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Rated: 13+ · Interactive · Fantasy · #170819

A boy who is 2 inches tall needs to make friends at school.

This choice: On the floor.  •  Go Back...
Chapter #10

Distracted

    by: A former member
"Where would you like to sit?"

You glance around, and notice an empty desk in the
front of the room. She notices you pondering it.
"Put your desk on top of that one?" she asks.
"Ooh, honey, I'm afraid of that. Just look at the
incline on that desk top. What if your desk were
to slide off, with you in it?" I’m sorry, but I’d
feel safer if you choose between the top of my
desk and the floor in front of my desk."

You've become pretty tired of being the center of
attention, so you opt for the floor. Mrs. Andrews
sets down your desk in front of hers, and you sit
down. She hands out to everyone a survey. "Don't
be afraid of it," she tells the class. "I'm just
trying to ascertain how much you may already know
about America in the 19th century." She hands you
a copy of the survey reduced to your size. You
begin to take the survey, and are doing quite well
at it (hooray for home schooling!), when something
in front of you catches your attention. You look
up, and see directly before you, underneath Mrs
Andrews' desk, her feet, caught in the act of
freeing themselves from those high heeled shoes.
A moment later you are staring at her feet now
unshod, as they stretch back and forth, up and
down, in evident relief.

At your size you so often only see people from the
ankle down, that you tend to judge them by their
feet. And these, with their streamlined heels,
curvaceous insteps and long toes, are among the
most alluring pair you have ever experienced, a
perfect match for the face and personality of the
woman who owns them. Your eyes widen as they take
turns rubbing and soothing each other, and your
adolescent mind longs to slip in between them and
become the object of such attention. Yet in spite
of the continual distraction, you do now and them
manage to return to your survey, and even to
finish it (the questions were that easy for you),
and have probably done at least as well as any of
your peers.

Mrs. Andrews calls on the class to pass in their
surveys. After her feet return to her shoes and
your head returns to reality, she walks around her
desk and reaches down for your paper. “Hmm,” she
says as she looks at your miniscule scrawl, “I’m
going to end up with glasses by the time my year
with you is over.” As she says this, the bell
rings, and the class gets up to leave. To avoid
being trampled upon you only begin to walk out
after the others are gone. “Oh, Mark,” Mrs
Andrews calls out, sitting again at her desk “I’d
like to see you for a minute.” You step up to her
apprehensively. “I’ve thought about it, and your
desire to sit among the rest of the class is only
fair. We just have to set your desk on a secure
and level table of the right size and shape.
We’ll have it here for you next time.” Your face
must betray your immense disappointment, for she
registers surprise. “But honey, isn’t that what
you wanted? What’s the matter?” You try then
desperately to save the situation, to pretend that
nothing is the matter, that in fact her suggestion
is exactly what you would like. But she catches
on to you. “Oh - ho! ... I bet I was putting on a
little floor show for you. Is that it?” The heat
of your whole body rushes to your face. You can
only imagine how red you look. “Mm-hmm. Well,
that’s all the more reason why we must set you on
a raised platform. After all, we mustn’t subject
you to such distractions -- at least not during
class time.” As she says this she slips off one
of her shoes, and holds her foot out so close to
you, that you have to look way up to see her toes
wiggling above you. “Besides, this pretty little
Tootsie may be fetching, but don’t you think she’s
a little big for you? She’s three or four times
your size.” She slips her foot back into her
shoe, which exposes to her your wide eyed, open
mouthed expression. She smiles. “Oh, I’m sorry
for being such a tease. You can’t help it if
you’re entering into ... that age.”

She looks up at the clock. “Oh, dear,” she says.
“Do you have another class now?” You manage to
shake off your stupor enough to nod. “Well then,
we must get you to your next class. I’m free to
take you there if you would like. Or wo

You have the following choices:

1. You prefer that Mrs Andrews takes you.

*Pen*
2. You prefer that a student takes you.

*Pen* indicates the next chapter needs to be written.
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