Coming To

Morris awoke with a jolt. There was a momentary sense of movement and then it was gone. Wherever he was, it was dark, neither cold nor hot and he got the impression he was lying on his back. The surface beneath him was soft, a smooth fabric, like velour. His whole body felt raw, abraded, like taking a wicked spill on a long board and getting road rash, but everywhere. Groaning, he tried to sit up but only fell back down when his head collided with something unseen in the gloom just above his head. Where in the world am I? Reaching his hands up, he touched the low ceiling over top of him, feeling the same texture above him as he was lying on. Putting his hands to his side, he made contact with either edge without even needing to stretch out. The sides of whatever he was contained in also felt rigid but soft. He was inside something long and narrow.  Did I die? Am I in a coffin? He tried to remember the encounter with the Silke, a whirlwind of lust and pussy slobber and blackness. He laughed to himself, mentally reading the bio that could in his school year book.

Morris was voted most likely to get baked. His favorite memory is the time when the hottest girls at school stalked him like a pride of lionesses tracking a Thompson’s gazelle on the Serengeti and then used him as a vaginal handy-wipe for their own amusement. After high school, Morris plans to help legalize marijuana and become a gynecologist.

Blunt and cunt, he snickered to himself, that’s what he could base a business on, call it B&C Enterprises, ‘You can smoke it or poke it’ would be his company slogan. Despite his fear and the rough handling he received from the girls, he had to admit on some perverse level he enjoyed himself. He supposed the prospect of dying, either being swallowed or suffocated or crushed may have heightened the experience, the rush, but still, he smiled in the darkness. He doubted any other student in the history of the world had ever lost their virginity in such a fashion. That little voice at the back of his mind reminded him not to get too comfortable, these girls were not all sugar and spice and everything nice, after all, they had already demonstrated a willingness to kill when they ate Len. A number of other questions chewed away at the back of his mind. He wondered who the mysterious ‘she’ was, the one the girls seemed to take direction from? The first thought that came to his mind was Miss Mackenzie. What was that 80’s movie about teenage vampires? Lost Boys? Except instead of vampires and boys, what if Miss Mackenzie led a group of shrinking student eating hot girls? He also had the nagging suspicion somehow she was the one with the lightning bolt hair patch. He didn’t know, but now that he was an experienced man of the world, he wanted to definitely to try and take a run at her and secretly hoped for an opportunity.

“Hello?” he called out, reaching up and tapping the ceiling of what it was confining him. No response or sound.

He wondered if Tom or Sly were ‘toyed’ with and whether or not they were still alive or were slowly digesting inside the girls as they played with him. The thought made him shudder slightly. What plans did they have in store for him, or did she have in store for him? What about his mother? How would they explain his absence, especially considering how bold Elisha had been?

There was another sense of movement and there was bright light as the container holding him was opened.

“Hello Morris,” he heard the dulcet voice of Miss Mackenzie say. “I see you are essentially none the worse for wear at the hands of the girls.”

“Miss Mackenzie,” he said, blinking and looking up at the lovely teacher. He grinned to himself, “I totally knew it,” he chirped, though still small while she positively loomed over him. Laying as he was, once his eyes adjusted, he also got the impression he was on a kitchen table in a home. Her home? He wasn’t sure. She looked amazing,

“Unfortunately for you young man, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and now we must address the issue,” she stated, leaning back in her and placing her right hand on the table top, strumming her fingers staccato fashion.

Despite the predicament, he found she looked positively gorgeous, her long hair free, a touch of color to her lips.

He didn’t know what to say, what argument he could make to try and persuade her he wasn’t a liability. What assurance could he possibly provide other than as a pothead with limited credibility she ought not to worry about him because who in their right mind would give anything he said credence?

Finished strumming her fingers on the table top, she held him in her gaze a moment before nodding. “Yes,” she said, acknowledging some inner unspoken thought in her mind.

“Yes,” he said nodding before pausing and shaking his head and frowning.

She smiled. “You agree?” she queried.

“I don’t know, I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment,” he explained, shrugging.

Seeming to accept his words at face value, she nodded.

What about my friends?” he asked.

“Well it seems Sylvester will be relatively easy commodity to manage, given Silke lives right in the same house as him. Tom on the other hand is a little more problematic, he seems reluctant to cooperate, meaning I may be left with little option other than to have him, shall we say, conveniently vanish,” she explained, lifting her chin and making an audible swallowing noise.

Mo shook his head. He didn’t like that. Nope.

“And then there’s you,” she said, fixing him with a stare, slowly stroking the sides of her throat with her other hand.

Now it was his turn to swallow.

Placing her hand back on the table, she smiled slightly, “You’re a good boy and I’m sure you don’t want to wind up a shapeless lump of mush in someone’s tummy,” she said.

“No,” he blurted, remembering his thoughts on Len’s fate.

She nodded. “So you want to cooperate then?” she inquired.

He nodded, blonde hair bouncing almost as much as if he was rocking out.

“Good,” she said, nodding her head approvingly. “In that case, we can proceed with trying to re-assimilate you,” she added.

“I can keep my trap shut,” he assured, head still bobbing.

“I suppose we shall see,” she said, looking up. “Elisha,” she called.

The dark haired girl appeared, “Miss Mackenzie,” she said, giving the lovely teacher a respectful nod.

“I am assigning Morris to you for the time being. He will need to be prepared,” she said.

She smiled down at him, “Of course,” she said, licking her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

Prepared for what he wondered? Couldn’t they just unshrink him? What did he just agree to and what did Miss Mackenzie mean by assimilation if not restoration?