In the pocket of her coat

“You seem awfully cold, Davey” Mrs Scott inquired, after a moment of thought.

I was still planted on her right hand, having pulled my knees to my chest to cover my dick and balls, which dangled freely in the chilly class room air.

“Y-Yes” I said with a nod, another shiver running through my body. I had slung my arms around my body. Still, the palm of her hand wasn’t radiating nearly enough heat for my small stature. The idea to just lay down flat like on warm sand was very enticing.

Mrs Scott snickered at my teeth chattering response, her seeming disregard causing a sharp sting in my chest.

“You sound like a chipmunk.” She noted with a grin, before lowering a huge finger behind me and gently stroking my back with a coo. I almost fell over from the **** of the initial contact, while I involuntarily stiffened even more. The little act of petting me with her finger showed me the seemingly infinitely vast power difference in our new dynamic.

She could probably squish me to bloody paste with her flat hand or maybe even only a few fingers, I thought with a shiver. Or just impale me by shoving one of her red, pointy fingernails through my chest like a ballista bolt.

Mrs Scott stood up from her chair, and in consequence the word around me began to fall at neck-breaking speed. Painful exhaustion stroke through my whole body, as I braced myself from the sudden motion.

“Now, I just know the place for you.” She said, while walking over to the teacher’s desk.

Her left hand was protectively covering my back, probably to make sure I wasn’t falling or doing anything reckless, but also giving me simple protection from the cold.

Not that I currently had the physical or mental capacities to pull off any reckless escape manoeuvre. Yes, I wanted to get away from her, get some alone time to stabilize myself, as the whole situation overwhelmed me: the abrupt shrinking, high certainty of pain and ****, the unknown future of my existence. Everything felt hostile and deadly, while my mind didn't provide much support, feeling frozen and lethargic, like thinking though butter. My body was beyond any feelings of weakness I have ever felt, as if my arms could snap at any second like dry-frozen sticks.

My view out of the fleshy hideout was blocked by the wall of her stomach and bosom bobbing up and down, covered in the white, button up blouse. The tightness in which it snuggled her massive body roused my limp dick. I could even make out the flowery pattern of her bra, hiding the actual form of her breasts. My lustful reaction at least alleviated some of my anxiety and pain.

Her left hand disappeared from my backside, and I heard a lock turn and a creak, as Mrs Scott opened the wooden locker on the right-hand side of the desk. As I turned around to see what she was doing, she produced a dark-brown trench coat from the desk locker and placed it on the desk.

“Off you go!” Mrs Scott lowered her right hand onto the desk and gently shook me off, and with a short yelp I slid onto a stack of work sheets.

“Good boy!” Mrs Scott cooed with a smile, as if I had any choice in the matter, and started to put on the coat.

I had nothing else to do but to watch her button up, seeing the form-fitting blouse give way to a rougher estimation of her body shape. The over swelling breast flesh, which seemed to burst through the blouse at any moment was now well contained in a cotton balcony.

“Here is the deal, young man.” Mrs Scott continued once the last button was done. “You.” She pointed a long finger at my small form, staring up at her. “Go in there.” She pointed at a long chest pocket sewn onto the right-hand side of the coat.

A funky grin played on her lips as she gauged my reaction.

A betraying flush rose in my cheeks, at the thought of being so close to her. An other part of me thought of the pockets on her blouse, and what it would be like to be stored in them instead, making my mouth water. I would be basically pinned to her fat breasts.

My cock hard as steel, painfully throbbing as if it was going to burst. _Shit. _Shameful by my disgusting lechery towards my math teacher, I lowered my head with glowing cheeks, like a schoolboy caught staring at his crush.

She promptly hummed “Good.” without waiting much for a response. Two fingers gingerly applied pressure a lifted me up.

I protested with a "Wait!", grabbing the finger at my chest and trying to push it off, as I was still packing a noticeable hard on. I am not sure if she even detected my efforts - she must have felt my touch at least - as Mrs Scott continued to lift me towards her right breast.

A few feet away in my world, we suddenly stopped, and my fear became reality as Mrs Scott's eyes were focusing something below my waistline.

"Are we becoming a bit exited, my boy." Mrs Scott commented smugly, her brown eyes focusing coming up to focus mine with a mocking expression, before bashfully returning down to my crotch, where my cock was saluting back, straight as a soldier.

"Uh... I... Its not what you thi..." I started rambling, while squirming in her unrelenting grip to shield myself from her view.

"Oh, no." She interrupted me harshly. "I think that is exactly what I think it is, Davey."

Mrs Scott once again focused my pleading puppy eyes, drilling into them.

"No... its j-just... I... Uh..."

"Pretty stimulating, huh? To be handled like this. Those hormones must be on a rampage in that cute little body of yours. Now be honest. Do you like to be toyed with by an older woman, Davey?" She had a condescending grin on her face, as she spoke in a husky voice.

"I-I-I.... Uh... N-... Uhm..." My whole face burned with shame and humiliation, the tips of my ears could fry an egg. Mrs Scott reacted with a patronizing chuckle, at my goofy display.

"Now, now, Davey. Don't play stupid. Its a simple question with a simple answer. Its normal for a boy your age to look for someone to take charge, don't be ashamed. And answer me, boy!"

Mrs Scott had risen me closer to her face, so that I felt the outbreath of every word, a cool prickle on my feverishly scorching and oversensitive body, causing me to shudder involuntarily. Her words only threw fuel on the fire, as I turned into a babbling and whimpering mess between her fingers, squirming softly under her merciless grip.

"Oh my, oh my. What a helpless little thing you are." Mrs Scott cooed, making sure to blow warm air over my sensitive form with every pause. The sparkle in her eyes was new to me, not the one she wore when putting down students. Demanding, playful and aggressive. Sexually charged. A rosy colour had painted her cheeks alluringly.

Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, as I finally gave up to form anything coherent in my traitorous mouth. They rolled down to my chin where they dripped onto her finger with low splashes. I sobbed softly, body shaking with every sob, arms hanging limply on my sides, cock still straining hard, my final plead for mercy.

"Shhh, Davey. I am just messing with you. There, there..." The commanding steel and burning taunt had mostly disappeared from her voice, giving place to hush comfort and sympathy. A giant finger softly drew circles on top of my head, causing shivers to run down my spine. "Poor baby... You are just so fricking adorable, you make me act all up, you little Casanova. Shh, Shh, Don't cry, Davey. C'mon. You are a big boy, yes?"

My tears finally ceased running, as I took some consolation from her speech, even though it was laced with more degradation. But I didn't care, latching onto any form of motherly care, drinking it up greedily in my Sarah of shame.

I looked up to her through red tear-streaked eyes, opening my mouth to say something, to only produce a low groan. Not sure what I wanted to say at this point. Maybe some kind of retaliation or rebellion. Something that made me respect myself again, with chest pushed out, head held high. Put me back into the game, even out the playing field. Not have someone play it for me. Play me.

"All better now, Davey?" Mrs Scott inquired sweetly, as her gentle finger still ruffled my hair and occasional breaths soothed my feverish skin.

"Y-Y..h." I nodded, lying. I felt like shit. No surprises there. My body smouldered as if it was trying to melt itself, incredibly sensitive to the touch, muscles like cheap rubber. All the while I tried to keep my mind away from what else she could do to me. She certainly showed potential to use me for her own games.

"Aww, come here, little boy." Suddenly I was moved the last few inches towards her dark-red glazed lips, which enveloped my head like a mushy wet cushion. I once again struggled against her advance: Hands and legs flailing while I tried to turn my face away, until a firm finger placed itself at the back of my head, holding me face-first against her if I wanted or not. With a audible smack of her lips, that sounded akin to a pistol crack in my ears, she finally released me.

"Now look at you, boy." Mrs Scott giggled at my dazed and defeated look. "I'm going to make all these girls in your age jealous."

I felt cool gloss drying on my skin, as she had imprinted a luscious red image of her lips onto my face. I hung my head defeatedly, but a finger sneaked its way under my chain, raising my face to her. Her eyes found mine, challenging me. Until I looked away, to which she chuckled.

I wanted to hide, from her, from the world. But Mrs Scott was more interested studying the properly marked face of her young student. The deathly silence between us said more than enough.

"Now lets get going. We can continue this at a later time." Mrs Scott gave my tired eyes a sexy wink, before raising me to her chest and the pocket that aligned it.

She opened the buttoned flap with one hand, and let me fall inside with the other.

The pocket was almost as deep as I was tall. If I stood up, I could probably peek over the rim of the opening, to see where we are going. At least until Mrs Scott buttoned it close, leaving me in total darkness and the combined smell of detergent and a heady lavender perfume.