"Oh, you see it now, don't you?" Larissa throatily whispered. Her hot, spearmint-flavored breath steamed around Ted upon her finger-fenced hand. "You understand. It's a pretty good idea, right? Just in case you're too stupid and busy thinking about having sex with a foot or something, though, let me be clear: I'm going to sew you into the bottom of this stocking. Facing the bottom, so there's nowhere else for you to go. And then I'm going to put it on."

            Ted's jaw hung open. That was about what he estimated. Furtively, he gazed from one side to the other. Far away, so distant it might as well have been a neighboring island, he spied the closest table of four giant girls, all merrily gabbing together and tinkering with their own class projects. Would they even hear him, let alone look this way?

            "You probably wanna cry out, huh?" Larissa hissed. "You wanna try and get the attention of those girls over at the next table, right? Maybe you're thinking they'll want to help you. I don't know, maybe they actually do, but who cares? The question you should definitely ask yourself before you try screaming, though, is can you get their attention faster than I can drop you right back in my shoe and squish you flat? Because if you can't do that faster, well... then it's probably a pretty bad idea, isn't it, mister?"

            Tiffany, Kelsey, and Blair all waited with baited breath. Judging from their bug-eyed expressions, even they seemed intimidated by their leader.

            Ted hung his head. He remained silent.

            "Good little perv," Larissa cooed in a nigh-maternal tone. Sated for the time being, she lowered her hand to the table, but didn't pick up the needle and thread just yet. Instead, her opposite palm hung just above Ted, her fingertips revolving softly around one another. "By the way... no offense, but these clothes of yours are pretty heinous. And I don't just mean your uniform looked gross already, I mean it's seriously disgusting now from being down in my shoe. But hey, the clothes fit the person, right? Anyway, we're gonna have to lose these for my home econ project to work, so hold still and let me take them off, runt, or you're going back in the shoe forever again."

            Despondent, Ted went limp in the redhead's powerful hand. What other choice did he have? Like an inch-tall ragdoll, he laid meekly in her palm, while Larissa's fingernails pinched at his soiled Catholic uniform. It was so dense with her foot sweat, the fabric particles barely hung together anymore. She didn't cleanly remove it, but rather ripped the uniform into even tinier shreds, starting with the sleeves of his jacket and shirt, and ending with his pants. In just five quick rips, Larissa had stripped her prisoner down to his skivvies. She discarded these ruined flecks into the trash, then returned her hand over Ted.

            "Take them off," she whispered. "I'd do it, but I don't want to accidentally knock something off that you're going to need later. C'mon. Underwear off, like I'm sure you do in every sick dream you ever had about girls like us."

            Ted put his hand at his boxer waistline, but hesitated, even while knowing that was probable suicide. This was the last vestige of his privacy and, moreover, the last thing concealing his shame. Once it was revealed, there'd be no going back. He'd have no defense to use for his eventual release, if the girl got it into her mind that he enjoyed this. In many ways, taking off his final piece of clothing for Larissa was even more dehumanizing than the original shrinking.

            "Just do it," the redhead huffed. She was getting impatient, and her palm was growing clammier. "We can all tell you've got a thingy going on in there. Hurry up and show it to us, or I'll rip your undies and probably your funny little dick off, too, on accident. I'm counting now, okay? Five... four... three... two..."

            Surrendering once again, Ted took the plunge and dropped his boxers, which Larissa quickly collected and threw away too. Now fully naked in front of the wide-eyed popular quartet, which admittedly was occasionally not far off from his REM-cycle fantasies, the boy felt more used and degraded than ever. Why couldn't he have been born with a fetish that didn't drive him to such extremes? Why did it all have to go this way?

            Tiffany, Kelsey, and Blair savored an appropriate amount of giggling at Ted's naked expense before the teacher could get suspicious, though Larissa only smirked, all-business. As always, something was happening under the surface, playing chess three moves ahead. Her cool-tipped fingers returned for Ted and deposited him face-down on the hole in the stocking. As though it was tailor-made for this custom legwear, the shrunken boy's whole lower torso, including his crotch, midriff, and upper thighs, fitted snugly into the opening Larissa had cut. As she'd insinuated, however, this was merely step one.

            "See? Wasn't that so much easier when you listened to me?" Larissa whispered, though the question was rhetorical. She obviously didn't want Ted to lift his head to answer, once she had him positioned right where she wanted on the nylon nest. "By the way, you don't have to look so depressed about this, runt. This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it? To be able to touch me? Don't talk back, I know the answer already. I felt your teeny-tiny nub flicking off the whole day, you know. I'm not stupid like you are. Honestly, I have no idea how somebody could still be "into" something, no matter how much they like it, after what I've been doing to you today, and am still going to do to you. But, whatever. Your kink's not my problem, it's yours. Anyway, try to see how good this will be for you. After I'm done with you, and all the sin is out of you, you might even be turned into a normal boy, instead of a desperate creepy foot-loving weirdo. Now hold still, so I don't stab you on accident with this needle."

            For the next ten minutes, Ted laid on the spare nylon while Larissa did her work. He held his arms and legs outspread, right where the girl's needle prodded, for fear of jagged reprisal. It made his shoulders and hips sore, but there was no way Ted was testing her after that speech. Stitch by delicate stitch, the thread was looped through the stocking net, up and over the boy's limbs, and even his neck and the small of his back. Each time a new section was completed, Larissa's fingers cinched the thread tight around Ted: not enough to cut off circulation, but plenty to make it clear that he was going absolutely nowhere until she cut him free.

            When the job was completed, Ted was actually glad he was bound so tightly into the stocking, as it made it impossible to see his ridiculous self. Of course, Tiffany took many photos with the flash on, for safekeeping. Kelsey occasionally whispered sewing advice in Larissa's ear, while Blair even took a turn adding the final stitches. These threads were pulled even tighter than those completed by the diabolical ginger mastermind.