“What on earth...” Miss Sinclair's husky, accented voice shook the entire group. Even crouching, she loomed above you all like a small mountain. Her usually stern expression was replaced by a mixture of disbelief and confusion. The bag fell from her hands with a resounding THUD.
Suddenly, she reached out a hand. It descended ominously like a pale UFO, capable of abducting several of you at once. You scrambled away from the incoming fingers, the massive digits faltering as Miss Sinclair noticed your tiny cowering.
“S-sorry… I didn't mean to frighten you.” The giant teacher chewed her lower lip sheepishly. You watched her lower both hands onto the floor, this time leaving some space between them and the shrunken troupe of students. Her green eyes looked down at you expectantly. Laura, one of your more brave classmates, was the first to climb into the plush field of her palms. The rest of you followed closely, everyone weary but optimistic. You'd been hoping to get a teacher's attention. Now you were literally putting your lives in her hands. They formed a protective cup, cradling you within walls of warm skin.
Miss Sinclair stood, keeping her palms as steady as possible. She held them close to her stomach as she gingerly carried you into the classroom, leaving you in the shadow of her ample chest. Somewhere in her late 30's, the titanic brunette was well-developed with mature curves. Her white blouse looked a little overtaxed by the weight of a generous bosom. It subtly heaved with every step, the cumbersome sway something you wouldn't have noticed at normal size.
The lotion-scented floor beneath you opened as she deposited everyone onto her desk. A gigantic mug dwarfed the whole group, dominating the flat surface littered with books and paperwork. Miss Sinclair sat in her chair, leaning forward until her face hovered a few inches (to her) above you.
"To be perfectly honest, I have no idea how this could've happened." She thundered, bathing you in humid coffee-breath. Your eyes were drawn to her plump lips, which were neatly coated in dark red. Pristine teeth and a monsterous tongue flashed behind them while she spoke. “Whatever the case may be, I’m assuming you all are in need of some assis-”
Miss Sinclair was cut off by the unceremonious ring of the school bell. Class was starting! Unwilling to expose you to a herd of unruly teenagers, she hid you as quickly as she could.
1. She swept you into the depths of her mug, wincing as you land in the lukewarm dregs of her coffee. She'll head to the Teacher's Lounge right after first period.
2. She dumps the group into the first container she can find in her bag. Unfortunately, it's the one filled with her lunch: a hearty chicken salad. At least you’ll have something to snack on during her next few classes...
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