Mac And The Little People Ch 04

The trap in Mac's hand was like no other that Fifi had seen before. His entire hand was a blur of black and white static. It hissed and sparkled like an old TV tuned to a channel with no station. Little whips of static reached toward her.

"Go away!" She shrieked and retreated to the end of the counter closest to the oven.

"I thought you wanted your hair brushed," said Mac. There was no malice in his voice, but that was little comfort.

"Not with that!" Fifi flung a frying pan at his face. It fell to the floor nowhere near Mac and bounced away like the world's worst frizbee.

"Whats wrong?" Mac was either genuinely confused or was a good actor.

"Drop it!" shouted Fifi. She wielded a meat tenderizer like a war-hammer.

"OK, putting down the hairbrush now." he said. Mac knelt down and placed the hairbrush on the floor. He slowly rose again with palms facing Fifi.

The static faded away until the only indication of the trap was a faint hiss. The aura around Mac's hand flickered and faded to its normal faint orange. Fifi lowered the tenderizer.

"I thought you were going to trap me," said Fifi.

"With a hairbrush? You went nuts just then."

"Is not only hairbrush. Is the strongest trap I ever saw."

"How is that a trap?" asked Mac.

"Bad makers use to trap people. Make them change and not let them out." Fifi knew enough about traps to stay away from them.

"Slow down. What exactly is a bad maker, and how to they trap people with hair brushes?" said Mac.

"A bad maker is a maker who uses their magic to make traps to hurt people. When they catch them they put bad magic on them." Fifi explained.

"What is a maker?"

"You," said Fifi.

"So a human, then".

"No"

"A man?"

"No"

"Then what is a maker?" Mac looked confused. How could he be so stupid? He had to feel the magic when he held the trap. Fifi stomped, making the coiled burners in the stove top rattle.

"Do I have to explain it to potato?" Fifi asked, exasperated.

"Did you call me a potato?"

"You are potato! Under the ground and not know."

"Right. I don't know."

"Fine. I will teach you. First put the trap back where you got it." said Fifi

Mac reached down to pick up the brush.

"No touch!" screamed Fifi. Then in a volume more appropriate for inside, said "Use leather or wood to pick it up. It turns on when you touch it. Where is my apron? It is thick enough to work."

"I'll get it." Mac departed to the living room.

Fifi shivered. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her cold and wet. Though the sun was up, the room was still cold.

---

Mac couldn't find the apron. It was not beside the radio where he left it. It was also not under the couch or hung on the coat hook. He finally returned to the kitchen empty handed.

"Did you get your apron this morning? I left it by the radio."

"I saw it, but didn't get it."

"Its gone."

Fifi's apron couldn't be gone. It was not a magic invisible apron with built-in forget where you put it potion dispensers. It was just a basic leather work apron with five tool pockets and zero cup holders. It and the five gremlin made tools were the only six things in the world that Fifi could call her own. Fifi swung down on the oven door handle and ran into the living room.

"It has to be here." Fifi was worried.

Mac sat down on his cot and unzipped his sleeping bag, making sure the apron hadn't gotten in. Fifi looked one last time at the place where her apron had been. There was a short, thin line of dirt on the floor. It was like somebody had recently used a tiny dustpan.

"Look at this." Fifi pointed it out to Mac.

"Looks like our tiny housekeeper has been busy. Do you think she stole your apron?"

"If she stole it, she probably doesn't have it. Most brownies don't like gremlins. If she took it then she got rid of it fast" said Fifi.

"Then it is probably outside," reasoned Mac. "Also, why don't you get along?"

"Brownies are too fussy and old fashioned. They like to pretend they are the bosses of human houses and make the other people do what they say."

"She was a bit bossy with me when I talked to her last night. Now that I think of it, she was eager to get your things out of the house," said Mac.

---

Mac stood at the porch railing and looked out into the overgrown front lawn. It was on its way to becoming forest. Blackberry bushes and cedar trees were slowly taking over the grass. Pine saplings and bushy oaks poked up through the thorns. If the wooden brownie had any malice she could have thrown each tool into the grass separately and left Mac and Fifinella to search all week.

The gremlin could search the underbrush well enough, but Mac would crash through, burying everything under stomped grass and broken thorns. Fifinella climbed the baluster and stood beside his hand.

"This might be a lost cause. I can look through my tool box and see if there are a few that are small enough for you to use," said Mac.

"No factory tools. I want my real tools!"

If the rest of Fifi's tools were as shabby as the little screwdriver then they must be more than tools to her.

"Are they special tools?"

"Very special. Gremlin made and my daddy gave them to me," said Fifinella.

"I guess it would be impossible to find replacements around here, then." said Mac.

"Don't know. If there are elves and brownies here then there might be gremlins in the closest town."

"Any particular reason? I would think relations are a bit strained." Mac asked.

"The elves are picky about their forests and the brownies are picky about houses. But they need a gremlin every time for machines."

"Will the elves be picky about this field?"

"No, they stay in the big tree forests. There might be a few rubettes here."

"Ru-whats?" Mac asked.

"Not what, who. They are nymphs who live in blackberries. They sell sweet fruit, but hurt you to pay for it. You won't be able to see them though."

"Why is that?"

"They don't come out around humans," Said Fifi. That was enough information for Mac. Three different kinds of short people were enough to deal with.

"I guess we should get started," said Mac. He let go of the handrail.

"First take off your shirt" said Fifi.

"Why?"

"Want to ride, but not on cloth."

---

Fifi watched as Mac took off his shirt. She remembered how fit he was his first night back from his disappearance. Unfortunately, he was not as well cut as Fifi imagined. His abs were barely defined under fat, and his body had a tired look to it. He was still solid though.

She climbed up and straddled his well developed shoulder muscle. The firm male flesh felt strong against her soft, plump cunt. She instinctively started to grind her crotch against him, but stopped herself. As much as she wanted to mark him as her conquest she didn't know how he would react. Instead, she gripped Mac with her legs and rested her forearms on his head.

---

Mac descended the steps from the porch to the lawn and started down the dirt path to the driveway. His beat up truck rested under a thin layer of pollen. It seemed to regard him the way an old horse regards a cowboy. It would take him for a drive if it must, but was perfectly happy to rest in the sunshine and wait for its next scheduled oil change. If the brownie housekeeper wanted them gone it was possible that she threw the bundled up apron into the back of his truck. When he looked in, there was nothing but a stain of light colored dust on the black bed liner.

He continued along the gravel drive, looking for some evidence that a tiny wooden person had walked there recently. As he walked he began to notice a faint scent, a little bit sweet, a little bit spicy. It was not quite cinnamon, not quite turmeric, not quite cumin. He had smelled it before, but couldn't identify what or when. Some type of spice that he couldn't recognize was growing somewhere nearby, but out of sight. Trying to locate it was useless. The smell was not stronger in any direction.

"Look!" said Fifi, pointing into the grass. Mac looked and didn't see anything. There was a rustle of some small creature darting away.

"Bring it back!" Fifi shouted. "Did you see it?"

"No," said Mac.

"You can't see it?"

"I heard something, but didn't see anything," said Mac. Fifi shifted around so she had a leg over each one of Mac's shoulders. Her cunt was hot and damp on the back of his neck. She put her hands on his temples.

"See how I see."

There was suddenly more color added onto Mac's vision. There was a deep red in the sunlight that highlighted the tree trunks and the gravel. He looked down at his hands and saw they were haloed in a similar glow, but orange.

"What did you do?"

"I made it so you could see the magic," said Fifinella.

"Do people have this orange stuff?" he asked.

"Not all. Only makers," said Fifinella.

Then their eyes were drawn to movement in the field. A tiny greenish light shone through the grass, as if whatever was rustling was carrying a glow stick.

"There is a rabbit carrying one of my tools around," said Fifi

"How do we get it back? scare it?" Mac had already adjusted to the new vision. The green glow moved around in the thorn infested field, stopping periodically.

"No. rabbits are shy, but they also like games. They are playing some variation of keep away. We either have to play the game or come up with a better one."

"Will they let us play?"

"Not you. You are too big and loud and scary. They might let me play. Put me down," said Fifi. Mac knelt down, allowing Fifi to dismount. She searched the side of the drive for a moment and selected a small dry stick. Then she ventured into the grass using one of the many rabbit trails.

---

Going into the overgrown field was disorienting after seeing it from above. The green glow was totally invisible to Fifi trough the thick growth. She walked along the rabbit trail, winding through the field. At every fork she scratched an arrow in the dirt pointing to the direction she came from. After traveling to what she thought was the middle of the area where her tool was, she stopped.

Fifi listened intently for movement. There was a rustle nearby. Fifi waited for it to stop, then snapped the end off the stick. The rustle retreated, then stopped. She snapped another short length off the end of the stick. The rustle approached again. Then a furry face peeked out from behind a stand of blackberry canes.

Fifi and the rabbit woman considered each other for several seconds. Then Fifi turned in a slow circle. She hoped it was slow enough for the rabbits here. She was familiar with suburban rabbits who were less formal.

Fifi completed the circle and faced the rabbit. The creature emerged from hiding and turned in a circle similar to Fifi, but kept her big brown eyes on her. The rabbit was shorter than Fifi and covered in brownish fur on her back and limbs. The fur on her chest was white. Her leg muscles rippled under her fur as she moved. Fifi had no desire to get kicked by those legs. The two approached each other cautiously. They finally stopped nose to nose. So far so good. Then the rabbit woman whispered into Fifi's ear.

"Please go away. Both you and the human. Your smell is scary."

"Please tell more." Fifi whispered back. It was a polite way to ask for more information.

"You smell like the scary human and scary house. You please go away." said the rabbit woman.

"I will leave as soon as I get my tool," said Fifi.

"A thing was given to us to not give to you." said the rabbit.

"By who?"

"Not supposed to say. Nobody wants to play with you. Please go now," whispered the rabbit woman forcefully.

"Please I go now," said Fifi. This was the polite way to say she was leaving. She backed away slowly. The Rabbit woman hurried around the curve of the path and out of sight.

Fifi traced her steps back toward the drive. She didn't think she smelled scary at all. Fifi wiped a finger along her inner thigh and smelled it. The place where she had straddled Mac's neck had a masculine smell that made her feel safe. But maybe the shy rabbits thought strong and scary were the same. If they wouldn't let her play that made getting her tool back nearly impossible. She emerged from the field and found Mac where she left him. He stood at the edge of the drive looking intently out into the field.

"What happened?" he asked.

"They don't want me to play" said Fifi. Saying it out loud made her eyes water. She had never been refused a game with rabbits since she had learned the rabbit rules.

"Why is that?" He knelt down.

"They say I smell scary, like the house. And like you."

"That makes sense. Rabbits are afraid of people."

"But now I'll never get my tool back." Fifi wiped a tear away with the back of her hand.

"You will get it back. I'll think of something." Mac put out his hand to help Fifi mount his shoulder, but she backed away.

"I need to not smell like you," she said. But she wanted to smell like him. She wanted his sweat on her, especially the musky sex sweat that glowed orange with magic. She wouldn't shower him off like the human woman did.

---

Mac Stood up to continue the search. His enhanced vision had slowly worn off during the time Fifi was in the underbrush. He could no longer see the green glow of the tool even though he could hear a rabbit rustle the underbrush from time to time.

As they continued down the drive Mac was less sure they would find the other tools. Fifinella didn't appear to be looking. Instead she inched along, poking a pebble with a stick. He could comfort her, or not. He had just as much chance of making her feel worse as better if human women were anything like gremlin women. He finally decided he didn't really have anything to lose. She lived in his boombox so if he failed he could just try again.

"Fifinella." He dropped to a knee to get close enough to talk to her. She turned away from him.

"No look," She choked.

"You look like you need a hug."

"No hug" said Fifi. Mac hesitated. She rebuffed him, but she obviously needed comfort.

"Fifinella, look at me."