.

“Ye...yes...” She squeaked in response, trying to turn away from the colossal teen and her beer-laced breath.

“That's a shame, you're going to make a lot of boys very sad with that news, Ms. Cavelli,” Her fingers plucked at the overly pleated slacks that the teacher wore, tugging them off of her slender frame. “Did you know that you have a little fan club? A bunch of boys that sit around imagining you doing all sorts of naughty things to them? They just fap to thoughts of you, all day long. Boys like that would be so sad to know you have a boyfriend.”

The shrunken teacher kicked and screamed as Chelsea tore off her pants, but it was a resistance that Chelsea could barely feel. She saw it, but her brain couldn't process the idea of Ms. Cavelli revolting anymore. It was already very clear that Chelsea had all the power in this relationship, but for some reason, Ms. Cavelli hadn't accepted that yet. “Besides, what kind of guy wants his girlfriend to dress in slacks and fucking granny panties?” Chelsea's fingers gripped the plain beige panties and yanked them down Ms. Cavelli's flailing legs.

“Must not be very serious,” she teased while her pinky finger probed Ms. Cavelli's abundant bush. “Jesus, what do you star in retro-porn or something?” Somewhere deep within herself Chelsea felt astounding as her pinky finger continued to poke and prod Ms. Cavelli's nether regions. There was no aspect of her life that was beyond Chelsea's scrutiny and she wanted her teacher to remember that.

Chelsea tore open drawers in her teacher's desk until she got her hands on a collection of rubber bands. With quick deft motions, Chelsea had tied Ms. Cavelli's arms together, while still having plenty of slack to dangle her from. Chelsea lifted the tiny woman upward by the rubber band, watching as her arms stretched toward the sky, the rest of her body hanging limp below.

With a smirk she lowered her back to the ground, and set the teacher's coffee mug down on the excess rubber band to prevent her from escaping. “What do you think a boy would do if he found you like this, Ms. Cavelli?” Chelsea's fingers wrapped around a pen, carefully twirling it about in her fingers as she stared down at the little woman. “I have an idea,” she mused, lowering the non-writing end of the pen against the woman's overgrown bush. “They'd probably do something like this,” ever so carefully, she rubbed the pen into the bush, probing her teacher's tiny sex, “Trying their best to get you off. Just to prove that they could.”

The small form of Ms. Cavelli was still crying, but her sobs were starting to become broken up by cries of sexual pleasure. Every so often, the young woman would moan or twitch. A completely involuntary response to Chelsea's random probes. “Who doesn't want to see stern Ms. Cavelli actually crack a fucking smile? A chink in her icy armor?” The tiny teacher's shouts were becoming louder and more powerful as she twitched, her legs rubbing together furiously. “That's all any of us have ever wanted out of you, a fucking smile.”

Chelsea couldn't stop herself, her wrist carefully controlling the in-and-out movement of the pen that had seemed to start all on its own. The once tall, proud, Ms. Cavelli was screaming out in ecstasy before finally reaching an orgasm. In one great shudder, the once fearsome teacher unleashed a miniature torrent of sexual juices and came to relax upon the cool surface of her metallic desk.

Only as Ms. Cavelli lay there panting in the afterglow did she fully comprehend what had happened. Looming above her though, was the smiling face of Chelsea Dewinter to remind her. “And now what am I going to do with you?” The enormous teen asked, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.