This choice: You are a second late, so Miss Woodcrest decides to punish you. • Go Back...Chapter #6You are a second late, so Miss Woodcrest decide... by: YaBoyAif   You sprint as fast as you can towards your spot, but Miss Woodcrest was keeping track of time maybe too accurately. “You’re a second late.” Miss Woodcrest said sternly as she walked, not looking away from her clipboard.
“But Miss-“ You tried to offer an excuse, anything to dampen the impending punishment, but unfortunately Miss Woodcrest was in a particularly bad mood today. You cried out in pain as Miss Woodcrest’s massive sneaker knocked you over and simultaneously landed on your back, casually squashing you flat in the same step. Her other foot landed on your legs and you tried to scream, but due to your lungs being flat, all that came out was a dry, awkward noise. The rest of the class found the coach’s treatment of you funny and laughed at you as you laid in torment, causing tears to well up in your eyes.
“Tardiness will not be tolerated. That goes for all my classmates, even if you’re the size of a doll.” Miss Woodcrest said as she stood on you. The class laughed again at the coach’s statement. “Usually I make students run laps as punishment, but that would take your tiny legs way too long, so I’m gonna help you out.”
Miss Woodcrest stepped off of you, relieving the immense crushing pressure for a moment as she sat down next to you. The class watched excitedly as Miss Woodcrest untied the laces of her right sneaker, while you watched with dread as you struggled to reform. You saw Miss Woodcrest smiling cruelly as she peeled your body from the floor and moved you towards her socked foot. Smushing you against her hot sole, Miss Woodcrest stretched your arms and legs and tied them in knots around her foot, securing your place under her. She wasted no time in putting her sneaker back on, and paid special attention to tie the laces tight before standing up and stomping her foot a few times, garnering a few more laughs from the class.
You were incapable of doing anything while you were in your gym instructor’s sneaker, stuck flat against the cotton of her hot, sweaty sock as she stood on you. For some reason, all you could do was smell, which was torturous in your position. Used as a insole against your will for practically no reason, and your only option was to smell your tormentor’s foot as she stepped on you.
“Hmm...” Miss Woodcrest thought as she scrunched her toes. “She actually feels pretty good under my foot.” Disregarding her tiny student for now, Miss Woodcrest continued the class like normal, torturing you in her shoe for the next 80 minutes.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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