Byron lounged comfortably in the bleachers, watching the girls volleyball team practice. He was on his second day of classes and had just finished changing back into his uniform after PE. It was 20 minutes until the cafeteria would serve lunch and, having spotted a group of girls jumping up and down, Byron decided to cool his heels in the bleachers for a few minutes.

Byron was 5'6”, although he hoped to eek out a few more inches before college, so every one of the volleyball players was likely taller than him. The tallest, a raven-haired senior with thick thighs and butt nearly bursting out of her athletic shorts, was probably about a foot taller than him. This might have seemed intimidating but all of these girls seemed positively tiny compared to Waycroft's headmistress.

Byron had managed to avoid the massive form of headmistress Bella Emery since their first meeting but had no doubt that he would run into her plenty during the school year. He was taking senior seminar which she taught personally and her receptionist Lindsey seemed to indicate that since the normal staff positions were full, his work-study would likely consist of doing odd jobs directly for the headmistress.

His first interaction with her making him uneasy, he had asked his fellow students about the headmistress. There were an enormous number of urban legends about her, which Byron supposed was only natural given her noticeable uniqueness. She was in an industrial accident. She had taken experimental drugs from the army. She was a former MMA fighter. She had broken dozens of chairs at Waycroft by sitting on them (this one may not have been an urban legend). She once accidentally stepped on a student's chest and sent him to the hospital. Byron's roommate Damien, to whom Byron had taken an immediate liking, insisted that Emery had once fucked a teacher to death.

“Mr. Tiller,” Damien had said, “ he was here two years ago. Followed Emery around like a puppy, then in the middle of the semester just up and disappeared.”

“And he couldn't have quit or gotten fired?” Byron asked, skeptical.

“I mean he could have,” Damien responded, deadpan, “if he hadn't been fucked to death.”

Overall, students seemed to agree the the headmistress could be intense and domineering, but it wasn't too hard to avoid her ire. Byron wasn't entirely reassured, but was prepared to take their word for it for the time being. At the very least he was willing to chance allowing his uniform to return to a state of advanced dishevelment, in no small part due to the fact that he had yet to learn how to properly tie a tie and was too embarrassed to ask Damien to help. He had also almost unconsciously joined the other students in calling the headmistress Bella behind her back, reportedly because she hated the disrespect of being called by her first name.

“Yeah!”

Some of the volleyball team cheered as the tall raven-haired player spiked the ball hard into the ground. Byron, who watched her large ass jiggle as she landed back on the ground, also felt like cheering. The players were called to huddle up on their coach, a middle aged lesbian indistinguishable from every other female coach Byron had ever seen.

He stood up and made his way down the bleachers slowly, so that when he turned to head towards the cafeteria, the volleyball team was heading past him toward the locker room. He spotted the raven-haired girl, who was indeed at least a foot taller than him, and gave her a cocksure smile. For a moment she looked stunned, but recovered quickly and returned his smile with interest as she strode past him. Byron waited a few steps before turning to catch an up close glimpse of the girl's big butt. As he did he saw her already looking back around at him. She was still smiling and when she caught his eye she smirked as if she knew exactly what he was up to. Caught, he smiled sheepishly back at her and turned back around.

“Oof!”

Byron had taken 4 steps into the hallway before his belt caught him around the middle and stopped him in his tracks. Confused, he turned around to see a massive midsection, eye level with a lower stomach and stupendously wide hips. Oh. Headmistress Emery was standing behind him, a finger in his belt and a stern look on her face. He swallowed. The hallway was empty save for the headmistress and himself. Byron found himself in want of witnesses.

Emery yanked on his belt, sending him flying towards her. His face sunk into the plushness of her stomach, the sweater she was wearing soft against his cheek. His face still half buried in her stomach, he tried to look up but only saw the underside of her ample bust hanging almost a foot above his head. His mind flashed back to the day he had met the headmistress, when he thought her chest could hide him from view. So he was right. For a wild moment he considered if he could hide here in Emery's blindspot. That ridiculous thought was immediately killed as her huge hands groped blindly for him. He instinctively dodged one but the other caught him on the head, pushing him forward, back into the headmistress's pliant stomach. Under the weight of her hand, Byron sand even deeper into her soft pooch. He panicked briefly as his air supply was cut off, but a moment later Emery had slid her hand down to his shoulder and pulled him out where she could see him.

“I believe I told you that I didn't want to catch you with an unkempt uniform,” she said, her jaw clenched.

He had to crane his neck to see her face this close. Even through her anger, or maybe even because of it, Byron was struck by how pretty she was, her eyes blazing and her jaw set.

“I'm sorry headmistress.”

“No you're not,” she snarled. She pulled Byron's pants out from his waist and shoved his shirt down them with her other hand. Her entire huge hand down his pants, Byron felt violated but didn't think he was in any position to argue. She did the same with the back.

“But you will be if I catch you like this again,” she finished, pulling her hand back out of his pants.

He could have sworn she grabbed his butt on the way out, but he supposed even as slender as he was, there wasn't much room for her to maneuver her large hands in his pants. The headmistress kneeled down to fix his tie, but even on her knees he was far taller than he, so she settled the massive swell of her ass on her heels to lower herself further.

“I am not your mother, I will not dress you,” she said as she tied his tie.

He bit back his retort, that she was, in fact, dressing him right now, and allowed her to finish.

“There will be consequences next time,” she said menacingly as she stood, towering over him.

“Yes, headmistress,” he said quietly.

She strode past him, her steps thumping, toward the cafeteria. Wanting to give her some time to get some distance between them, Byron merely watched her go. Her tremendous, round ass shook with each step, each cheek jockeying for position, like two bean bags in a washing machine. When she had gotten far enough away, Byron walked slowly after her to ensure he didn't run into her again.

The cafeteria at Waycroft was as posh as the rest of the campus but complete and total chaos. For some incomprehensible reason, all 400 students at Waycroft were expected to eat at the same time. The cafeteria was big enough to hold all of them but it was always a complete fiasco.

Byron had picked up some fancy pork dish he didn't recognize and was trying to find a seat in the disarray, when he spotted Bill Torson. Byron had been warned about the guy but definitely hadn't needed it. He could spot a douchebag from a hundred yards and this guy might as well have carried a sign. At the moment Bill seemed to have cornered Charles Goldberg, who lived on Byron's hall. Charles was a bit of a nerd but perfectly nice and Byron liked him well enough.

Byron couldn't hear what they were talking about over the din but Bill was looming over Charles, who looked very uncomfortable so it was clear something sinister was going on. Byron wanted to intervene, he hated bullying. He was on the point of walking over to them when he hesitated. He didn't want to get into a fight on his second day of school. Hell, he didn't want to get into a fight ever- he was much more the 'start a band' kind of rebel than the fighting kind.

While Byron was still trying to make up his mind, Bill pushed Charles so hard he fell flat on his back. Byron didn't think, he just tossed down his lunch at the nearest table and started towards them. Bill reached down to grab Charles by the front of his shirt. The blood was pounding in Byron's ears. Time had slowed down. Byron was ten feet away. Bill was reeling back for a punch.

Byron felt it before he heard it. Tremors. Then thumps. Massive, heavy footsteps coming from behind him. He turned around in time to see Bella Emery charging through the cafeteria. He managed to take half a step backwards to get out of her way but it wasn't enough. As her right leg swung past him her hips swayed in his direction. He got hip checked from the top of his head to below his chest by the side of the headmistress's colossal wobbling ass cheek. The soft flesh smashed against Byron's face and chest so hard that he was knocked clean off his feet. Dazed, he rolled over just in time to see Emery dive tackle Bill off of Charles.

Byron got unsteadily to his feet and was quickly shunted towards the scene of the fight. Students were surging towards the commotion and Byron, having already been close, was being pushed in front. Looking down at the state of things, Byron was impressed in spite of himself. The headmistress had used her hands to tackle Bill off of Charles so he didn't get crushed under her body when she landed. She was pinning Bill with her hands and had leaned to the side so she didn't land on Charles, although it was a close run thing, Charles was quaking in the shadow of her enormous body. By the looks of things, Byron wasn't the only person she bowled over, but she had managed to do an awful lot before Bill had thrown a single punch.

Bill was struggling in the headmistress's grip. Her hands wrapped almost entirely around his waist. She held him fast, but it was clear that she had no leverage to use her weight or most of her strength on him. Teachers were trying to plow through the milling chaos to help. The gawking student mob was all around the scene now, increasing the mayhem and confusion. So it wasn't a total surprise when the headmistress's gigantic body started lowering on to Charles who was still lying prone.

“No!” Byron yelled, but his voice was lost in the racket.

Emery's humongous right tit was inches from Charles' terrified face. Byron bent down to grab Charles' arm and hoist him out but it was too late. As he grabbed Charles' arm, the headmistress's enormous boob consumed his head and the rest of his body disappeared under hers. Byron still had Charles' arm and pulled but stopped immediately. The headmistress was too heavy. He was more likely to rip Charles' arm off of his body.

“Headmistress!” Byron yelled as he dropped Charles' arm and started pushing on Emery's torso. The headmistress, distracted by the chaos and the violently struggling Bill, noticed nothing. Byron was making no headway so he switched tactics. He got into a deadlift stance and tried pulling the headmistress's side up. His hands sunk deep into her soft belly but he wasn't able to move her an inch off of Charles, who was thrashing violently as he was smothered under Emery's right breast.

The headmistress's prodigious ass was so large that even lying down it extended several feet into the air. Thinking this might provide him more leverage, Byron changed tactics again. He kneeled next to the headmistress's ass and drove his shoulder into the ample posterior. He sunk into the pliable flesh but soon, much sooner than he might have guessed, he met a wall of firm muscle. He pushed from his legs with all his might, trying to tilt headmistress Emery's body up just enough for Charles to grab a breath or escape. Byron made no progress. He collapsed in exhaustion against the headmistresses's massive ass, which wobbled in retaliation from his assault, shaking his body. Charles' struggles had become weaker. Byron stood shakily. He summoned all his remaining strength and yelled.

“Bella!”

The headmistress's head snapped around, enraged. Byron pointed desperately to where Charles lay buried under the headmistress's body. She seemed to follow him because she rolled onto her side. Charles gulped greedily at the air. Byron helped pull him out of the shadow of Emery's body.

“Sorry Charles,” said the headmistress, “are you all right?”

Charles, whose new reintroduction to oxygen had cause a coughing fit, raised a hand in response as he scampered away, hacking. The headmistress caught Byron's eye and gave him an unreadable expression. Byron thought he might have seen gratitude, but also something else that he couldn't identify. Emery, still clutching a struggling Bill, checked beneath her this time before rolling her body back flat against the floor. There was a whomp of displaced air as her huge body hit the floor again and the headmistress's generous rear shook back and forth with the impact.

Byron fought his way back through the gawking students, wondering if the stories about the headmistress he had heard were urban legends after all.