Mr. Smith smirks before exhaling in your face. Instead if breath thick silvery fog emanates and you feel faint.
When you wake again you find yourself curled up on a flat, hard surface. A knobbly pattern is carved into the surface, and reaching out you find yourself at the edge of whatever you're lying upon.
Quickly rushing back from the edge you find yourself pressed up against a wall, the wall feels warm and isn't completely stable, almost organic, but feels like fabric.
Turning to look you find yourself with a palm pressed against Mr. Smith's leg, which has inexplicably grown to many times it's usual size. Turning to your side you find it's partner blocking off the other side of the platform.
With two muscular thighs and a drop of quite a distance blocking your way, you look up and find Mr. Smith gazing down at you a look that spells out trouble on his handsome face.
"Sir, what's going on?" You ask.
"The test." He explains simply, one large hand reaching down to pull his tracksuit bottoms down his legs, leaving his half-hard member on display, "You're going to run from one side of the chair to the other..." Looking around you notice you are stood on a chair and come to the correct conclusion that you have shrunk down to a minute size, "Every time you run past, I'll bang my cock down, like this." Mr. Smith picked up his cock and swung it onto the plastic of the chair, the thick muscle made a loud bang as it struck and hardeened further by the pressure, "Make it to the end and I let you live, get crushed by the cock and well..." The teacher shrugs, eyes twinkling sadistically.
"When will I know when I reach the end?"
"You won't. I'll tell you, if you're still alive. Now move." He picks up his cock and slams it down once again, as he lifts it up once more you charge past the muslce, smelling the sweaty aroma of genatalia that has been stuffed into sweaty clothing for hours on end with no relief.
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