The Teacher Breaks Down

The sub had bathed for so long in the swamps of the half-goddess' toes, he could barely remember what solid floor felt like. His lungs had to make do with the toxic, mind-numbing air wafting about her shoe prison. The miasma still made his eyes water. Throughout the torturous cycles of her trips around town, his own student's enormous digits had thrashed him back and forth in a sweaty storm. They scrunched him between rivers of their wrinkles. They mercilessly trampled his pathetic frame again and again.

And that whole time, Carmen wasn't every paying that much attention to him. She'd been idly drumming her toes; skipping classes; or even sleeping on her couch; the man suffered nonetheless.

For the first few days, he was sure that another faculty member would save him. After all, he was important to so many people. No matter her powers, one slacker schoolgirl couldn't stand to an entire school board. Worst case, his family would call the police, and they'd pluck him out.

Nobody came. They knew better than to face the tomboy terror; and that diving into her monstrous, putrid clothes was suicide even at normal size.

As days passed, the teacher attempted escaping himself. He clawed through the torn sock fibers, holding their sweat-soaked threads in his hands. Sometimes, he almost made it thorough one of the many holes that Carmen's juicy feet had torn. But seconds away from freedom, something always pulled him away. The behemoth soles would idly roll him back in place, underfoot. Oceans of feminine perspiration would wash his insect-like body away in a disgusting wave, far from any openings. Or - most often - the mixture of blazing heat, unclean air, and squeezing pressure from every side made his head light, his breathing shallow, and gently steal his consciousness away...

...Just so he could wake up to an earth-shattering stomp. He faced the same dirt-coated ceiling hanging above him; the same musty, murky floor under his buckling legs; and the same slightly-crusty sock engulfing the sky. To top it off, he'd hear one of the odorous giantess' cruel taunts:

"Gym day! Hold tight to your toe gunk, teach!"

"I think these sockos can go another day or two without washing. Whaddya say, bug?"

"Hey, you're not squirming. Did I break you already? Little runt."

At first, he grumbled and spat in reply. But slowly, he grew used to them. More than that, in fact. He'd lost hope of salvation. He no longer dreamed of escape. He only prayed for another one of Carmen's words, for another thin trace of human contact.

As his desperation increased, the teacher's rationality dwindled. He'd forgotten what he'd punished her for. He forgot what class he taught. He was starting to forget his own name. What good were they, anyway? All his years of achievement; his devotion to education and discipline; his bright future... It meant nothing when this delinquent demigoddess could effortlessly overpower him. The shame stung harder, and his humility swelled. This was where he belonged. The longer he dwelled on it; the more her disgusting feet wore his spirit down; the less the outside world meant... and the more animalistic, base urges felt natural.

Yes, as shameful as he was, the man was starting to grow aroused by his pathetic state. The constant, intimate rubbing made his mouth froth. Every time Carmen's unbelievable sole scraped the ground; every time she dug her powerful heel into his naked form, engulfing him in her essence; every teasing wiggle that shot through his body; every time her minuscule skin cells folded around his exposed member... It filled him with shooting pain, sickening guilt, and intoxicating pleasure. The heat, humidity, and pressure cursed him with awkward, tiny erections. And soon, as she ground them firmly into the floor, he erupted into involuntary ejaculations.

Every bit of his consciousness struggled to hold him back, screamed into the smelly void of depravity. In all his career as a teacher, he'd never had such wanton, lewd, unhealthy thoughts towards one of his young students.

But they were no longer student and substitute teacher. They weren't even two humans. He was far gone from that. No longer was he a living person, with wants and feelings. He was a fleck of Carmen's toejam. This smelly jerk was God. Her meaty sole was his world, his source of sustenance. The odd pebbles and dust specks were his companions. He was where he deserved. No, he was blessed to bathe in the holy waters of her sweat, gushing from the generous fountains of her pores. He could live a happy life rolling freely in the open fields of her socks. He was a little sad when she peeled back the safe, strongly-smelling cotton skies. But he felt overjoyed to see her smug, superior face peering on him, looming as a distant planet, her dirty blonde locks cascading like beautiful waterfalls in the room's dim lighting.

Over the course of a few weeks, Carmen's mere presence broke him from sub-teacher to sub-human. Thus, it came to be: when she rolled her dirty socks off, the ladybug-sized man was all too willing to apologize.

"I'm sorry! I'm... sorry, Goddess Carmen!" The shrunken man's words were garbled by the gunk sticking in his mouth. Speaking felt unnatural after these dehumanizing days. He flung himself balls-deep into her large, sexy toe's wrinkles. His hips jerked wildly into the glistening, rough skin. He was wrong to cross get. He was nothing. She was infinitely generous for allowing him to taste her soles. His tears flew out, along with the last little bits of dignity he had. He managed to barely speak: "Please, please let me stay..." Life outside the sock would be hollow and meaningless.

He collapsed in a puddle of Carmen's reeking juices; his own tears; and semen.

Carmen peered in, her eyes lazily looming from above, observing his grotesque display...