Just before I fully awoke from a very troubled nap, I remembered how I came to be in the bizarre predicament you are about to read:
My 1st period instructor, Mr. Mathews, sent me to the vice principal’s office early in the day due to what he called dress-code violations. It wasn’t my first time for this, and the next step could be expulsion for me. Mom and Dad would KILL me if that happened.
But I know I’m hot, and that men can’t help but drool over me when I strut by, and I was pretty sure that I could sweet talk my way out of this little kerfuffle with just the right amount of cleavage and thigh. Especially since it was Vice Principal Hutchins I was seeing, who I’ve caught more than once eyeing me with those beady eyes of his.
So, a snooty receptionist told me to sit down on the big brown chair outside the vice principal’s office, and wait until he was ready to see me. As soon as I did, I felt a sharp pinprick and shot back up off the seat to my feet. An inspection of the worn fabric seating revealed a sharp tack! I stood and complained to the bitch of a receptionist, who totally ignored me while she spoke to someone on the phone.
While I stood there, glaring down at her across the desk, my hands on my hips, I began to feel a strange kind of woozy, warm feeling creep over me. My limbs took on a wobbly quality, and I became unsure of my balance. Still being ignored by the receptionist, I decided I’d better sit down in the chair again until the feeling passed.
And that’s all I remembered as I giggled my way awake thanks to fingers tickling the toes on my right foot. As I came to, I heard a man’s voice cooing down at me, “Aww, isn’t she a little dream! Naptime’s over now, Stacy. Time to wake up baby!”. My body reacted oddly to the fingers lightly touching my feet. I could only wobble my head around, and flail my limbs around in no particular direction. Like I’d lost much of my motor control!
With my eyes now fully open, I realized there was some sort of mesh netting surrounding me on all sides. Leering down at me over either side of what I deduced to be a sort of playpen were Vice Principal Hutchins and Mr. Mathews! Still feeling the tickling sensation, I looked down to realize Mr. Mathews was doing the tickling, and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, “Oh, the fun we are going to have straightening you out, Stacy.”
I screamed as I began to realize more fully the impossible situation I was in. I was thinking, “Oh my God! This can’t really be happening, only it came out something closer to: Wuwaaaah! M’wah! M’wah! Eee! Hee-Hee! Weeheehahahaha!”.
“And you swear to me she and the others in this special program can comprehend what we’re saying, and will learn the course material in time for finals, Mr. Mathews?”, inquired the potentially skeptical Vice Principal Hutchins.
“You have my word on it, Mr. Hutchins. I promise to have this unruly brat turned round and ready to graduate with flying colors.”, assured Mr. Mathews.
“I must commend you on your dedication to the job, Mathews, and the sacrifice of your evenings tending to the education of your special test subjects.”
By now, I had jostled free of the tickling fingers of my teacher, and wobbled on elbows and knees as best I could across the soft fabric of the playpen I found myself trapped in, away from his hands. My head felt heavy and I felt helpless as I almost fell over to both sides in my brief trek across the tiny expanse.
“It just seems a tad extreme, even with the miraculous teaching results”, opined Vice Principal Hutchins, as he retired from the room, leaving me in the dubious care of Mr. Mathews.
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