Connor was sitting outside the door, staring at the wall as he’d done after class the day before.  He’d watched for several minutes as the instructor raped the woman with the sharpened pencil before he found the strength to turn away.  Blood and guts spilled out as she was continuously violated.  In the end, the professor rammed the pencil from her vagina out of her neck, holding up the impaled woman for all to see.  He then walked over to the shrinkie who’d attempted to save her and laid her corpse in front of him.

        “Do me a favor and toss this in the trash after class.”

        There were no cheers or snide comments, just captivated stares.  From what Connor had seen, only he, Teodora, the would-be hero, and one other looked horrified.  There was amused silence after the impaling, the atmosphere of indifference to the tinie’s fate palpable. 

        He had quietly sobbed for the rest of the class.  Teodora had slipped a foot out of a pump and caressed his shoulder with her sweaty foot.  The smell was horrible and Connor almost puked, but he grabbed her big toe tightly and cried into it.  Teodora’s other foot resumed the caressing, eventually soaking his hair in her smell and sweat.  The smell was overpowering, he doubted that she had washed her feet for some time.  Her toes gripped his head tightly for a few seconds before releasing.  He wanted to push the odorous mass away, but his strength was no match.  Her feet continued to comfort/molest his body as he wallowed in sorrow.

        Connor sniffed, swearing he still smelt her scent on him even after several showers.  He shook his head, just one more day of this and he could go back to the machine shop, lose himself in his work, and forget about this messed up place. 

        Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blur of blue.  It was the balding man again.  The day before Connor had bumped into him a second time, his tears having obstructed his vision.  The man walked over and stopped in front of him.

        Connor was about to offer another apology when the man spoke, “You really shouldn’t trust that woman.”

        “Huh?” He said taken aback.

        “Your Latina friend, don’t trust her, she’s not like us.”

        Connor’s face reflected his confusion, so the stranger continued, “There’s something wrong with her mentally.  She tried freeing a shrinkie!  That woman thinks those things have emotions, who knows, she might even believe that they’re human!”

        Connor’s face contorted and his hands clenched tightly.

        “Whatever you do, don’t trust her.  Her kind don’t understand the proper order of things.  A place above for us, and a smaller one below for the insects.”

        The bald man’s expression was full of empathy, as Connor’s skin began reddening.  His anger choking any vocal response.  He just sat there, listening to the older man.  While he couldn’t speak, he knew if the man continued he would…

        The man’s look of concern grew as he went on, “Either her morality is skewed, or she’s mentally unstable, either way steer clear o…”

        Connor leapt from his seat swinging at the bald man.  In his mind he pictured his fist connecting with the other’s square jaw, his left then incapacitating a kidney before they tussled on the floor, Connor beating him senseless.  What actually happened was that the man moved aside, catching his attacker’s wrist and twisting it behind his back.  His other hand punched Connor’s right bicep decidedly before slamming his chest into the wall over the bench, knocking the wind out of him. 

        The defender put his mouth close to Connor’s ear and whispered, “My apologies, young man, I was just trying to offer you some helpful advice.”

        He patted Connor’s shoulder sympathetically before releasing him and walking down the long corridor.  Connor grunted and made his way back to the bench, rubbing his injured bicep.  He saw him turn a corner and couldn’t help but wonder how he could move and hit like that.  He thought about pursuing him, but he could guess how a second struggle would end.  He sat on the bench, rubbing his throbbing arm.

        After five minutes of reliving the experience, a familiar voice greeted him.

        “Mi amor!” Teodora exclaimed, having begun calling him that yesterday after giving him that foot snuggle.

        “Teodora!” He said, mostly happily, though his nose scrunched.

        He gazed at her long dark gray skirt and pink blouse, her stomach again bulging through, her fat thighs just visible, and her feet in matching pink flip flops.  She laid two tall bags beside her on the bench.

        Being polite he said, “Whoa, that’s a lovely outfit.”

        “But of course!” She put her hands to her hips and turned in what she thought would be a seductive manner, “Only the most attractive of woman dare wear this style!”

        Connor laughed at her bravado as she exhibited poses like a supermodel.  Though he wouldn’t say it, her performance killed any sexual desire he might have had.  Teodora reached out to him and made him do a short salsa with her before they collapsed onto their bench, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

        Her expression turned serious, “Are you doing alright?”

        “Yeah, it, it was bad yesterday, b, but I’m better now,” He lied.

        She gazed at him with her concerned, motherly, look, “Just one more day, mi amor, you know, if you need anything, I’m always here for you.”

        He just nodded and resumed his downcast expression.  Her arms reached out quickly, grabbing onto his shoulders.

        “I know!  I can help you with the sign in!”

        He looked at her warily, “The sign in’s not too hard, I…”

        Her fingers moved down, squeezing his biceps.  He winced.

        “Dios mio!  You’re hurt!  That pen is too heavy for you, look at what it’s done to your arm!”

        “I, It’s just a bit heavy,” He responded, not wanting to tell her how he really injured it.

        “NO!  You’ve been through so much, let me help you, please, I don’t want you hurting yourself, and I’ll make sure no one messes with you!  If they do, they’ll have to go through this!”

        She jutted her chest out, which resulted in her big gut sticking out even further than her breasts. 

        Connor laughed before musing her proposition over.  His bicep was killing him, and lifting that pen was going to be incredibly more difficult today.  Also Teodora was really kind, she could be trusted to help shrinkies, but there was an alarm bell ringing in the back of his mind.  He was going to decline again when he thought of the man in blue, the hell if he was going to do what he wanted.  His words were so offensive, so, so, so…  Familiar…  Connor shook off the thoughts of dread he felt.  He could, no, HE DID, trust Teodora.

        “Alright, alright, it would be nice to have a hand.”

        “Two!” She replied, turning her plump digits back and forth rapidly in front of his face.

        He chuckled politely at the bad pun.

        “Temp shrinkie sign up time!”

        “Come on, mi amor, let’s go!”