The class of 14-A woke up to a shocking scene. Fabrics extended in every direction- north, south, east, west. The entire floor, soft and brownish. As the grogginess lifted from their heads, it was replaced with a slight, damp musk; something familiar, yet one nobody could quite place their finger on. And a little further, a whitish shape, extending high into the air. Blankness in the distance.

To get a better sense of their position, they climbed up the surface. It sunk gently into their fingers, softly- some students on either side of it. Some fell, but landed on the ground without injury.

Those who made it to the top of the huge, white platform could only stare in shock. To this side, some titanic bottles of Guinness lying on the ground. Opposite, a stray bra, stretching out like a deflated pair of hills. Stairs. Photographs.

And, right next to them, their teacher.

They were on her mattress.

The perfectly level-headed, amiable woman they knew was a veritable landscape of lethargic, slovenly horror. Her blonde hair wrapped out in an ocean, stringing this way and that in unfamiliar shapes. Head lying to the side, her faint snores became terrifying groans, as wind circulated through her monstrous respiratory system. A pool of drool coated the area by her mouth, flowing into the marsh-like indent her body had made into the fabrics- greyish and damp. Miles and miles in the distance, her toes wiggled.

But the worst part was the smell. The stench of ruined hopes and dreams, leaking out of every fold and pore of her skin. Her breath had the oddest mix of alcohols mixed with cheap noodles and coffee. And, blowing from the south, the smell of dry fish from her crotch. It may have been annoying at normal size; to the students' tiny respiratory systems, it was deadly.

A little stir.

They shook this way and that, some tumbling off the mattress. Their teacher's stretch had become an earthquake, tearing their world apart. Gripping at each other, they kept their whimpers  as silent as possible. She finally fell in place, with one last rumble. Her mouth opened gently, with a yawn.

"...stupid fucker can't recognize a princess when he - hic! - sticks his cock right up her sparklin' eh-hole..."

She was always strict about swearing in her class; this mumble from her blew the students away in more ways than one. Her voice echoed through the way-too-small apartment room, striking the diminutive students to the centers of their souls.

Slowly, they tried to creep away. Tiptoeing on the white surface, they avoided sudden movements that might arouse the titanic teacher.

Her arms slowly stretched out, with a horrible creak; her distinctive odor became stronger with her revealed armpits. Her dark tank-top shifted behind her, wrinkles like a black river. The acres and acres of flesh fell with a horrible slam in front of her class, blocking her escape route.

They glanced backwards. Her dull blue eyes, barely even slants, stared at them.

"STOP. STOP WALKING SO LOUD."

A collective shiver. Some let out tiny screams, as she peered over the collective of diminutive pupils. With a hiccup, and a rub of her forehead, she continued, bits of saliva and bad breath falling over them.

"Isn't enough that you harass me 5 days a week, you gotta take the pitter-patter or little feet into my adobe? Fucking Acrobat X. Annual shrink-and-invade-teacher's house day? I know your tricks- I did the same things when I was your age..."

Her head tilted a little with every movement, casting terrifying shadows on either wall. He voice kept trailing off, as if she was about to collapse on top of her class.

Finally, a voice rang out from below. A lanky boy stepped forward, glasses upon his nose, lifting a hand up out of instinct.

"S-sorry, miss-"

She wrapped her fingers around him. Her flesh pressed his entire form in tightly, shaking him clumsily up to her eyes. Her nose jolted back and forth in front of him, as a smirk wrapped across her face. He prayed for mercy as she spoke again:

"Think I don't see you masturbating under the desk, ass-kisser?"

The teacher's tone was so singsong, you could swear there was a tilde at the end.

The ground trembled as she rolled over to her stomach. Pulling down on her pants, the teacher revealed her backside. It hung in the air, a pair of bright, sweaty mounds. She dangled the student over it, leaned over, chuckling to herself. He let out wail after wail, running the full scale from denial, anger, begging, and self-pity, to silent acceptance as he moved closer and closer. She tapped on her bulbous posterior, yawning.

"Well - welcome to paradise!... No, wait, that's corny. This is where you belong!... No, that's- geez, I can't think of good lines when I'm drunk."

She held her second finger over her lip, as the students attempted to run away. Briskly, her body tilted sideways, arms and chest slamming on top of a large portion of them.

"How about, 'you like that little man?' Eh, good 'nuff for me."

She hummed a cacophonous tune unfamiliar to the students' ears as her grip loosened. Slowly, the student dropped through the air, falling closer and closer to the anus...

With expert precision, her waistband snapped back, trapping him inside. He was jammed tightly between both cheeks, gigantic walls of flesh and muscle on either side of him. She moved like a dog wagging her tail, poking at him to make sure he was squeezed in as tightly as possible. Practically drowning in her musky body, he sobbed quietly, trying his best to bear his teacher's overpowering backside.

"And as for the rest of you brats. I'd make some joke 'bout detention or failures, but my brain's off for the night. So screw it."

The people under her generous chest were pushed into the mattress tighter, compressed between the heavy masses. She leaned over, and grabbed a quarter-finished bottle of beer.

When the students were finally freed from her chest, they found her hand stretching in the air, grabbing for their teensy forms. They dashed away desperately, sobbing; yet her fingers cut them off at every turn. Each one she grabbed was tossed into the bottle's opening. Eventually, they were all trapped inside, swimming in the liquids.

Tilting it a little, the teacher reveled in watching them toss and turn in it. They swam to the ends, some making silent begs for mercy.

Moving the bottle upwards, and lying back, she positioned it in the perfect position for her pupils to see her mouth, molars glistening. Her tongue was a soft, pink carpet leading towards a throat like a cave pushing into infinity. Idly, she titled the bottle. Some students held on the opening, clogging it; but the alcohol quickly pushed them back, out from their prison.

And onto their teacher's body.

She sighed, chuckling at the beer drifting over her stomach. It went down her top, and into her pants, bringing students with them. They fell into absolutely perfect positions on all of her sensitive parts- her gigantic nipples, cavernous vagina...

"Ahahaha... That feels so amazing..."

The students trapped in her pants felt a horrible rumbling around them. Slowly, light came in, as her hand reached down to stroke her body. Following, those stuck on her nipples and cleavage felt the same, as the teacher lost herself in forbidden pleasure. They were jammed further and further inside the pink walls, stuck between the wrinkles, holding on to whatever they could for dear life.

"Well? Do things."

They instantly responded by squirming around, trying to find a way to escape her massive body before she snuffed them all out. But all routes led back to her. She was their new landscape- their everything.

The teacher's body lay wet on her mattress, a hopeless mass of self-indulgence and spite, laughing out loud as she felt the rushed movements of her students against her most private of parts...

It was a long night, so the teacher was tired in the morning. With a yawn, she scratched the back of her head, idly looking at herself at the mirror.

Her routine went as normal- breakfast, clothes, news. Something about everyone shrinking- it was hard to pay attention.

As she walked across the streets, an amazing silence hung over the air. By some happy coincidence, she bumped into a man- well, less of a coincidence, considering she was looking specifically for him.

"H-hey! You have to help-"

She didn't really need him anymore. Didn't know how to treat a girl. He'd be better as a stain on her shoe, anyways.

For just a while, booze and a good book would be all she needed.

That and the people under her shirt and in her pants. She'd have to get more of those sometimes.