THE SEMINAR   The place

THE SEMINAR   The place

THE SEMINAR

The place: a college town somewhere in North America

The time: just a few decades after the GREAT CHANGE

Chapter 1- the lecture

Driven by both pain and anxiety, Jeanie and Caitlin ran down the passageway,

deftly avoiding other students and occasional male workers, or the even smaller

male pets. Their anxiety stemmed from the fact that they were late for their

class, and on the very first day too. They had some reason to worry, as Dr.

Burgess was known to be a stickler for punctuality.

The pain came from their feet, as they sprinted along on unfamiliar high heels,

which the course prospectus had indicated were required equipment for the first

day. Jeanie moaned out loud, wondering why they had not worn their flats, and

changed into these heels when they arrived at the classroom.

As they turned a corner Caitlin suddenly collided with a worker-sized male,

stunning him and hurling his meter long form directly to the terrazzo floor.

Being in such a rush, Caitlin clattered on by the sprawled man. However a few

steps later she noticed that Jeanie was not with her. She stopped and turned to

see her ever-mischievous roommate standing over the little man. Jeanie was a

very pretty girl, and not especially tall, yet the shiny new shoe she dangled

playfully over the males upturned face appeared bigger than his entire head.

“Jeanie, stop that. We’re already late, and you know how we’ve been looking

forward to this class. “

“But Cait, this one is a very bad boy. He got right in your way. You could have

been hurt. And see, he doesn’t have a collar. He’s out in public without his

owner. I think we should walk on him a little, and then turn him into the campus

police. What do you say? It’s our duty, you know.”

Jeanie threw back her head, tossing the long blonde curls out of her face, and

gave her friend a plaintive look.

“Oh, geez, Jeanie, we just don’t have the time. Besides, look at the uniform

that he’s got on. He’s a custodian. That’s why the little dink doesn’t have a

collar.

Still Jeanie tarried a moment. She rested her foot lightly on the man’s chest,

all the time grinning at him in much the same way that predator’s have grinned

at their prey since time began. At last she reluctantly exhaled, then propelled

her supple body into action to catch up with Caitlyn, who was again loudly

jogging down the long hallway. The 2 co-eds eventually arrived at an impressive,

outsized oak door. On it was a small cardboard sign that Jeanie read out loud.

“Business Management 610-male control in the workplace, Dr. M. Burgess. Yep,

this is the place.” They pushed through the door and made their way to the front

of the lecture hall where a handful of young women were already seated. Jeanie

was relieved to see that the presentation had not yet started.

Doctor Melanie Burgess peered over the top of her stylish glasses at the new

students. She sat comfortably on the corner of her desk, contentedly resting on

one elbow. She was a very striking woman of indeterminate age. A shock gleaming

black hair, and a finely tailored blue blazer, contrasted against the pale

unlined skin of her handsome face.

As her students fished out their notebooks and recorders, Melanie languidly

raised her long nylon-covered leg and seemed to stare at the toe of her old

brown high-heeled shoe. For a moment she allowed some fond reflection about

those shoes. How many times had she taught this seminar with these same trusty,

comfortable heels on her feet? They were her favorites, with the polished

leather seasoned and lined from their years of service, and the thin soles

stained from the soft wet bodies of a hundred little men? Soon she would have to

replace those old shoes. The thought made her sad. It would be like losing two

close friends.

Dr. Burgess’s musing was interrupted by the squeaky sound of turning wheels. She

turned to see a large cart rolling up to toward the front of the room. On it

were stacked several dozen small cages, each stamped with the certified logo of

the DMC-Department Of Male Corrections. Each cage efficiently housed one

frightened male prisoner, each having been reduced to the Departments official

incarceration height of 10 cm. Melanie noticed her students looking with great

interest as the cart passed. One athletic blonde acted particularly eager and

excited. She was certain that it was one of the girls who had scampered in late.

Very pretty young ladies, she had thought. But obviously, not used to running in

high heels.

Pushing the cart was a rather large, yet attractive woman wearing a DMC uniform.

She pushed and pulled at her portable lock-up, until it sat behind Melanie’s

desk. She then leaned across the desk to speak to the professor.

“Well Doc, there ya go. I swear the little smudges get heavier every year. Think

this will be enough for the week?”

“Hi Emmy. I’m afraid you’re just getting older girl. And this should be plenty.

You know we only meet 3 times a week.”

“Yea, well, you forget that I’ve observed your classes before, and I know how

fast you can go through the little buggers.”

Melanie laughed out loud. “ Yea, that’s true. I always believe that education

should be fun, too. Any in this group really interesting?”

‘Well, they’re mostly the usual group of squishers-slackers and escapees mostly.

There is one fella, number 87, that is kind of fun. We picked him up in one of

our sweeps in the sewers. He must have been on his own for quite a while. He

just can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. Oh, and there’s a special group on the

back of the cart who are all clone-brothers. Believe it or not, they’re

registered as genetically enhanced footboys. Seems they belonged to the Mayor’s

daughter. They all escaped together, and she doesn’t even want them back. She’s

replaced the whole lot already, and you know how much those things cost. Just

goes to show how the other half lives. Anyway I thought you might be personally

interested in that crew.”

“Hmmm, that does sound nice. I owe you a big one, Emmy. I certainly can’t

afford, on my salary, to keep a boy in every shoe. You wouldn’t think it was a

bribe if I saved a few of those footboys for you?”

Emmy beamed with glee. “Just what I was hoping you’d say, Doc. I sure can’t

afford those enhanced models either. Well I’d better get back to work. Remember

the loud one is number 87.

“Seeya Emmy, and thanks.”

Doctor Burgess stood and turned at last to face her students. “Hello. I’m Doctor

Melanie Burgess, and it has been my pleasure to teach this graduate level

seminar for several years. As you know, the emphasis of this course is on

techniques of trampling. Now I know that you have all enjoyed walking on men,

however I need to begin by pointing out how our work here may differ from what

you are accustomed to.”

“Women trample for many reasons; as a ritual of supremacy, or an act of

ownership, or even as a sport. But mostly, women are called to trample as a pure

act of pleasure. The act of standing on a male is now so commonplace; that most

of us take it for granted as one the most natural and simple joys of life. As

such, we naturally focus on our own sense of touch. Few things match the warm

skin-to-skin experience that happens when we sense a man lying passively beneath

us. It is then natural that we often indulge our males, knowing that they

sometimes experience as much happiness worshipping us as we feel in being

worshipped.

But for our purposes today the priorities are quite different. We will learn to

use trampling as an essential management tool in educating, in motivating, and

in punishing the many men whose skills are still needed to make our young

civilization work. In short, we are more concerned with the effect of our

trampling on him, than the feeling it gives us. Now I am well aware that

scientists tell us that it is psychologically unhealthy for a woman to step on a

man and feel no pleasure at all. No, we shall still be aware of our own needs,

but please remember that we will always be concerned first with what it does to

him.

“This brings us to the question of footwear. I see you are all wearing simple

high-heeled pumps, as specified in the required equipment list. And I also see

that not all of you are comfortable wearing them.” Melanie looked rather

pointedly at Caitlin and Jeanie, who seemed as absorbed in rubbing their own

sore feet, as in following the lecture. “Now, at home I wear Sandals, and

sneakers like everyone else. But it is important to remember that heels are an

integral part of management in the modern workplace. It saddens me that so many

younger women no longer have a full appreciation of this wonderful tool.”

Melanie now spoke more quickly, and with more emotion, as this was a subject

very close to her.

“Look at this tough but flexible thin sole. It can mold the flesh of the most

athletic worker to the shape of my shoe. Yet the veteran tramper gets sufficient

“feel” through the sole to help her stay balanced on even the most squirmy and

uncooperative man.”

“Then there is the classic shape of the sharp tapered heel. Even a very small

worker can easily be persuaded to accept it deep into his throat. I have been

told that choking on a high heel is among the most desperate and intense

sensations that a man can experience. It is unfortunate that women managers so

infrequently employ this powerful method in their work. Of course if sterner

measures are called for, no male (genetically altered or not) can avoid being

fatally impaled by one artfully delivered thrust.”

“The pointed toe can be equally useful. It can lead the way for a devastating

kick, or delicately seek just the right spot for crushing. Those of you, who

have had the frustrating experience of having tiny testicles slip out from under

the ball of your foot, should appreciate the efficiency with which even a single

testicle can be sought out and crushed. I can tell you from long experience that

there is no better way of totally immobilizing an obstinate worker, short of

killing him.”

“Now I know that in the past pumps were thought of as old fashioned, hot, and

uncomfortable. However with newer designs and materials, and with the shoes

properly sized, wearing high heels simply cannot lead to foot problems. Yes,

enclosed shoes can be warm, but as most of us can now afford at least one pair

of temperature controlled male insoles, we need not suffer even that small

discomfort.”

As Melanie continued her lecture, she drew attention to her own feet. She lifted

her foot towards her students and illustrated each point by displaying her own

pump at just the right angle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw, with

amusement, that on the cart, many smaller pairs of eyes were also staring

intently at her shoes. Slowly she placed her shoe back on the floor and smoothly

withdrew her stocking foot; while wriggling her long, graceful toes

suggestively. She worried about the angle; perhaps the little men were missing

this.

“Of course the absence of laces or other fasteners, allows you to easily remove

your foot, even if you are still perched atop the object of your attention. This

is quite helpful when the warmth and scent of your toes is needed to calm a

panic-stricken subject or to control his breathing.”

“Let’s see. I have only one other point to mention, and then we can get on to

today’s demonstration. Because of the potential for fatal consequences to the

men, managerial trampling has often been associated with that vocal minority in

our society that favors limiting the numbers of males, or even eliminating them

entirely. Nothing could be further from the truth. While I can’t speak for all

the women in my profession, I can certainly speak for myself. I like men. I like

them a lot! In fact many of the happiest moments in my life have come while

teasing, playing with or otherwise using the lesser half of our species. Men are

an important part of our lives. I am also convinced that it is very wrong to

kill men simply on a whim. Men do have value. It is true that the government has

been generous in supplying me with prisoners. They now have little worth except

as teaching aids. Frankly, all of you will kill some men during this semester,

either accidentally or otherwise. But even the dregs of male hood that you see

on the cart behind me, still have the ability to kindle in us that special

feeling. If any of you has her doubts about that, then I would ask you to do

this. Go home tonight and stand in your stocking feet on your personal servant,

or some other male in your household. Then ask yourself this question. Could you

enjoy this same feeling by dominating any other creature on the world? And if

you stood on your cat, or dog, or hamster, would they look up at you with the

same devotion that your boy offers you. I think not. No woman would wish to

return to the barbarism of 2-meter tall testosterone spewing volcanoes wreaking

havoc with the earth. And hardly any woman would want to go back to reproducing

like lower animals, skewered on the brutal phallus of a violent self-centered

beast. Still, if there were no men in the world, it would be a very boring place

to live. Men after all, are humans too.”

‘Well, I think I will now come down off my soapbox. In a moment I will select a

volunteer from the cart. I will expand him up to a full meter and a quarter in

height, and then we can get on with the more interesting parts of my course. So,

any questions?”

“Doctor Burgess?”

“Yes”

“ You said he would be a meter and a quarter? Did I hear you correctly? I

thought by law that no male could be taller than a meter.”

“You’re certainly correct. However our department has a special license, which

allows for creating such large males. You see; we have discovered that when

teaching women not experienced at trampling with sharp spikes, the chances of

the man’s survival are much greater if he is very large. We really want some of

them to survive. After all, it would hardly be fair to every other department in

the university if our little seminar used up all the available male prisoners

each and every semester.”

By this time, Melanie was quite ready for that portion of her seminar that

focused on action, and not just talking. She approached the cart and quickly

found cubicle 87. She pulled the little man out and smiling, dangled the

squirming “volunteer” from her fingers. She then gently deposited him on the

floor. Melanie aimed the sizing gun at the frightened little man. He was bathed

in luminescence and suddenly there was a man before them, one and one-quarter

meters in height. There were several sincere gasps from the class as none of

these young women had ever seen a man so huge. It was almost frightening to

them. If the gaunt bearded man kneeling on the floor knew that he was scary, he

certainly didn’t show it. While her subject adjusted to the sudden size change,

Melanie moved quickly to bind his arms. A slender belt extended around his

waist, with his forearms firmly attached to the belt by means of small leather

cuffs. He could perhaps walk, but could move his arms only a few inches away

from his body. As her students marveled at her confident moves, Melanie finished

her task and returned to her desk. Sitting once more comfortably, she extended

her foot toward him. He looked back at her with a gaze full of both sadness and

hope.

“Boy,” she called out sternly, “Come here now!”

END CHAPTER 1

 

Chapter 2 more action, less talk

Sitting on her desk, Melanie looked deeply into the sad eyes of the man who

knelt before her. Emmy said he was loud. She had taken that to mean that he

would scream and cry and beg for mercy. That’s what she was looking for. Melanie

always tried to start a demonstration with a good noisy pleader. That usually

got everyone’s attention and got her students in the right frame of mind to

learn. Instead he mutely returned her gaze.

“Boy, do you have a name?”

“Yes, Doctor Burroughs. My name is Ronnie.”

Melanie was shocked. Most men could not look her in the eye, let alone dare call

her by name; particularly not men from the Detention Center. They were usually

too petrified to think at all.

“Why, you really are a smart boy. So Ronnie,” Melanie purred raising her worn

shoe sole to a spot scant inches from his upturned face, “Can you tell me what

this is?”

“Yes, Ma’am. That is your favorite research tool. One of the comfortable pumps

you like to wear when walking on or crushing men like me.”

She was taken aback once more. “My favorite what? How did you know that?”

“Ma’am, I’ve read all of your research papers. I’ve carefully followed your work

for years.”

By this point Melanie was thoroughly intrigued with this little man. She wanted

to stop the lecture and take him aside. But even as one half of her mind buzzed

with notions of how to have pleasure with this interesting male, the other half

noted that her class was becoming restless, waiting for some action. With

reluctance, she leaned forward and whispered to him in almost an intimate way.

“Boy, I’d like to hear more about your reading habits. But I have a class to

teach. We’ll take this up later, if you’re able to talk then, of course.”

With that she rammed her shoe into his shoulder, and pushed him down, With no

way to use his hands to break his fall, he fell heavily onto his back.

Melanie rose and stood theatrically, with her foot resting on his bony chest.

The room was silent save for the heavy breathing coming from Ronnie. Then, she

simply stepped onto his trembling body. Her movements were deliberate and

precise. The right heel was anchored in the thigh, and the sole firmly placed

across his pelvic region. Her other sole invaded his abdomen, pressing both

down, and toward his ribcage. Melanie pressed down till she could start to feet

the hard bony ridge of his backbone pushing up against her foot. Then she rocked

back lightly on her heel embedding it carefully in his forearm, near his waist.

She then stopped and gazed gently at her class. Yes, they were still paying

attention. Then she glanced down at the face of Ronnie. She had his attention,

too.

Next, Melanie prepared to rotate her body. She moved her left foot and placed

the sole firmly on his chest. The toe sank in just below his neck, very near the

spot where his thin collarbones met his sturdier breastbone. Her sharp heel,

already reddened at the tip where it had rested in his arm, now hovered

menacingly, above the solar plexus. Then she gradually shifted her full weight

onto that foot. Slowly Ronnie’s chest began to sink, as the air was expelled

from his collapsing lungs. A couple of times as her foot made it’s inexorable

descent, Melanie detected the telltale crackling noise of Ronnie’s ribs starting

to break, indicating to her expert senses that she was going too fast. A short

pause allowed his strained ribcage to adjust to her weight, and then she resumed

her measured downward thrust. The entire movement took at least a minute, but at

last his flattened chest bore her full weight. Then the right foot rotated. With

the heel still lodged in his thigh, She lifted her sole and rotated on the axis

of her heel. More quickly now, the ball of her foot sank into his abdomen. Only

when this movement was done, did she allow her other heel to fall, penetrating

the yielding flesh of the upper stomach. As she transferred weight to the right

foot, and left heel, the battered ribcage rose slightly. Once again Melanie’s

posture grew more relaxed. She could not help but gaze once more at Ronnie’s

sweating face. His features were contorted by muscle spasms, like one suffering

the final stages of tetanus; and his shiny skin flushed purple from the

pressure, and from the lack of Oxygen. Still he managed a wan smile for her, as

if to say, “I hope you are enjoying this.” With difficulty she drew her eyes

away from his and managed a relaxed grin for her students. After a moment, while

still slowly crushing the helpless Ronnie beneath her, She resumed her lecture.

“Now, class after you have practiced this a few times, I’m sure you will

appreciate better the importance knowing the male anatomy. Any angry woman can

kill a man with her feet, but it takes patience and knowledge to control just

how much you damage him. My cute little boy here, (did she actually refer to a

male as cute?) is in unspeakable agony, and of course is unable to breathe. But

nothing critical is broken yet. At this point he could probably return to his

duties the same day. Now watch closely as I do some basic movements. In a few

minutes you will all be up here practicing these actions on some of our supply

of men. I believe the best way to learn is to dive right in and get your feet

wet, so to speak. But don’t get them too wet. Remember, we want some of these

men to survive!”

As Melanie resumed her demonstration on Ronnie, her students concentrated on her

form. Jeanie and Caitlin tried to focus, but it was hard not to be distracted by

staring at those heels sinking so deeply into the malleable flesh beneath them.

“Ewww, look at that,” whispered Caitlin, “I can’t believe she could stand on his

head that way. You’d think his head would pop like a ripe melon.”

“I know, “responded her roommate, “ and look how far that heel goes in his

mouth, when she gags him. Did the Professor just say he’d be able to talk after

that? I don’t know. And what’s she doing now on the chest?”

“Wow! Jeanie, see how she pumps his chest up and down. It’s kind of like CPR you

know, like she’s making him breathe just when she wants him to. I don’t think I

can do anything like that. I just hope I don’t fall off of him.”

“Oh, don’t worry girl. You’ll get into it. And look at that. I think he’s

enjoying it more than we are.”

Caitlyn stared, then suddenly flushed with embarrassment, and with excitement

too. “Oh my Gaaawwwd! Look at that big thing sticking up. It must be 4, or 5

inches long, or however many centimeters that is. I can’t remember. Gee, how big

would it be, if that boy were as tall as a woman? Just the idea is creepy. No

wonder some girls like to have them cut off.”

“Cait, you’re just being silly. I figure the bigger it is, the more fun it is to

squish it. And I think the Professor is going to do just that. Yep, she sees it,

and she’s stepping right on top of it. Look at him shake. Kind of looks like

some sort of epileptic seizure. I think he passed out!”

Melanie had certainly not meant to knock him out. She was both irritated and

mortified. She saw in the flaccid form beneath her feet an amateurish lack of

technique. She stepped of Ronnie’s unconscious body in disgust, and turned once

more to her class.

“I’m very sorry. As you can see, I made a silly mistake. I was moving too fast

and accidentally put too much pressure on the testicles. He won’t be much use

for a while. Well, I was almost done anyway. So let’s get on to the next

section. But please be patient. I’d like to call a couple of my Grad students at

the lab across the hall, to give me a hand.”

Melanie walked behind her desk and activated the vidphone. A few moments later a

pair of tall, statuesque young ladies burst into the room. They wore white lab

coats, and no stockings. Each had a different hairstyle, and different color

pumps. One wore glasses, and the other did not. Still it was readily apparent

that the two lively women were identical twins. They marched up to their boss

with identical looks of concern on their pretty faces.

“What do you need, Doctor Burgess?” wheezed Mona, who generally did the talking

for the twins, “Mary and I got here as soon as we could.”

“No emergency, Girls. I’d just like you to take over the class for a while. I

hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important at the lab.”

“Sure thing! We were just confirming the crush times on those 15 cm. Males. Just

routine stuff. But we thought you always liked to do the first class by

yourself.”

“That’s true. But, well, I’d sort of like to take some private time to deal with

this male.”

“You mean this fainter.” That was the usually reticent Mary, who was standing

over Ronnie. She punctuated her terse speech with a none-too-gentle kick to his

head. “We could take care of him.”

“That’s right, Doctor. You know good we are at dealing with fainters.”

Melanie could see the enthusiasm in both girls’ faces. They were good

assistants, and she almost hated to disappoint them.

“No, girls. I’d really like to do this myself. It would help me a lot if you

would expand about 4 of those males from the cart, and put the students through

their paces on some of the basic steps. Get them to try some heel in throat

stuff, too. This fellow didn’t make any noise at all. So they didn’t get to see

how to use the heel to quiet down a screamer. Then maybe you could finish up

with some testicular crushes. The students always like that. Just use your

imagination, and have some fun. I’ll be right over here behind my desk, if you

need me.”

“Well gee, no problem Doc. That sounds even better than playing with a fainter.

Mary and I are only too happy to help out any way we can. Besides, you know how

much Mary loves to show off her heel in throat work.”

“Yea, and Mona just hates stepping on balls, ” Mary quipped as they turned

around together. It was surprising how often Mary got in the last word on her

more talkative sister.

Mona took the sizing gun over to the cart and proceeded to pick some subjects,

while her sister herded the nervous, but eager students toward the front of the

room. Melanie looked at Ronnie, who was just now showing signs of waking up. She

leaned over and grasping Ronnie’s bruised arm with her long fingers dragged him

quickly around to the back of her desk. The man was heavy, but Melanie was

surprisingly strong for such a tall slender woman. She reached under her desk,

and pulled out one her most prized possessions. It was a small, odd-looking

stool, with a rectangular leather top, and a ramp extending from one side at a

45-degree angle towards the floor. It was, in fact, an antique bench from an

old-time shoe store. At one time a clerk had sat on this bench while helping

customers try on new shoes. Now, little men took care of all that, and, of

course, were not allowed to sit on furniture in the presence of a woman. Melanie

kept it under her desk at all times. It was a wonderful tool for interrogating

men. She often attached men to it as part of her research, or just for something

to play with during those long boring hours of paperwork. She now positioned

Ronnie on the bench, his back on the ramp and his head lying on the leather

seat. His legs were spread apart, and rested on the floor. She could see that

his damaged testicles were already swollen, but still round and well formed. She

had not crushed them completely. Melanie took some solace from this. At least

she had not completely lost her touch. There was no need to tie the man to the

ramp. He was not going anywhere.

Professor Burgess now slid into her comfortable desk chair. She rested one foot

on Ronnie’s lacerated stomach, and easily pushed her chair to a reclining

position. For the moment she turned her attention back to her class and to Mona

and Mary.

She noted with some relief that this group of men were much better pleaders.

They screamed and begged as they were expanded. The 2 young assistants were

clearly not as proficient as their boss at quickly binding the men. They were

doing well enough though, but the students milling about, and all the screaming

made for some confusion. Just as the last man was about to be enlarged, Melanie

saw one girl lose her footing and start to fall. It was one of the students who

had arrived late; this time it was the large buxom auburn haired one and not the

lean blonde. She caught herself, but not before she stumbled into the path of

the sizing ray. Suddenly she was more than 2 meters tall, banging her head on

the high ceiling, and quite disoriented. For a moment, confusion turned into

chaos. Screams and yells, both male and female, filled the air. Melanie watched

as the girl, stumbling in her bewilderment, stepped back to steady herself. Then

she saw that newly blown up foot and shiny new pump come down squarely on the

tiny man who was waiting to be enlarged. Despite his small size the sudden sharp

crack as his body disintegrated could be heard above the din, or so it seemed to

Melanie It was over in a fraction of a second as little puffs of pinkish fluid

shot out from under the giant high heel.

Just a moment later and the girl was back to her normal size and the clamor

became suddenly silence. She stood with a horrified look on her face, gawking at

the stain on the floor. She shook her head and refocused. Were those tears on

her face? Finally she looked over at Mona who still held the sizing gun. “Did I

hurt him?” she whispered.

The room now echoed with feminine laughter. Mona made a show of examining the

remains and pronounced, “Yep honey. I think you disposed of him pretty well.”

Mona was smart girl, but it took a minute before she realized the student was

really upset. Then she moved in to give tearful girl a sisterly hug. “Don’t cry

girl. Accidents happen. It won’t affect your grade. Really.”

“But you don’t understand. I see, well… I never disposed of a man before.”

Then her friend, the lean blonde, arrived. “See Caits has lived a pretty

sheltered life. Don’t be upset, Baby. You knew you’d have to do it real soon. I

know it’s no fun this way.”

The two students walked away, as several of their classmates gathered around

them, eager to hear all about this surprising “virgin” among them. Mona watched

the group for a second, and then glanced in exasperation at Melanie. The young

woman rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. Then she padded off to the

cart, to find a replacement for the fatality.

As the excitement appeared over for the time being, Melanie allowed herself a

few silent chuckles. This was beginning to look like the start of a very

interesting semester. Then she recalled that she had her own male to deal with.

She peered down at the man under her foot. His eyes were open and he was gazing

contentedly up at her, ignoring the pain in his badly damaged body.

“What are you staring at, boy?”

“Without hesitation he replied in an smooth sincere voice. “ A very very

beautiful woman, Ma’am.”

Melanie was shocked at how much those words affected her. She was never much for

flattery. Yet it was certainly true that if all men adopted this tone, a lot

fewer of them would get squished. Melanie pushed her foot firmly into his

midsection, as if to prove that the compliment meant nothing. She then leaned

forward, and in a voice more soft than she meant to use, spoke to him.

“Alright Ronnie. Now tell me about yourself.”

End Chapter 2

Next time Ronnie tells his story, and the students get to practice.

Chapter 3

Ronnie hesitated for a moment. The pain in his midsection was intense. He could

feel his internal organs being compressed by the insistent pressure of Melanie’s

sole. Ronnie took a great chance, and allowed his eyes to stray away from his

captor’s commanding gaze. He looked down at Melanie’s pump, which was slowly

sinking into the soft flesh of his abdomen, like a proud and beautiful warship

going down by the bow in a sea of flesh.

In some ways he was just as shocked by his own size as the students had been. He

had never been this large before; had never even thought of being this large.

The notion occurred to him, that if he could stand he would almost come up to

Dr. Burgess’s chest. But somehow, that didn’t make Melanie’s probing foot any

less menacing or any less beautiful.

Abruptly his attention came back to Melanie’s face. She spoke to him again, in a

voice whose sultry tone denied the severity of her words.

“Perhaps your brain is more damaged than I thought. Boy, I told you to tell me

about yourself. Where are you from, and how did you come to be living in the

sewers? Hurry now. Tell me quickly. If you can’t talk, then I’ll have to find

something else to do with you.”

Ronnie closed his eyes, as he found her penetrating gaze far more disconcerting

than either his abnormal size or the agony in his mid-section. Then he finally

began to tell his story.

“Ma’am I was decanted on a male farm not very many miles from here. They raised

worker males mostly. I wasn’t much different than any of the others in my batch,

except that the schoolwork seemed to come more easily to me. I was waiting with

all the other young men to be auctioned off, when a lady shows up from the Texas

Men’s Ranch. She bought me and 50 or so guys who were the best students, and the

next thing I knew, I was out in the desert studying to be a personal servant.”

“You must have felt pretty proud. TMR is about the best advanced training school

in the country.”

“Well, Ma’am, I didn’t have the time to think about it much. I’m sure you know,

Ma’am that personal servant training is tough, and there is a higher flunkout

rate than even the science and engineering ranches. And Miss Laura, she was the

one who purchased us, supervised all our classes personally. Out of all the

fellows that started with me, only 8 of us made it all the way through. Every

time we took an exam, the fellow with the lowest score was sent to Miss Laura

for disposition.”

“This Miss Laura, she got to squish them then.”

“Well some of them I suppose. She never did anything like that in front of us.

Once in a while she’d give a boy to one of her assistants. They were young, of

course, and I think it made them feel more secure somehow, that they could

shrink a man right down and crush him in front of the rest of us. But Miss Laura

never did anything like that. Nope, they just went to see Miss Laura in her

private chambers, and most were never seen again. I know she kept some of them.

She liked to use men as jewelry, and every once in a while we’d see one of us on

an earring or a bracelet. I had the same roommate for almost 3 years. We were

really close, but he got the low score on the computer science final, and he was

gone. Months later on graduation day, I looked down and there he was, Miss

Laura’s toe ring. He kind of nodded to me. He looked awfully happy. I figured at

the time that, other than having his hands sewn to his feet, he was about the

luckiest guy in the world.”

“Miss Laura sounds like quite a teacher.”

“Yes, Ma’am, she was, and a good saleslady too. That’s one time I really was

proud. We didn’t go to an auction house. Instead, women would fly in just to

inspect the new graduates and make a selection. When it was my turn, I would run

out and prostrate myself. And then Miss Laura would rest her foot on my head,

while she launched into this long speech about all the good things that I could

do, and how talented I was. Just thinking how much Miss thought of me, well I

just wanted to bust with happiness. Of course I knew a lot of it was a sales

pitch, and it worked too. Because only a few days later I was laying quietly in

my sleeping box, but I could hear that Miss Laura was talking to some ladies

about me. Suddenly I was rolling on the floor. I was flipped over on my back. I

looked up to see a beautiful Latin girl smiling down at me. She was holding the

size-changing gun. She expanded up to a meter, and stepped right up on me. Her

wonderful petite brown feet pressed into my chest, and I could hear her mother

to this day. “Now Rosita, don’t hurt it till we’re certain we can afford it.”

Melanie suddenly cut off his narrative. “That’s enough for now. Be quiet boy. I

have to check on my students. When I’m done I might want to hear some more.”

Suddenly Melanie stood. Ronnie opened his eyes, but at his place under the desk,

he could no longer see her face. His midsection was now freed from the crushing

pressure of her pump, but the sharp burning as blood rushed into the bruised,

compressed and oxygen deprived tissue of his gut, was for the moment, even more

miserable. As the agony subsided, he became aware of all the noise, as men

screamed and women giggled or tried to talk over the din. Then her foot surged

forward, and came to rest on Ronnie’s upper chest. The weight on him slowly

began to intensify. Melanie had not planned on stopping so soon. She felt

inexplicably angry. She pictured her old size 12 pump, the one that pressed into

Ronnie’s chest. It was not petite. Elegant perhaps, but definitely not petite.

Up above Melanie patiently surveyed the scene before her. Mona and Mary had

arranged the 4 men in a single line, making a long walkway of exposed stomachs,

chests and heads. Their arms were bound as Ronnie’s, but she noticed that her

enterprising assistants had found some additional restraints, and had tied the

shoulders of the one fellow to the spread ankles of the next. This left just

enough room between the head of number 1 and the groin of number 2 to allow the

students to step down on the solid floor before encountering the next bit of

squirming male anatomy. The students formed their own column by the feet of the

first man, and a succession of them were deliberately making their way down the

male roadway. Most of the young women were unsteady, looking like apprentice

tight-rope-walkers on their first trip without a net. Occasionally one of the

girls would lose her balance and come sliding off her man, then with a bit of

nervous laughter she would awkwardly jog to the end of the line. Mona was

getting into the spirit of the thing by shouting out a cadence for the girls to

keep in the same marching rhythm.

“ Tummy, chest, head, floor. Tummy, chest, head, floor. Tummy, chest, head

floor. C’mon girls, Keep up the pace.”

Melanie wasn’t certain how much technique was being learned, all in all;

everyone seemed to be having a fun time. Melanie had meant to tell them to quiet

it down, but the situation was so entertaining, that she decided to watch for a

few minutes. She had not forgotten the man under her desk, and as she leaned

forward on her desk, her foot pressed harder into Ronnie’s much-abused torso.

For the time being, she was content to watch the show and to experience Ronnie’s

chest slowly rise and fall under her foot.

The situation above was deteriorating. It was beginning to look more like a

sorority party than a serious learning experience. The women waiting in line

were clapping their hands in accompaniment of Mona’s cadence. Some had taken to

saluting the “Drill Sergeant” and calling out “Yes, Sir!” as they marched past

Mona on their way down the squealing male pathway. The men were not quite so

loud and were writhing far less as they come nearer to exhaustion. Still despite

the cacophony, Melanie noted that the trampling was going more smoothly; at

least none of the women were slipping off.

On the other side of the room she noticed three who were not participating. It

was the girl who had accidentally squished the male. Melanie recalled that her

name was Katy, or perhaps Caitlin. She sat, still apparently crying and upset

over what she had done. Her roommate, the tall willowy blonde, was holding her

hand and whispering encouragement. Mary sat close by, looking kind of

uncomfortable with this sympathy business. Melanie could tell that they were

trying to get Caitlin to join again in the class activity.

Melanie observed that all the rhythm and clapping had gotten to her as well. She

became aware that her foot had somehow slid down Ronnie’s trunk, and that she

was vigorously tapping her heel in time to the tempo of the clapping and of the

marching beat. She glanced under the desk and saw that her heel was falling

directly onto the man’s macerated scrotum. She had to suppress her own laughter

as she saw his eyes nearly popping out of his head. She had been ignoring her

boy too long. Yes, she thought, he was “her boy.” Melanie was already beginning

to think of him as more of a personal possession than a mere teaching aid. She

had not had such tender feelings in a long while. It felt kind of odd.

It grew suddenly very quiet in the room. Even the men stopped yelling. Melanie

looked up to see that the tramp over the gentlemen had stopped. Instead,

everyone had gathered around Caitlin who was making her way hesitantly to the

front of the line. She stepped forward, still daubing the moisture from her

tear-stained face, and smiled wanly at “Sergeant” Mona. She spoke in a soft,

almost childish voice.

‘Uh, I’m feeling better I think. Can I walk on them now, or is it too late?”

Mona gestured at the men. “Help yourself girl. They’re not busy, as you can

see.” Caitlin smiled more broadly, and approached man number 1. She paused to

look out over the now vacant passageway of men. They were certainly well used,

and the procession of red, black, and blue indentions in their battered flesh

left no doubt where she should place her shiny new pumps. She bent down and

actually seemed to be talking to the man beneath her.

“OK, here I come. Wish me luck?” And with that she crossed her fingers, then

tentatively stepped into his midsection. Every person in the room, including the

men, stared intensely at her. Only Ronnie, still suffering in silence under the

desk, was not aware as Caitlin began her slow trek.

Melanie was stuck by people’s reaction to this girl. There was indeed something

that seemed to radiate from her pretty round face. Was it shyness? Naiveté?

Kindness? Perhaps even innocence?

Whatever it was, it seemed to command sympathy from those around her. Even her

living carpet seemed eager to help her, as they confined their protests to the

occasional whimper or muffled sob as she trod upon them. Mary followed her

closely whispering instructions, with each step.

“Remember, sole first then anchor the heel. Let your weight settle into him

before the next step. Don’t rush!”

The nervous young woman almost slipped off of man number 2, but Mary reached out

her arm in the nick of time, and steadied her. Number 3 was fascinated with her,

and was so occupied in gawking, that he forgot to turn his face away. Caitlin

stepped right on his snout, and there was a very loud snap as she mashed the

ruined nose into his very surprised face The entire assemblage held their

breath, but Caitlin kept her balance, and continued on her way.

It looked like she was going to make it. Caitlin steadied herself on number 4’s

chest, and carefully moved for the final step onto his head. But, just at that

instant, number 4 heaved up, and the startled girl fell backwards, thrusting her

needle-sharp heel into his abdomen. He was impaled! Caitlin turned to see her

shoe buried in the man’s entrails, and reacted like any farm-girl who had

suddenly stepped into fresh manure. She jerked that foot up in disgust, and

pushed down with the other. The ribcage gave with another loud crack, and her

entire body seemed to drop several inches as her other heel penetrated his lung.

“Oh Damn!” Mary yelled out without thinking, “She’s killed another one!”

Suddenly panicking, Caitlyn attempted to leap off the man, and as her shoes were

trapped in the male-flesh beneath, fell with a resounding thud. She jerked her

feet out of her shoes and already sobbing, fled in complete humiliation to the

far corner of the room. The now predictable entourage of supportive young woman

followed.

Mona, who was standing close by, went to stand over Caitlin’s unintended victim.

She bent down to pull out the shoes, and extracted them with little effort. He

was still alive, but his breathing was already ragged from the punctured lung.

Blood oozed out of both holes, and also from his mouth, but did not run fast.

Mona decided he would last for a while. She rose and peered down at the pathetic

man who returned her stare with a look of total terror and desperation. After a

few moments she slowly took her own foot and rubbed the sole of the shoe back

and forth across the gaping wound on his chest. Mona started to lick her lips in

a leisurely way and then began to grin.

“Honey, I bet it’s real hard to breathe with that hole in your lung. But you

hold on now, because I think that you and I have a date at the end of the

class.” Then she noticed Professor Burgess gesturing to her, and with a

long-drawn-out sigh, and considerable reluctance, left her place above the man

and went to speak to her boss.

‘ You know, Professor, I was really kind of rooting for her to make it. Kind of

hard not to, I guess.”

“I know what you mean,” Melanie replied somewhat sadly, I sort of stamped my

foot when she fell, and I think the fellow under here passed out again. Is the

other one going to live?’

“Well, not for long, but he’ll make it to the end of the session.”

“The time is running late, so you’d better get the students back to business.

You’ve got time to demonstrate some heel-in-mouth technique, but if you don’t

speed it up, we’ll have to skip the testicle popping.”

‘Don’t worry, Doc,” Mona replied looking just a bit alarmed, “we can pick up the

pace. Besides, you could come out here and take over, and let me take care of

the fainter.”

“No Mona, he’s mine. I’m thinking I might even take him home with me.”

Mona tried to suppress a chuckle without much success. “Oh, I see. Well, I’m

sure you’ll have fun with him, if he can stay awake, that is. Uh, I was

wondering, since you will be busy here, and that guy out there… well, he’ll have

to be disposed of. So I was thinking maybe…”

“You want to do him. Won’t that make your sister jealous?”

“Maybe. She could live with it.”

“ Well,” Melanie said as she smiled innocently, “if I get done here, I’ll come

over and do the honors myself. I hate to see you girls do all the work.”

“Gee, boss. This kind of sounds like a gyp to me. You get to do all the fun

stuff. Mary and I should get something for our trouble.”

“I see. Now you’re worried about your sister. But you won’t be left out. You

both come over after class, and I’ll have something good for you.”

“Well, Ok, if that’s the way you want it. But I think that if you get to step on

him, then you clean up your own mess.” Without waiting for an answer, Mona

turned and headed back to the others.

Caitlin had finally stopped crying, and Mona noticed that both Mary and

Caitlin’s roommate were helping the poor girl put on her shoes. Mary was

certainly acting more sympathetic and caring than was normal for her. What was

that all about?

Melanie dropped into her desk chair, took a deep breath, and leaned forward to

check on Ronnie. He certainly was unconscious, She spent a couple of minutes

poking and prodding his flaccid form, before she was convinced that she had not

damaged him too badly. She was very frustrated with herself. She didn’t lose

control often, and never twice in one day.

She noticed that Ronnie’s hair was graying. That was rare. Women who had access

to modern medicine, never showed real signs of age, and men seldom lived long

enough to actually look old.

Ronnie showed no sign yet of awakening. Impulsively, Melanie slipped off her

shoes and began to rub her warm stocking soles around his chest and face,

roughly at first, but gradually more gently; until what she was doing appeared

more as if she were caressing him than spurning him. She ran her toes across the

deep lines in his face, and rubbed the tears from his puffy eyes. At last she

enveloped his nose in her toes and the sheer fabric of her stocking, filtering

all the air he breathed in and enriching it with the scent of her feet. After a

few moments, his eyes began to flutter, and open. At the same time, she was

amused to see his mangled penis also spring into new life. Melanie did not

begrudge men their erections. They had a tough life. A guy worked hard all his

life to please his owners, and about the best he could hope for was a quick exit

under some woman’s foot. There were worse ways to go. And Melanie could give a

fellow quite a send-off, even if her feet were not exactly petite. She moved her

feet back, and rested both of them in his stomach.

“My feet were cold,” she said, as Ronnie stared in awe at her soft unshod feet

and long wriggling toes. “Now you were telling me about Rosita…”

End chapter 3

Next--- Melanie disposes, Caitlin gets homework, Mona and Mary get new insoles

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