Class Pet: Chapter 41 (Patreon)

DISCLAIMER: Sexually explicit content intended for adults. All characters are fictional and written as consenting adults. Written situations and scenes are imagined and not to be taken literally. This story complies with Patreon's Community Guidelines.

Time for reflection.

Ms. Stone stood nude under the shower water. Her soapy palms held on tighter to the squirmy little creature in her hand. She couldn't contain her amusement at the sight of Adam's naked lower half poking vulnerably out from the top of her closed fist, his twig-like legs windmilling uselessly. The woman's girlish giggles escaped her plush lips and echoed within the confines of the shower stall. Her manicured fingernail poked and teased the miniature man's upturned feet, causing Adam to increase the rate of his rapid kicks in reaction to her giant touch on his sensitive soles. But his desperate squirms only encouraged the woman's exploration, her large sudsy fingers bully his little legs around as she sniggered amusedly at his helpless reactions.

Adam stretched and kicked his legs every which way, struggling in his upside-down position. His puny feet blindly felt through the air as he attempted to fend off his titanic teacher's tender touch and the oversized raindrops which splashed all around. Adam had been held vulnerably in Ms. Stone's giant presence before, but somehow, being alone with his sexy math teacher while she bathed and her undivided attention was solely focused on his little form, held in such an exposed position, he never felt so vulnerable. He couldn't see her hazel, green eyes, but he could feel them playfully scrutinizing his powerless legs and the sensitive little treasure they instinctively strived to protect. Spending the nights and mornings alone with his teacher-turned-goddess, Adam had begun to notice a change in those beautiful yet terrifyingly intimidating eyes. They no longer looked at him with confused indifference. No. Ms. Stone, his hot yet conserved and professionally distant high school teacher, now observed and handled his needy little body with what seemed to be genuine interest. This realization only further clouded the trapped schoolboy's brain as gravity slowly encouraged the blood to his head.

How long had he been upside down? He didn't even know anymore. Would his goddess' curiosity override his comfort? Would she continue to hold his sensitive nudity under the gentle shower of warm water? His toy-like body wasn't so filthy, like her thunderous voice had observed earlier, that she needed to spend so much time rinsing his manhood—was it? She was so gigantic and all-controlling of him now—he wasn't sure. Every ginormous woman the young man met now seemed to exist on a different, physical plane than he did. Maybe Ms. Stone's seemingly cruel yet silently caring hands had only been holding him in the shower for a few moments. He didn't belong here with her, in her bathing place. His diminished brain couldn't comprehend being here, sharing an intimate moment of cleaning with the mature woman he had watched from afar. Perhaps his miniature brain and eyes even viewed time differently now. Who was he to say? Who was he to question his goddess, or the time she spent washing his helpless form?

Ms. Stone quietly cooed at the sight of her helpless toy student. His little legs no longer resisted her touch. They passively slumped over her thumb. Occasionally, his handsomely athletic calves flexed under her touch, instinctively resisting her despite all the love she had shown him. He was so innocent and scared, she couldn't blame him. He had been through so much, learned more than most who were cursed with his size. Holding his delicate and beautiful body now, Ms. Stone wondered if it was truly a curse and not a blessing. But still, Adam was so easily frightened now, like a scared little mouse. He reminded her of the frightened mice she had passively observed in Ms. Blank's science room. For a moment, Ms. Stone's mind thought back to that memory.

It was before the outbreak, before the mass shrinking of young men and some young women. Her psyche briefly struggled to remember that time. A short summer break and school year, yet it seemed so long ago—because—it was a different time. Maybe it wasn't chronologically long ago, but psychologically. Though not long ago by the classroom clock, the sweeping change in daily social life made it feel like another world entirely—the New World Order. Women were growing more and more every day, not just physically, but mentally. For millennia, they had been the weak, oppressed sex. Now, the scripts had flipped. Once the oppressed sex, their long echo chamber of victimhood had left them naive, shaped by generations of instruction on what they should and shouldn’t be. Some unseen force saw this injustice and decided to change the playing field—drastically.

Young women weren't the only ones struggling with their newfound power dynamic. She herself, a scholar and mentor, struggled. She realized it in that moment of reflection. She could see it all now, everything that had previously been hidden behind unseen barriers. It was as clear as the water that flowed smoothly down her nude skin. Ms. Stone recognized that she had been as naive as the schoolgirls she hoped to teach. And she was guilty, complacent. She was responsible. The passively trusting body she held in her observant grasp was only further evidence of this realization.

Ms. Stone's mind flashed back to that memory of the old world, observing the trapped mice with her coworkers. The woman of different ages and backgrounds, the ones she had grown close with, casually chatting and studying the odd little creatures in their clear cages. Who could have guessed the change in the world that watched them over the horizon?

Ms. Stone meditated on this memory. What if instead of disgusting little mice, shrunken men had been trapped in those clear, sterilized containers? Ms. Stone's more horny and playful side dwelt on this image. Naive students and confused coworkers, suddenly forced to live a helpless existence, one similar to that women had previously been forced to face—albeit now blown up to epic proportions. Ms. Stone could see it: Lonely women looking in through the see-through cages, curiously tapping their nails on the glass, unsure what to make of the naked little creatures inside. Ms. Stone did not even realize her own manicured fingers had slowly found their way to her upper thighs, her subconscious daring to touch herself. The image Ms. Stone had conjured in her mind: contained and vulnerable men, cautiously fascinated women, the newfound situation and confusion for both parties, it turned her on. Her dark red fingernails patted and slowly scrubbed her wet pubic mound. She listened to the soft rhythm of raindrops on her sudsy scalp. Her half-lidded eyes blurred between the strangely sexual scene she had cooked up in her daydream and the cute sight of Adam's muscular little ass poking helplessly out from the top of her fist. She could feel his heightened pulse and panicked breaths against her sensitive fingertips. Tiny men truly shared many similarities with a classroom mouse. Even his boyish feet were as cute as a mouse's paw, small like a bean. She brought her treasured toy closer and lightly kissed the two little objects, attempting to detect the near imperceptible details of his tiny toes and soles with her sensitive lips. The reactive scrunch of his toes felt like a tingle across her plush lips. She muffled a giggle against his weakly struggling feet before releasing the smooch with a wet pop. She casually turned the miniature man in her hand, graciously returning him to his upright position. Ms. Stone's dreamy, relaxed features could no longer contain her amusement at the boy's dizzy little expression. Adam's head helplessly poked out from between her carefully manicured fingers. His curly dark hair further expressed his discombobulation, sticking wildly up in the air like a funny spike cut. The sight reminded Ms. Stone of a toy troll doll she once owned as a kid. The adventures she had shared with that doll. But that doll was fake and plastic. Even at that age, she knew it. The young and uncaring version of herself had likely left that ugly little toy behind in a play box. He would be safe there with her old memories. She no longer needed him, for she had gained a new toy who was of much greater value, a toy that reacted to her every touch, a toy that stared at her body with fear and admiration. Ms. Stone slightly shifted her closed fist from side to side, gently encouraging her tiny charge to regain his bearings after the unintentionally thorough cleaning she had gifted him.

"Hello there, little mousie." Ms. Stone purred teasingly. "I guess it must be getting pretty hot and steamy in here, huh? You look like a tired little mouse boy. Don't worry. I got you in my hands. I will protect you."

She carried him closer, feeling his little hairs tickle against her damp cheek.

"But I don't want to overwhelm my favorite pet mouse, do I?" Ms. Stone continued breathily. "Come now. Let's get you dry and cozy before this water shrivels you into a raisin! I don't want such a thing happening to a handsome body like yours."

Ms. Stone carefully cradled her prized pupil closer. Her looming breasts and aroused nipples shielded Adam from the misty waterfall. Ms. Stone's thunderous legs stepped out from the shower stall. Her thumb and palm gently held against Adams's backside, encouraging him to rest against her skin.

(No minor is mentioned in this text. As previously mentioned, a "schoolboy" can still be a legal adult attending high school. The term "boy" does not exclusively mean an adolescent. "Boy" can also refer to a young ADULT man, especially when being talked down to by a superior. A giant, ADULT teacher playfully calling their shrunken, ADULT student "little boy" does not constitute CSAM. Kindly, grow up.

*Adam is an eighteen-year-old student, shrunken down in size by his giantess teacher. Any mention of him being "little" or "small" is purely about size, NOT age.)

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