Ms. Booth's Halloween
by Mrthatoneidiotguy

It was halloween, and Brianna Booth was having a year as foul as a rotten pumpkin. After accidentally shrinking and purposefully squashing students attending her gym class, she was fired from high school and arrested by the authorities. Breaking out of jail with her newfound shrinking abilities, she picked up work as a babysitter for bratty kids that she despised with every fibre of her being. Ms. Booth flattened them just as she had done to her whiny students and stormed out of the job once their behavioral problems had been corrected.

Now, Breanna had re-acquired her job teaching gym class thanks to a very handy resume she always took with her. (Hint: it involves shrinking and her butt) Breanna "Convinced" the principal of a small school in Southern Indiana known as Pretty Oaks high School to allow her to replace the old gym teacher (Who had been flattened and shrank in some sort of horrible, "Steamrolling accident").

Breanna found that this new school was even worse than her old school. The difference was that, for once in her life, the kids she had to teach were absolutely fantastic. They listened to and obeyed her every command, worked their hardest to be as physically fit as possible, and never whined about whatever activity Ms. Booth had planned for them. They were all a teacher could ask for out of a student.

This time, it was the adults that made Ms. Booth want to kick a puppy. They were loud, rude, and obnoxious. They frequently chided and insulted her for being, "The new teacher" and loved to poke fun at her previous records of misdemeanors. They were unaware of the extent of Ms. Booth's violent history, however. They were only informed that she had taken, "Excessive corrective action" against students in the past.

Still, these teachers and the principal himself found incredibly creative ways to pick on Ms. Booth. They played horrible pranks on her, spread nasty rumors to her about the students, and even encouraged the staff of the school newspaper to write articles detailing Ms. Booth's nasty farting habit (A joke which was made up by the principal.)

Ms. Booth quickly tired of the routine, and soon she could no longer bear the anger and hatred that she had breeded for her piers within the school. For once in her life she was completely fine with the people she taught, and completely hated the people she taught with. It was at this point when Ms. Booth reached the boiling point and recalled her powers.

"That's right." She thought to herself, hearing her powerful and commanding voice ringing about her head with inspiration. "I'll just shrink them. I'll shrink them all. Give them the old tiny treatment, that's what I'll do."

She spent several weeks planning and carefully caluclating when, where, and how she would strike. She decided that the best opportunity would be to host a party at her house to thank the teachers for allowing her to join the staff at Pretty Oaks High. She would invite them over to dinner and have them seated in her dining room, where she would give them a feast. But, before the people would be able to dig into their feasts, she would use her mental abilities to will them into their tiny forms right before her very eyes.

Ms. Booth immediately fell in love with her new master plan. Only one blank was left unfilled; when would she carry out the punishment? She traced her fingers along the calendar posted on her classroom wall, finding that the next reasonable holiday to host such a dinner party would be on Holloween. "Perfect." Breanna thought to herself. "That will certainly be a frightening dinner party for them."

Now Ms. Booth sat alone at her dining table on Holloween, a grin spread across her face from cheek to cheek. It was rare when she smiled. Before her sat a table of plates adorned with spooky halloween decorations. Small, orange napkins with images of ghosts and goblins on them were placed in front of the dishes, which contained steak, candy corn, and special holloween cookies with pictures of witches on them.

Ms. Booth herself was dressed in her usual attire; grey athletic pants that tightly clung to her rather large bottom, a casual t-shirt, and a ponytail. Tonight, however, she had made some slight changes. Instead of her traditional athletic sneakers she had worn pointed heels with black and orange striped holloween stockings running down her leg, from her knees to her toes. She also powdered her face a little bit, to look fancy for her big night.

Ms. Booth waited for the guests to arrive, her ears perking up and waiting in palpable anticipation for the ringing of the doorbell. She pictured the night in her head, all of her guests shrinking in their chairs, a collective wail for help rising from their mouths. She saw herself standing up and proceding to promptly walk from chair to chair, sitting down on each one with a quick plop, a juicy "Splat" coming out from beneath her. She would continue on down the line of chairs, looping around until she reached the place where she originally sat, where she would relish in her accomplishment as she admired all of the flattened men and women laying across her furniture.

But then she reconsidered. She imagined her bed, a medium-sized piece of furniture by average standards, but a mountain to the small people trapped upon it. She saw her fit and athletic body falling onto the bed backwards, as if she were falling into a truck of pillows. In slow motion, the teachers and administrators that she hated so much pointed and screamed upwards as their fellow teacher's body descending towards them, the imminent splatting coming closer and closer with each passing second.

Ms. Booth began to reconsider again, another thought crossing her mind. What if she tried setting her guests down on top of a...

DING DONG!

The doorbell chimed throughout the house, its ordinary and plain sound resembling the booming and melodious jingles of a loud church bell to Ms. Booth's ears. She could almost heard, "Ode to Joy" playing in the back of her head as she opened the door to see all of her guests standing at her porch, a smile on their faces.

"Hey, B. What's up?" The principal asked as he stepped into the house before being invited in, failing to wipe his shoes on the mat as he did so. "I hope you didn't stink up the house too bad, we're really looking forward to eating. I hope your farting is under control tonight?"

The company of teachers laughed simeltaneously. "Yeah, like it's physically possible to eat her cooking!" the culinary arts teacher shouted to even more laughter. "I'll bet her gym teacher brain isn't able to comprehend it!"

"Hey Brianna." the science teacher said, a narcissistic smirk forming on her lip. "I'm surprised you can manage to use footwear that aren't tennis shoes. Looks like everything but your feet didn't get the memo, though. Haha!"

The crowd laughed as they poured into the house like a swarm of ants, bombarding Ms. Booth with their coats as if she were a coatrack. Not a single, "Thank you" escaped one of their lips.

Breanna acted like she was hanging the coats up, then proceeded to drop them on the floor and stomp on them once the party had entered the dining room.

Ms. Booth walked up to the dining table only to discover that the company had already began digging into their meals. They chomped loudly and made slurping and crunching sounds with their open mouths as they went about their eating. After a few sustained seconds of obnoxiously loud, open-mouthed chewing, the company all simeltaneously spit out their meals onto the clean table of Ms. Booth, as if it were synchronized. A symphony of remarks regarding the quality of the dinner arose at this time, not a single one of them positive. The culinary arts teacher once again emphasized her inability to cook, making sure to add, "I told you so!"

Despite the nearly unbearable insults that were already occuring, Ms. Booth remained calm and maintained her inner peace. She sat down upon her chair and began to eat her dinner with proper manners and good posture. She enjoyed her meal, making sure to finish her holloween cookie and devour every last piece of candy corn. While she did this, the rest of the company pointed out the minor flaws in her eating habits, despite the fact that they were all incredibly rude and obnoxious eaters.

Breanna stomached these remarks, patiently awaiting the moment when the insults and impoliteness would reach its climax, at which point she would begin the most fun phase of her master plan. That moment came when the principal farted loudly, a horrible and nauseating stench filling the room as he did so. He laughed gruffly before commenting, "Breanna did it."

The room burst into laughter. Ms. Booth stood up at this moment, slamming her fist down upon the table like a judge slams a gavel. The plates all bounced slightly into the air, a loud, "CLING!" noise being made. The room immediately fell silent, all eyes resting on the enraged teacher standing at the head of the table.

"Oh really, Mr. Principal?" Breanna commented, breathing heavily from her aggrivation and frustration. "Was it me that farted? I'm so sorry. I'm having a gas problem lately. But you do too. Gas of the mouth."

The table gasped at this mildly light insult, knowing that the principal had one heck of a temper.

The fat man sat in his chair, his face turning as red as a rose and steam flying out of his ears like a human teapot. "LISTEN HERE YOU... YOU... BREAT!" he shouted, his bristly mustache waving about as he spoke. "YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO YOUR EMPLOYER IN SUCH A WAY! WE HAVE DONE NOTHING TO DESERVE YOUR HATRED, AND YET YOU SPIT ON OUR GOOD WILL AND DESIRE TO HIRE YOU! BASED UPON THESE GROUNDS, I SHALL HEREBY FI..."

Before he could finish his sentence a loud, "Poof!" noise filled the room, an airy and misty subtance shrouding the house in mystery. Nothing could be seen at all. Through this creepy and spooky air, Breanna smiled. It was fun time.

The mist dissipated, clearing before the guests at the dinner table. The scenery was just like it had been before, though a certain change had made itself apparent. All of the guests were gone!

Well, actually, they were not gone. Rather, they had merely shrunk down to the size of mice. Their tiny bodies were scattered about the rooms of the house, as if a tornado had thrown them all around in random directions.

Breanna checked the chairs one by one, searching for the little people. She was a little distressed at first, as she had planned to find each individual guest on a chair. It looked like her job was going to be much more difficult. Out of all the chairs that she searched, only one happened to contain a teacher. It was the head honcho, the principal himself. She bent over on her knees, bringing her face eye-to-eye with the tiny man. His face now showed not anger, but fear.

"What... what has happened?! What's going on?! You have to help me, Breanna!"

Ms. Booth smiled. "You just told me you were going to fire me. What incentive do I have to help you?"

The principal dropped down to his knees, realising the gravity of his mistakes. "Please figure out what's wrong with me! I'll give you your job back! There, isn't that good enough?!"

"Not quite." Ms. Booth said, leaning in closer to the principal. "go on, make my day. What more can you offer me?"

"Are you... are you trying to bargain with me, young woman?!" The principal yelled, his face once again billowing with the rage it had showcased minutes ago. "I refuse to be bargained with! You will accept what you get and LIKE IT! No ifs, ands, or buts! You'll never change my mind. Never!"

Ms. Booth put her finger to her lip, as if she were thinking. "Hmmm... I think I can make you change your mind, Mr. Principal."

"Proposterous."

"No, not at all."

"How, then? How can you do what no man has ever done, and will never do again?"

"Well, let's look at our options. I've got a nice big chair right here, and the only thing preventing me from sitting down is a teensy weensy little brat of a man. Do you honestly think I'd notice such a thing, though? Or would I just sit down on the chair and not even see said teensy weensy little man?

"Wha... what are you saying?"

"I'm saying... teensy weensy little man go splat under Ms. Booth's big butt! Do you read me, pipsqueak?"

Once again, the principal's rage was converted to fear. This time, however, the principal began to shift between the two emotions at random, like an indecisive lotterry machine. He acted almost like he had schizophrenia.

"What?! That's crazy?! You're crazy, you cold hearted... I'm sorry, please don't hurt me! I'll do anything ANYTHING! Just DON'T TAKE AWAY MY MONEYYY!"

"Sorry, pal." Ms. Booth said, smiling as she did so. "I've already made up my mind. I made up my mind the minute the school newspaper told my students that I fart a lot. I'm going to squash you."

Ms. Booth stood up off her knees, turning her rear end towards the chair. She displayed the large booty in the tight athletic shorts towards the man, who was panicking as he searched for a way to get off of the chair. Ms. Booth then plopped down upon the cushion of the seat, feeling a very audible "CRUNCH!" accompanying the descent. Her butt rippled and jiggled about as it hit the seat, the little principal buried beneath a mountain of bum.

Ms. Booth crossed her legs and sat peacefully upon her principal. "I think I sat on something." She said. "Oh well. I'll just pretend it's not. even. there."

She accentuated the last 3 words of that sentence by raising her butt slightly off the chair and plopping it down again, each booty drop producing a juicy squishing sound and a loud grunt of pain from the principal below.

"Now what do I do when I'm sitting down again?" Ms. Booth said, asking herself the question aloud. "I seem to have forgotten. Oh, wait, that's right. Apparently, I fart."

"MMMMPH!" came the muffled apology from the principal beneath her. "MMMMPH!"

"Yeah, that's what I do! After all, the school newspaper and even the school's principal himself said it was true, so it must be! I guess I'll just let one rip riiight here."

"MMMMPH!"

The screams from beneath the butt went from muffled to unhearible when a loud fart erupted across the room. This made the principal scream even more for help, though the loudness of the fart prevented his calls for help from ever being heard.

Ms. Booth rubbed the stench in by squirming about to the left and to the right upon her chair, pressing the little man further and further into both the cusion of the seat and her bottom. She lifted her right buttcheek off the chair, sitting only on her left one. Upon this right buttcheek was plastered the flattened form of the man she hated so much. She observed him, his face pressed into the bottom comically.

"Sucks to be you." She said, as she pressed her right buttcheek back down onto the cushion for one last flourish. She bounced up and down lightly atop her captive before standing up.

The principal lay flat on the chair now, his body facing upward. "Ughhhhhh.... you.... youuu.... I hate you..." he said, gasping for air.

Ms. Booth disregarded his pathetic insults and decided to begin actively searching for the rest of her hated dinner guests. She found the next one on the carpet floor of the dining room, staring up at the gym teacher. It was the culinary arts teacher who had been insulting Breanna so much. She ran across the floor as fast as her legs could carry her, which, to a normally-sized woman like Breanna, was not very fast. She watched the proffesional cook begin to stumble towards the ground, out of breath and out of energy. She finally collapsed entirely, laying face up.

Ms. Booth peered down at the little teacher, her arms crossed. "If only you had eaten that healthy, nutritious meal. Then maybe you would have had the energy to escape. But nope, I guess not."

Ms. Booth lifted her pointed stiletto over the tiny cooking teacher, the bottom of her shoe in her toe area approaching the tiny woman so closely that she could see the pieces of dust clinging to the bottom of it.

The culinary arts teacher screamed at the top of her lungs as Ms. Booth pressed downwards, the shoe stepping upon the tiny teacher and pressing her into the carpet. Ms. Booth applied as much pressure as possible, the cries of the culinary arts teacher completely unhearable.

"Squelched. Like a little bug." Ms. Booth said, lifting her stiletto off of the tiny woman. "You get what you deserve."

Breanna lifted her foot high into the air, bringing it down upon the teacher one last time with an exagerrated stomp.

She grinded the opponent finely into the carpet before raising the tip of her shoe up, resting the weight on the back of her heel. This revealed the splattered and flat teacher on the bottom of the high heel.

"Gross. I got bug on my shoe." Breanna commented, as she took off her high heels. "I think I'll clean them later."

Ms. Booth took off both of her shoes off, revealing her orange and black striped stockings. It was in this fashion that she would search her house for the next victim. She walked from room to room in these socks, searching diligently for the teachers scattered about.

The art teacher stood on the floor, looking at the giant woman who crossed the room. He knew that he had to hid from her quickly, but did not know where. Frantically attempting to make up his mind, he eventually sprinted in a random direction for no particular reason. He ran in a serpentine pattern and hoped to escape Ms. Booth's line of vision. His hopes were answered.

Ms. Booth neither noticed nor felt the small man that was squashed underneath her foot that day. She just stepped on him, the sole of her stocking pressing his tiny figure upon the carpet. She never felt his face plastered on her festive Holloween socks, and she never noticed the squishy texture of the floor that was caused by his tiny body being compressed more and more with each step, his tiny figure plastered onto the bottom of the stocking. Instead, she just continued walking from room to room, searching for her next victim.

She found this next victim atop her bed, making a long pilgramage from the center of the piece of furniture to the very edges, where she would hope to climb down. It was none other than the science teacher who had insulted Ms. Booth's fashion sensibilities. Ms. Booth was excited.

"Oh, hello Deborah, how nice to see you!" Breanna smiled. "Glad to see I found another little friend. What happened to you guys?"

"I have no idea, Breanna." Deborah commented, a concerned look on her face. "One moment I was sitting at your dinner table and trying hard to stomach your crappy food and clothing choices, and the next I was here, on your tasteless and tacky bed. What are the odds?"

Feigning nice intentions, Ms. Booth smiled amiably. "I don't know, Deborah. Listen, I actually wanted to ask you some questions about my poor tastes. I want to improve. I want to be tasteful and mature with my sensibilities like you. Could you teach me how?"

Deborah blushed, seeming flattered. "Why yes, of course I could, Breanna. With a brain as small as yours that may not be easy, but I can certainly try. What might your first question be?"

Breanna bashfully put her hands behind her back. "Well, I kind of like to lay on my bed when I talk with my girlfrands. Would you mind?"

"No, Breanna, don't do tha..." the science teacher began to say, holding her hands up in protest. It was too late, however. The large shadow of Breanna's body had cast itself over the bed, and Breanna was about to lay down. All the science teacher could do was scream before she was smashed under Ms. Booth.

Ms. Booth laid down on the bed, the science teacher being crushed somewhere around her tummy area. Breanna didn't care, she just hummed a happy tune while fluttering her legs in the air like a teenage girl.

"Where did you go, Science teacher? I had so much to ask you."

There was no response. The science teacher was so squashed by Ms. Booth that she could not even speak. She was completely trapped under the teacher's tummy, and was being suffocated fast.

Ms. Booth rolled over onto her back to look up at the ceiling, pressing the science teacher out like a steamroller before coming to rest on top of her once again. She peered upwards at the posters on her ceiling, mostly old motivational posters that she had scrapped for her gym, as teachers were not allowed to hang posters in their rooms. The rule was mostly uninforced, except for Breanna, of course.

Ms. Booth rolled over restlessly one more, making sure to squash the art teacher under the girth of her breats. The pleasurable, "Squelch" that each miniscule movement provided was enough satisfaction to make Breanna happy for years at a time. The critic was getting a facefull of Breanna's fashion.

Finally, Ms. Booth tired of the art teacher and stood up off the bed. Like the others, she did not dispose of the flattened, but still living, teacher in any particular way. She simply left the body laying upon the bed, its flat tongue sticking comically out of its mouth. It appeared that it had just been rolled over by a steamroller.

Breanna trudged down the stairs, making sure to pick up a tiny English teacher off the banister of her stairwell. She plucked him inbetween her thumb and index finger and began to carry him through the air. He shouted and protested very loudly, kicking and screaming in an attempt to escape from Ms. Booth's grasp. She paid no attention to him, already planning in her head what she was going to do with the tiny twerp.

Breanna re-entered the room with her high heels in them and sat down on the couch in front of the high heels, unknowingly smashing a little algebra instuctor beneath her undulating buttcheeks. She took the tiny English teacher and set him down in her left high heel, grinning devilishly as she did so. She took a moment to peel the tortured little art teacher off the bottom of her sock and discard him, and she did the same with the little cooking teacher stain on her shoe.

The English teacher stared up from within the shoe at Breanna. "It smells horrible in here! What are you going to do to me?!"

"Oh, not much." Breanna said, displaying her foot before the man. "If I were to set my foot into the shoe right now, what do you think would happen?"

"Are you crazy?! You'd smash me!"

"I know that." Breanna said, wriggling her toes playfully. "But how do you think you'd react? Would you run to the tip of my shoe and get smashed against a wall by my toes, would you try to climb out of the top and get pressed out under my heel, or do you think you'd cower in fear and get squashed by my sole?"

"How am I supposed to know?!"

"Okay, so maybe that question is a little weird. How about this one. When you squish, do you think your body supports as much weight as it possibly can and collapses simeltaneously, slowly compresses downward like a deflating balloon, or goes splat into a puddle of living mush?"

"You're sick!"

"Not going to answer my questions, eh? Well, then I suppose I'm going to have to do a little experiment for myself and find out. Don't worry, it's for the good of science, I'm sure you can appreciate that."

"But... but... I'm an English teacher!" the man cried out.

Ms. Booth slid her stockinged foot into the shoe, discovering the answers to her questions right away. The man was caught off guard and fell over backwards, being smashed face-first into the sole of her foot. He squished like a combination of the three options Ms. Booth had provided for him. He started off squishing very slowly like a deflating balloon, then collapsed all at once under the weight of her foot into a puddle of living mush.

Ms. Booth couldn't help but moan at the euphoric pleasure of squishing the little man inside her shoe. She slide the other shoe on and began to walk about the house, once again resuming her search for little victims.

Ms. Booth had become confident that she had finally disposed of all of the little pests when the doorbell rang once again, another sweet treat approaching Ms. Booth. She smiled as she answered.

It was none other than the school super intendant, who had a dry grin on his face. "Hey, I heard there was a crappy party going on here. I just came to look for reasons to fire you, I honestly don't see what the school board saw in hiring you."

Ms. Booth smiled. "Oh, you want a reason to fire me? I'll give you a reason to fire me."

The next day at school, all of the students had gathered in the gymnasium for their PE class. Ms. Booth sat in a rigid metal chair at the far end of the gym, beaming with satisfaction.

"Hello there, students." she spoke to the children gathered around her. "Today, we're simply going to be playing dodgeball. You know the rules, you can all just grab your balls and divide yourselves into teams. I don't even need to tell you how to do this, just start playing!"

The children were puzzled by this. Normally Ms. Booth would stand up from her chair to gather the dodgeballs and assign teams, but today she seemed completely reluctant to remove herself from it. The wondered why Ms. Booth would not stand up. They were totally unaware of the muffled, "MMMPHS!" coming from underneath her bottom.

Ms. Booth lifted her butt up for just a second when no one was looking.

"Please, I beg of you..." the principal began.

"NOPE!" shouted Ms. Booth, bringing her butt down upon the chair with a squishy plop. "You're not getting out for a loong while."

Happy Holloween!