Byron wasn't sure how to feel. He supposed he was expected to feel nervous starting at Maximilian Waycroft Massachusetts Boarding School today. And sure, he supposed he was a bit nervous. But the tiny blond receptionist with whom he had checked in, Byron assumed by her age that she was a student, made him seem comatose by comparison. The girl, short even to Byron who stood an unimpressive 5'6", sat behind a reception counter so tense that she was practically shaking while Byron sat calmly in the outer office waiting to meet with the headmistress.

His parents, undoubtedly, would want him to feel remorseful, given that his admission to Waycroft was intended as a punishment. But while Byron would indeed miss spending his senior year with his friends at his old public school, he thought it rather worth the transfer just to get out from under his parents oppressive regime. He generally considered himself a good kid, he did well in school despite not trying very hard, he had no interest in hard drugs, he was generally very well-liked by both adults and his classmates, and he had thus far avoided any teen pregnancy scares. Yet Byron's parents considered their only child a lost soul due to his total indifference to their exceedingly strict and often arbitrary rules.

So it wasn't much of a surprise when his parents had their pearls firmly clutched after finding pot in his room. They were waiting to confront him when he came home from school that day, his mother almost in tears and his father apoplectic with rage. They lectured him for nearly 2 hours, his father insisting now that Byron was 18 his pot possession was a felony, which Byron was almost certain was not true. Ultimately, due in no small part to Byron's total lack of contrition, his father decreed that he would spend his senior year away at a boarding school to "pound some discipline into his thick skull".

Byron looked around, taking in the lavish office, a huge contrast to his former underfunded public school. He briefly caught the eye of the receptionist, who convulsively snapped back to her computer when he caught her looking. He smiled. Waycroft's stuffiness conflicted with Byron's own easygoing lifestyle (his school uniform was as unkept and bedraggled as he could manage) but it could hardly be worse than his parents house. And, Byron thought with a thrill, he would meet an entirely new crop of girls. Like any teenage boy, Byron had a bit of a fixation on girls. And, being confident and rather handsome in a disheveled, homeless chic sort of way, the fixation was very often mutual. Now he would get a chance to make a run at a whole new group of girls, none of which had known him since kindergarten.

He smiled again. Byron had decided how he should feel. Excited.

The door to the headmistress's office flew open. Out strode a woman who made Byron's breath catch in his throat. He didn't follow records of any sort but he didn't need to- this was surely the biggest person in the world. Her light red hair nearly brushed the larger than normal ceilings and Byron could tell that when he stood up the top of his head would only come up to her waist. Yet for all of her size, she still maintained an air of femininity. Some of it was most certainly due to her impressive curves, hugged tightly by a modest but form fitting purple dress. On a normal sized woman, breasts of the headmistress's proportion would have been astounding yet her colossally wide hips and thick thighs eclipsed even her buxomness. It was difficult to tell due to her size and generous chest, but Byron thought she might be one of the most bottom heavy women he had ever seen.

"Byron Daniels?" she said loudly, looking at him. Her voice was not deep, but it boomed, rattling his bones.

"Yeah," he responded nervously.

"Please come in to my office."

Byron stood meekly and walked towards her door. He caught a glimpse of the receptionist and his stomach sunk. If she had been tense and nervous before, now she was petrified. She was frozen, her head was down and her eyes resolutely stuck on her keyboard. This all gave Byron a very bad feeling of foreboding.

The headmistress turned to go into her office as Byron approached and he nearly gasped a second time. The headmistress's butt was directly in his eye-line and, if it was possible, it was even bigger than he would have guessed given the size of her wide hips and thick thighs. It extended so far out from her back that he certainly could have rested a cup on it, probably a full sized dinner plate. Her dress was stretched over her bottom to near transparency. Bryon briefly wondered where she got her clothes, for the dress she was wearing was not long for this world. He could see the outline of panties large enough to contain her massive butt but was so intimidated he tried, and failed, to put it out of his mind. He followed her into her office, eyes downcast but the wobble of her huge butt every time her feet thumped against the oak floors was not entirely out of his line of sight.

Byron took a seat across from her as she moved around her desk, which might have seemed exceptionally large if you did not know who occupied the office, and thought it was safe to look up. The headmistress pulled out her chair, which looked much larger than the one Byron had taken and settled her weight into it, earning an alarming groan from the chair's supports. Despite the chair's increased width, Bryon noticed a generous portion of the headmistress's ass extended over either side of the seat.

"I am Bella Emery, the headmistress," she said. "You may call me Headmistress or Headmistress Emery."

Bryon nodded, avoiding make eye contact as much as he could.

"You will be expected," she continued, annoyance in her voice, "to respond 'Yes, Headmistress' or 'No, Headmistress' when I address you."

Byron was halfway through another nod when he caught himself. "Yes, Headmistress."

She smiled. It was nice to see her soften and what was more, Byron noticed that she was very pretty. Having been distracted by her size he hadn't really taken in her angular and symmetrical features, her perfect teeth, or her sharp jawline. Byron guessed her age to be at least mid thirties but her fair skin was still smooth and glowing. Now that he thought about it, most people of her size, if any could really be included in that category, were disproportionate but she merely looked like a blown up version of a very attractive, remarkably voluptuous woman.

"And," she said, her smile fading, "you will be expected to keep your shirt tucked in and your tie tied."

Bryon hastened to obey, shoving his shirt roughly in his pants and starting to tie his tie. He was not very good at it and he lost track of what the headmistress was saying as he tried to get it tied. It had not occurred to him to disobey her, which gave him pause. He despised arbitrary rules and he had never before hesitated to defy authority when he felt it was unjust. Was he really that intimidated by this woman because of her size? Byron was no coward, of that he was sure. He would return to form now that he had gotten over his shock.

Headmistress Emery reached down to open the bottom drawer of her desk. Her enormous chest came to rest on the surface of her desk, compressing and spilling outward as her weight settled. There was a pen sitting where her left breast had landed, there was no sign of it now, insignificant compared to her massive breast. The headmistress sat back up, having pulled out a file which she flicked open. She began speaking again but Bryon still wasn't listening, still fixated on her massive body. As his eyes slid down from her chest, he noticed she sported a slight pot belly, a bit of pudge spilled into her lap. It was a slight bulge, might not even be noticeable when she stood, but it was the sort of thing that drew the eye once you noticed it.

Byron realized he had been staring at her stomach, which would probably considered rather rude. He looked up, tuning back in at a good moment, because she was asking him a question.

"You're here because your parents found pot in your room?" she asked, not looking up from the file.

"Yes."

She looked up at him sharply.

"Headmistress," Byron added feebly.

"I assume I don't have to say it," she responded "but we absolutely do not tolerate drugs or alcohol on this campus."

"No, headmistress."

"And you're here on a work study program?"

"Yes, headmistress." Indeed, Byron's father was too cheap to fork over the whole tuition, so Byron was expected to work at the school so that they received a discount.

"All of our normal staff positions are filled," said the headmistress, looking him in the eye. Byron, remembering his intent not to be intimidated held the eye contact. "But I'm sure we'll find something you can do."

She smiled. Her smile as well as the way she spoke made the hair stand up on the back of Byron's neck. Still, he refused to break eye contact.

"You've done a terrible job with that," Emery said, indicating Byron's tie.

She stood so quickly that Byron flinched involuntarily. She was so big that she could have reached over the large desk and grabbed him without having to strain. She moved around the desk and Byron caught a view of her profile. The size of her curves left him stunned once again. Her chest extended so far out in front of her that if Byron was standing immediately in front of her, he doubted she would be able to see him at all. At the same time, he imagined that two, possibly even three of him would be hidden by the immense bulk of her rear.

The headmistress sat on her desk, the mass of her bottom spreading out to the sides and behind her, free from the confines of a chair, as is bore her weight. The desk was sturdier than the chair but Byron still thought he could hear the wood creaking. Her bare knees were next to him, each one bigger than his palm, so close he could smell her perfume. She bent down, almost double, and undid his tie.

"You'll have to learn how to do this yourself," the headmistress said as she lined up the tie on his neck. "I don't want to catch you with an unkempt uniform again."

He could feel her breath on his face. He was looking down, telling himself this wasn't because he was intimidated but because it was awkward with their faces so close together. He glanced upwards. Her nose was level with most of his face, leaving her full, smiling lips more or less even with his. He noticed she did not wear lipstick.

She knotted the tie and leaned back, gazing over her prodigious chest to admire her work. She was still smiling.

"There we are," she said. "Chin up, Byron. This isn't a prison. There are rules that we expect you to follow but if you can manage that I'm sure you'll have fun here."

The headmistress reached out and placed her hand on his, which were folded in his lap. Her hand was so large that it covered both of his easily and her fingers drooped down to his thigh. The weight of her hand was incredible.

The gesture might have seemed friendly, even maternal, but Bryon had an inkling that it was intended to intimidate him with the size and weight of her hand.

"Go have Lindsey, my receptionist and your new classmate, take you to your dorm so you can get settled," said the headmistress. "Classes start tomorrow and you'll want to be rested."

Byron went to move his hands to the arms of his chair so that he could hoist himself from his seat, but headmistress Emery did not remove her hand. Not expecting resistance, Byron had put a bit of force behind his movement but the headmistress did not seem to notice, pinning him in place effortlessly. She locked eyes with him.

"We'll be seeing more of each other." she said cryptically, smiling that smile again that gave Byron gooseflesh.

Maybe he was right the first time, he should be nervous.