By Car

I tried to keep an awkward half-standing position, clawing my hands into the fabric, trying to minimize contact with the lower part of her right breast. I didn't want to drive any more of her opinions of me. My own lusting after Mrs Scott's body had been put on the back-burner for now, as I tried to balance myself, even though I still felt a slight hardness below my waist. Mrs Scott's game went far beyond my comfort zone for me to admit that I was turned on by it.

The task of balancing myself in the tight room became increasingly more difficult as Mrs Scott started moving; the hard click-clacks of her heels shaking my whole world and making me bump into her repeatedly. Mrs Scott had no qualms about carrying a student most likely less than half her age next to her luscious breast.

My arms burned and I was slowly losing feeling in my hands, when she thankfully stopped for a moment, giving me a breather.

“Now don’t be silly, Davey. Big boy. Remember?” There was an amused tone in her voice, as I suddenly felt the outer walls of my prison closing in on me, and I was firmly pressed against her right breast, losing my grip on the fabric. The woman was shameless.

“There you go.” Mrs Scott cooed happily as she held me pressed into the scratchy fabric and the mounds of flesh beyond for some awfully long seconds. I kept completely still, like a pup being picked up by its neck. Among the smell of lavender and detergent, rose the natural smell of her body - warm and heady, as I gasped for air. As it became increasingly more difficult to breath, the pressure finally eased .

But it wasn’t over yet.

Just before I was ready to steady myself, my whole world began to shake in a jerking motion. I was forcefully thrown around the little space like a leaf in the wind. A streak of panic surged through me as I lost all orientation in the darkness, trying to desperately grip at anything in order to steady myself, but only hurting myself in the process. Mrs Scott seemed to notice my little attempts to stand up to her, as she commented them with haughty laughter.

Finally, dizzy and sweating heavily, I just slumped, giving up all effort. The difference in power was just not fair, I couldn’t do anything but give up control and give in to her; frightened, bruised and helpless.

“Stubborn boy.” Mrs Scott scolded me. She had stopped shaking the pocket at some point, most likely with the thought of having broken me enough. Even in the darkness everything still turned and twisted around me. The gentle up and down of her movement finally started again, and I heard the opening and closing of the classroom door.

“Ok, Davey. I am picking up my stuff from the teachers’ room, and then we head of to my car. Just stay still. You are doing great.” I heard her whisper.

Giant fingers patted me through the cloaks fabric and **** me against her for a moment longer than necessary. She seemed to enjoy that, and I would have probably too at another time.

Yawning, I gently settled in to the wavy rhythm of Mrs Scott walking.

A sudden roar ripped me out of my vegetative state. The sound was booming through every fibre of my body, painfully wrenching on my skin and bones. Immediately I started struggling again, forgetting where I was for a second, pushing against the walls around me, arms flailing wildly, before the gentle pressure of a hand held me still against the flesh behind me.

“There, there. Did that scare you?” Mrs Scott worried voice rung out above me. I was now recognizing the steady hum of a car motor vibrating and prickling through me; the violent sound before must have been the initial ignition.

“Shhh...Shh...Sh. You are safe with me, little one.” Mrs Scott’s stroked my body through the cloak’s fabric, until I felt the strain in my arms, legs and neck give away to empty weakness and drowsiness again. Her petting and care was actually calming me, even though I didn't want to accept her care.

“Sleep some more, Davey. I will wake you once we are at home.” Mrs Scott whispered above me, unaware of any of that. I obediently snuggled myself back into the itchy warmth of the fabric’s embrace, hoping with a blank stare that unconsciousness would take me again.

However, that didn't happen. The droning orchestra of the car engine, passing cars and the occasional horn vibrated through my entire body like a series of animating electric shocks. Accompanied by the steady rocking of the car, feeling like an earthquake.

I couldn't tell how long I have been in here.

The monotonous darkness of the pocket made chronological orientation almost impossible. Time in the classroom seemed, like a movie I had watched weeks ago. My life before that? Years away. The thought that it probably wasn't even 11 o'clock made me nauseous. I could almost forget that I was no bigger than a pencil nestled against my maths teacher's chest, but somewhere else: in a hammock of the cabin of a high-seas boat, the muffled roar of cars like ocean waves crashing against the bow. Loud honking, the crunching of Mrs Scott's body on the leather seat as well as my naked skin sliding over the scratchy fabric, however, jolted me out of my escape fantasy.

Several times it occurred to me to scramble up the wiry woollen walls, only to squeeze myself between flap and coat to freedom. Mrs Scott would be too distracted by the driving to prevent me from doing what I wanted to do; at least that's how it went through my head. The only question was: what then?

At best, she would not notice my disappearance or, more likely, would not be able to prevent it. Her cart certainly offers some hiding places for a pencil-sized young man and then, as soon as the car stops at some point, I can slip away into the surroundings. Naked. Disoriented. Six inches tall. Lunch for the next cat.

Worst case scenario, we'd both be killed in a car crash, triggered by Mrs Scott's attempt to thwart my escape escapade.

Even in my **** and determination-hungry mind, the idea seemed like absolute bullshit.

I was jolted out of my thoughts when the car engine suddenly stopped.

Moments earlier, the steady backdrop of street noise had changed to the rattle of lawnmowers and chirping of birds in a quiet neighbourhood on the outskirts of town.

The opening of the car door awakened my creaking body like a gunshot accompanied by hot flashes in my muscle tissues. The ebb and flow of Mrs Scott's movement made me uncomfortably aware again of my tricky predicament. A deluge of images and emotions hit me. I vomited a harsh croak from my dry throat as a new surge of fear set in.

"Shhh, shhh, Davey. We're almost there..." I heard the calm voice in the black sky above me.

Mrs Scott had interpreted my frantic pushing and gripping of the walls around me for what it was. The non-verbal response I received was the strong yet gentle pressure of one of her hands moulding me into the scratchy fabric and warm breast flesh behind as if in stinging clay.

While this caused my kicking to subside, my claustrophobia was only furthered by the constriction. I wanted to scream into the blistering hot blackness of the bag, to resist this degrading treatment, but no sound arose in my dry-aching throat.

Mrs Scott seemed to consider my immobility a success, to have calmed her pupil, as she continued to click her heels, humming happily.

With the turn of a key in the lock, the pressure of her hand eased, and I slumped half **** on the floor of the bag.

A few moments later, the bag was tugged, and glistening light burst into my little world, poking glowingly through my retinas into the back of my head. Fingers slipped into the pocket, gingerly feeling their way out like a snake's tongue on the prowl until they found my crouching form and closed around my chest.