Mac and the Little People

Tia held Fifi against her chest and tried to time her snips with the movement of those damned little black dots. She snipped the end of another tangle and a dot with it. The dot winked out of existence with a hiss like a water droplet on a hot stove top.

"She's sending somebody," said Cuttystool.

"What do you mean?" asked Tia.

"The queen. She is sending somebody to kill you two," said Cuttystool.

"Why kill us?"

"To break Mac."

Tia looked at the gaping hole in the back wall. Anyone could find them on the kitchen floor. She needed to hide somewhere more defensible. Branches from the rosebush reached across the opening. Maybe Rose could help. But would she? The nymph had been set free the day before and might not be willing to make herself a target.

Maybe Tia could take Fifi and retreat to another room. Tia looked around. A cracked door off the kitchen looked promising. She left Fifi on the floor and pushed it open. The rich furnishings of the great aunt's room stood in sharp contrast to the sparse Appalachian style of the rest of the house. That cloth and lace filled trap room was no place for Fifi. Instead she dragged the gremlin to the back door.

Fifi looked no better in the sunshine. She actually looked a little less green, like a wilted leaf. Damn that hairbrush. Then Tia realized she left the hairbrush in the kitchen with the brownie. Tia picked up Fifi's discarded apron and returned to the kitchen table.

"Dunmarfor is coming," said Cuttystool.

Tia remembered him. He was a bit on the small side, and generally kept out of sight. He dressed in squirrel skins like the rest of them, but had a macrame cloak that he made himself out of yarn. He used it to capture the queen's enemies. Dunmarfor was a bit shy before the queen took over, but since he got his new name and new eyes he seldom showed himself in camp, and then he never spoke. He was more dangerous than Drochide.

Tia had to move fast to avoid him. She picked up the brush with the apron and rolled it into a bundle. Then she ran back out to the steps. Behind her, Cuttystool began humming some tuneless, nonsensical song.

"Rose!" she called into the rose bush. A few moments later the nymph stepped out of a gap in the branches.

"Need me, sweetness?" she asked. Rose's eyes sparkled, but when she saw Fifi's condition her smile faded. "The poor thing has been trapped. Wheres Mac?"

"He went to visit the King's grave."

"That's too bad. I was missing him."

"Actually, I was hoping you could help us."

"I can't do much with traps, sweetness. I prefer willing guests."

"Will you help us hide? The queen sent somebody to kill us."

"Says who?"

"Cuttystool."

"Why would she say that? She works for the queen," said Rose.

"Shes...conflicted," said Tia.

"She's been in bondage to the queen since her little girl was trapped. Why the sudden- What did Mac do to her?" asked Rose.

"He just kissed her," said Tia.

Rose bit her lip. "That man can wrap a girl around his tongue," she said.

"I know. I taught him," said Tia.

"I'm glad you remember him. I was worried you wouldn't."

"That clue helped. Anyway, I need to hide," said Tia.

"I can't take you both in, not if somebody is determined to kill you."

"Actually I need a place for three."

"Who's the fourth wheel on your little love wagon?" asked Rose.

"Cuttystool," said Tia.

"As long as the queen has a hold on her she can find her. It's better to leave her be. The queen won't have her favorite servant killed. I think you two can hide under the house."

"There's no way under. They put bricks around back when John was the human," said Tia.

"The foundation vent behind my bush is loose. You can hide in there."

"Will you help me carry Fifi?"

"Once you get her down the steps. It's against my sensibilities to walk on murder victims," said Rose, pointing to the boards.

Tia struggled, but managed to get Fifi to the bottom step without dropping her. The fat little gremlin weighed as much as Tia even though she was significantly shorter. All that weight must be in her hips, thought Tia.

Rose helped her move Fifi through the thorns at the edge of the house, then in through the rectangular hole in the brick foundation. The vent had fallen off some years ago and sat rusting in the flower bed.

"One more thing, did you ever figure out what you wanted me to call you?" asked Rose.

"Tia."

"Well then, sweet Tia, now I want one of your kisses, the kind you taught Mac to do," said Rose.

"It doesn't work between women. You need a male. It needs a woman to desire getting filled up and the male desire to fill her," said Tia.

"I know we didn't make a deal, but could you do me a favor and point a suitably lonely or heartbroken man my direction? I'm starved for affection."

"If I ever see one. They are all like Drochide now."

Rose's smile disappeared. "That hussy is going to be the death of me."

"Don't be so dramatic. I have survived without a man for longer than you have been trapped," said Tia.

"I can no more live without a man's attention than you can live without moonlight," said Rose.

Tia understood. She had lived by the moon for as long as she could remember. The darkened new moon always made her feel less energetic than usual. "What about women? There are plenty who would be glad of your attention," asked Tia.

"In dire need I can enjoy the company of a woman, but a bowl of broth is no substitute for a nice hunk of meat, if I may be so uncouth," said Rose.

"When Mac comes back, will you tell him where we are?" asked Tia.

"I already anticipate his arrival," said Rose. She placed the vent back in the brick hole and concealed it with rosebush foliage. Tia was plunged into shadow. She looked through the vent, but couldn't see anything except rosebush leaves.

She laid in the dusty crawlspace holding Fifi. Within a minute the gritty clay soil irritated her enough that she unrolled the leather apron and let the hairbrush fall out into the dirt. She spread it out and rolled Fifi onto it. Tia laid down beside her. She tried to get comfortable but the little black motes of Fifi's trap kept poking her with their icy touch.

Tia scooted away from Fifi, but that was no escape. She finally arose and saw why. A shaft of light revealed that they were swarming on the leather apron as well as on Fifi. No doubt the little gremlin had saturated it with her sweat, which the simple magic of the trap treated as part of her. Tia pulled Fifi off the apron. The little dark motes that were left on the leather continued their random swarming, but soon they fizzled out of existence one by one.

Tia was delighted and inspired. She placed the leather apron over Fifi like a blanket. More of the evil little things swarmed onto the gremlin-infused leather as if it was part of Fifi's body. Tia then pulled off the apron and watched as they vanished like embers in a dying campfire.

---

Rose left the shade and shelter of her bush and set off across the field toward the little tree covered knoll halfway up the valley. The route had shifted some in the last twenty years. It was no longer an orderly horse trail fit for a king. It was now a winding path more suitable for people who didn't want to be seen.

She absentmindedly twisted a lock of silver hair around one finger, daydreaming about Mac. He was so big and strong, with that magic tongue. Maybe he had a magic cock to go with it. Not that Rose needed a magic cock. A regular one would do fine, even better if she could kiss him at the same time. The thought of him inside her at both ends made her wet. He would sweep her up with those strong hands and hold her to his sweaty chest before impaling her on his throbbing member and filling her with his hot human goo.

"Stand fast, nymph!"

Rose was shaken out of her daydream by a commanding voice. A diamond woman slightly shorter than Rose stepped onto the path, followed by a short, disheveled gray skinned boulder of a woman who was holding a sock with something in it. Rose had never seen such a beautiful woman before, but something in the confident sway of the diamond's hips and the assertive posture reminded her of somebody she knew once.

"Sigra?" Rose asked. The diamond looked at her more closely.

"Rose? What happened to you?" said the diamond woman.

"I was trapped away for twenty years. What happened to you?"

"I went deeper than anyone else dared, and came back indestructible," said Sigra.

Rose stepped forward to embrace the diamond but Sigra stopped her with a hand on her belly. "I'm a queen now. I can't get familiar. Not even with you," she said with the slightest hint of sadness.

Rose stepped back. She could sense Sigra's loneliness. Even though Rose couldn't fill the diamond's desires, she needed to take away Sigra's pain and replace it with happiness. Rose hoped Gniff would be less standoffish. The fat little gnome looked absolutely miserable. She felt even worse. Her misery hung around her spirit like a damp, moldy shadow. Rose's heart ached for her. Gniff had never recovered from Seamus' death.

"Gniff, sweetie. Surely you will share a hug with your old playmate?" asked Rose. In response the much shorter Gniff hugged Rose around her thighs and buried her face in Rose's crotch. Rose ran her fingers through Gniff's greasy hair.

"I take it her love life hasn't improved?" Rose asked Sigra.

"No. Not that its any of my business," said the diamond.

"And it looks like you could use-" Rose began

"That's none of your business" interrupted Sigra. "Speaking of business, what errand have you this far from the house?"

"Just going up to visit Seamus' grave. And your business this far from gnome lands?"

"Recruiting. Now why would you lie to me about where you are going? Sigra asked suspiciously.

"Pardon?"

"The trail to Seamus' grave was a right turn at the lumpy cedar tree."

"Oh, I must have been distracted," said Rose.

"Indeed. We will escort you back and point you in the right direction," said Sigra. She took Rose by the wrist and they walked back up the trail with Gniff trailing behind.

---

Mac climbed the round hill using a trail meant for much shorter people. He stooped to avoid branches at first, then switched to crawling on his hands and knees. Soon the hill leveled out and he came to a clearing. The yellowing tops of daffodil foliage dominated the clearing, except for a pile of white stones in the center. A grave marker leaned from its original upright position beside it. Mac got to his feet and approached the grave. The mossy face of the gave stone obscured all but part of a letter S, which was stained with the blue green of copper. That was the most likely place to look for the memory. He dug through years of settled grime on top of the stone and found a small disk that had probably been a penny at one time.

Mac rubbed the mold off and waited for something to happen. Maybe a vision, maybe he would simply remember. Instead, the penny crumbled into dust in his hand and blew away in a chill wind. Mac shivered and turned toward the wind. Rain clouds were moving across the valley from the west. When they climbed up the mountain to his level he would get rain.

"Why so sad, stud?" said a female voice. Mac turned toward the voice. A slender green woman standing four feet tall stood at the entrance to the clearing. Her figure reminded Mac of Rose, but the fishnet gloves and stockings suggested that maybe her interests were more intense.

"I can be sad at a grave, right?" said Mac, trying to figure out the woman's intentions. She approached Mac, stopping on the opposite side of the small pile of quartz rocks.

"Which one of these stones did you place?" she asked.

"None of them," said Mac.

"I see," said the woman.

"See what?"

"Never mind," said the little green woman. She stepped around the pile. As she came closer Mac got the feeling that this little woman would like to have sex with him. She stopped within arms reach and ran her fingernails gently over his bare torso. Mac suddenly felt uneasy. Even though Tia had told him he was in demand and to expect such treatment, Mac was mistrustful of this woman. "Are you going to kneel down so I can kiss you or not?" she asked. Mac tried to stall for time.

"I don't know your name yet," he stammered.

"I'll answer to whatever you call me, but I'm sure to cum if you call me Fizzy," she said. The sex pun was a bit crude, but it reminded him of Rose.

"So you are a nymph?" Mac asked.

"Yes. And you are a human. Your name is Mac. You like booze, self pity, and sweet green skinned girls like me," said Fizzy. She rubbed her face against Mac and he felt a little tingle run down his torso.

"Sweet green girls exactly like you," Mac replied, feeling stupid and horny as he dropped to his knees.

"And you are going to like what I'm going to do to you," Fizzy continued. She lifted a leg and wrapped it around Mac's body. He could feel her crotch against him. The heat of her pussy and inner thigh made his cock ache. Or maybe the pain was from being bent at an odd angle inside his pants. His hands went to his fly. Fizzy caught his hands. "No, stud. That's my job."

Mac looked into Fizzy's green eyes. She wanted him. Or did he want her? It didn't matter. He moved in for a kiss, but Fizzy leaned back, still holding his hands. Her crotch pressed into Mac's stomach.

"I want a kiss," Mac said.

"Not quite yet. Just concentrate on these for a little while," said Fizzy. She rubbed her hard dark green nipples against Mac's chest. He cupped a small green breast in each hand and gently squeezed her nipples. A drop of clear fluid appeared on each. It smelled sweet. Mac grabbed the little woman around the waist and lifted her. With her breasts at mouth level the scent invited him to have a taste. Fizzy's fingers ran through his hair and gently scratched the back of his head. The nymph's feminine scent drove the suspicion from his mind. He didn't need to guard himself, he just needed a taste of her nectar. Mac touched his tongue to one of the droplets, then the other. They were overpoweringly sweet, like honeysuckle nectar magnified. Then the edges of his vision blurred and the sounds of the wind, birds, and distant thunder were muted as if he was underwater. Fizzy remained just as real as before. Her warm wetness seeping down his belly, her arousing scent, her sweet voice, and her little green hands on him were the only things in the world.

---

Fizzy almost lost her resolve and let Mac's lips touch hers. It looked like Rose was right. Up close Mac was well muscled, and the big gullible oaf had gone down easy. Good kisser was an understatement. The queen had told her what happened to Cuttystool. One touch of Mac's big sloppy human lips had temporarily pulled the brownie's mind away from the queen's control. Fizzy didn't know what would happen to her. She definitely didn't want to be seduced by a male. It was perverse. She was a free agent and liked it that way. As long as she dealt with any interlopers from outside the refuge she kept her freedom and her own eyes.

She guided smilax rhizomes underfoot, just beneath the surface of the soil. Tubers grew at intervals, each with a sucker ready to spring into action. Fizzy guided Mac's hands to her breasts to distract him while her own attention was on making sure the vines were ready. His tongue on her nipples shocked her, but only for a second. Mac's eyes unfocused and a stupid intoxicated smile spread over his face.

"That's a good boy," said Fizzy. She ran her hands onto to his shoulders. "Now lay down."

She didn't wait for him to respond. Fizzy drove her fingernails into Mac's shoulders while smilax vines burst from the ground and wrapped around his body.

---

Tia let the apron warm up again with Fifi's body heat. There were far fewer evil black motes now. They swarmed like insects over her skin. Tia had figured out the trap that bound her was a sort of catch-all, good for the target and whatever the target was wearing. These were normally used for people who wore cloth. Cuttystool hadn't counted on Fifi owning a scrap of leather with so much of her sweat and dirt in it that the trap couldn't differentiate between target and leather until it was too late.

Unfortunately, the last dozen or so motes were giving her problems. At the current rate, a third of them were caught on the leather each time Tia lifted it from Fifi. When there were thousands of them progress seemed easy. Now with a dozen it seemed so slow. She lifted the apron. Five swarmed around the leather, then slowed when she laid it in the dirt. Soon they stopped and vanished. She brushed the dust off and spread the apron over Fifi.

Then Tia heard the squeak of a board somewhere above her. A voice spoke. It was soft enough that she couldn't make out the words, but it spoke forcefully enough that she thought she should listen. Tia crept through the dusty crawlspace to stand directly underneath where she thought the kitchen table was.

"So you don't know, or you won't tell me?" said an unfamiliar voice. The slight accent might be elvish. It might be Dunmarfor. Tia tried to remember the last time she heard him speak. She couldn't.

"I donna knoow," said Cuttystool.

"Why? You have eyes and ears."

"Get me oota this stoopid tableclooth an all tell yoo why," said Cuttystool. There was a rustle, then a thump that must have been Cuttystool dropping to the floor.

---

Cuttystool hoped down from the table as soon as her ankles were freed. She picked up her apron and put it on. Dunmarfor tried to hand her the bonnet.

"Noot wearin' it," she said.

"You are," said Dunmarfor. She took the bonnet and stuck it in one of the pockets of her apron.

"You have stalled long enough. Tell me what you heard."

"Joos this," saidCuttystool, and began humming some tuneless nonsense.

"Quit stalling," said Dunmarfor.

"Thassa what I heard, an dinna see noothin'."

"Why did you not see anything?"

"I had my eyes shoot."

"You are deliberately making things difficult. I know you have the ability to tell the truth."

"Donna mean I use it for thoo."

Dunmarfor's mouth moved, but no sound came out. A few moments later a shrill scream came from the bedroom. Cuttystool pushed open the door and saw that the cloche was filled with black fog that swirled like a tornado. Small white hands pressed against the inside surface of the glass.

"What is the current location of the elf named Tais?" said Dunmarfor, but his voice was cracked and elderly.

Cuttystool didn't say anything.

"Answer!" he commanded and another scream came from the cloche. Cuttystool tried to run to the little table, but Dunmarfor was faster. He swept her feet from under her with a deft kick that sent her sprawling.

"Will answer, joos stoop hurting her," said Cuttystool.

"Stop hurting who?"

"Coll-. Co-. I donna knoow," Cuttystool stammered. She couldn't remember her daughter's name. It was on the tip of her tongue a moment before. "Thoo took it."

"Let that remind you that you are furniture, Like a little stool for my feet. You wait where I put you and do as you are told," said Dunmarfor in that cracking voice.

"Yes, mistress," Cuttystool choked.

"Where is Tais?" asked Dunmarfor in his own voice.

"Oonder the hoose," said Cuttystool.

"How do I get under there?"

"Donna knoow," she answered

Dunmarfor slapped her. The slap stung almost as hard as if she were flesh. "You will start knowing."

"Thassa noot hoow I knoow. Canna say hoow, Canna only say what is," Cuttystool explained, hoping it would prevent another slap.

"Then you will assist." Dunmarfor took the cloak off his shoulders and threw it over Cuttystool. Then he pulled a drawstring that wound its way through the pattern and the cloak closed on her like a net.