by A. J. Markam
That was when the cannon went off.
There was a POOM! and a flare of light down in the courtyard, and red and white fireworks exploded in the air next to me.
POW!
crackle crackle crackle
It would have been absolutely gorgeous if I hadn’t been right in the middle of it.
The sound nearly deafened me, and it freaked the reindeer the fuck out. He screeched and banked hard left.
Suddenly more cannons went off below.
POOM! POOM! POOM!
More red and white fireworks exploded all around me like phosphorescent candy cane explosions.
POW! POW! POW!
crackle crackle crackle crackle crackle
I was getting shot at by goddamn Christmas anti-aircraft guns.
Shit, shit, shit!
I flew the reindeer down lower over the compound, hoping to keep ‘under the radar.’
Suddenly the red bar over the reindeer’s head ran out. I didn’t notice until it was too late.
“RRRRAAAAAR!” it roared, and bucked hard.
I went flying – and not in a good way.
Instead I tumbled down 20 feet, hit some kind of a skylight – and crashed through the glass into the darkness below.
8
I woke up flat on my back, surrounded by broken glass and bits of wood, staring up at snow falling gently on my face.
FUCK that hurt…
My videogame stats revealed the extent of the damage: 50% of my hit points, gone.
Ow, ow, ow…
Thank God there was no blood in OtherWorld. All that glass from the skylight would have shredded me.
As it was, I just felt like a piece of meat somebody had tenderized with a sledgehammer.
I tried to move – and found I couldn’t.
A computer window appeared and let me know oh-so-helpfully what was glaringly obvious.
You have been stunned!
20 seconds until movement is restored!
Shit.
As I watched the computer window count down from 20, I started to hear high-pitched voices whispering all around me.
“What is it?”
“A human!”
“A male?”
“I think so!”
“Yay, oh YAY!”
What the fuck?
I tried to lift my head around to look, but couldn’t. So I moved my eyes.
I was in the warehouse building, although it looked more like a workshop out of some dystopian Steampunk Industrial Age. There were soot-covered rafters, heavy iron chains and pulley systems, roaring blast furnaces, and piles of scrap metal.
A dozen soot-smudged faces crowded around and looked down at me.
They were all women.
They were all ugly.
And they were all two feet tall.
I suddenly realized where I was with a silent groan.
The elves’ workshop.
Except these weren’t elves. They were gnomes.
In OtherWorld, gnomes were the smallest of the humanoid races. They also tended to be mechanical geniuses.
In fact, Alaria and I had faced down an ex-master of hers who had created giant robot war machines – and even a robotic sex doll! Then things had gotten really weird when –
…never mind. Long story.
Now the iron chains and blast furnaces and scrap metal made sense. The gnomes were probably creating some sort of mechanical devices.
And if they were Sinter Klaws’s prisoners, maybe I could free them! Maybe I could turn them to my side and get their help!
“Hey guys,” I croaked as I lay there helplessly. “I’m here to save you.”
Yeah, I know it was ridiculous.
Totally something Jack Burton would say, though.
The faces just all continued to stare down at me.
Damn they were homely. Female gnomes were usually passably cute, but these sure weren’t.
Buckteeth, squished faces, hairy warts, and beady eyes that were way too close together. Lots of faint mustaches, too, even though they were women. I could tell they were female because of the breasts beneath their dirty green jumpsuits. Most of them had longish tresses beneath their pointy green caps, though it looked like a blind person had cut their hair.
Well, the good news was that my Stunned debuff was wearing off. Ten more seconds and I could move. I would stand up, get some good intel, figure out what to do next –
“Bind him!” one of the gnomes suddenly squeaked in a helium voice.
What?!
“Bind him, bind him!” they all began to chant.
Iron chains flew through the air across me and clanked! on the wooden floor.
“HEY – wait!” I yelped. “What the hell are you doing?!”
I checked the computer window.
Five more seconds until I could move –
Meanwhile, spikes were being hammered into the wooden planks of the floor, clack clack clack!
Locks were looped through links in the chains, click!
And when the counter ran down and I wasn’t stunned anymore, I still couldn’t move.
My body was crisscrossed with chains like a slightly more realistic version of Gulliver and the Lilliputians.
“What the hell, guys?!” I barked, moving my head so I could see what they were doing.
They were all standing in a row next to me, silent.
Shit.
I’d obviously misjudged the situation.
They weren’t some poor little slaves in need of rescue.
They were going to hand me over to Sinter Klaws.
“Wait – DON’T tell your boss, okay?” I pleaded. “I can pay you – ”
“Hand him over to Sinter?” one of the female gnomes asked the apparent leader.
“Hand him over?” all the gnomes asked in growing chorus.
“Hand him over?”
“Hand him over?”
The lead gnome squinted at me. She sort of looked like Janet Reno, if Janet Reno was two feet tall and worked in an auto repair shop.
“No,” she said decisively.
I held my breath, waiting for the worst.
Kill him –
Torture him –
Flay him –
Turns out, it was worse than that.
“Hump him,” she said decisively.
…wait, what?!
“Yaaaaaay!” all the female gnomes cried out as they began to jump up and down with joy. “Hump him!”
“Wait, WHAT?!” I shouted frantically.
The ladies began flinging off their clothes left and right. Dirty green jumpsuits went sailing through the air.
“WHOA! NO! UNH-UNH, NO!” I screamed.
To those of you who think this might in any way be erotic, I have a thought exercise for you.
Take an ugly-ass 4’10” woman who weighs 200 pounds.
Now shrink her down to 2 feet tall and put her in dirty granny panties and a maternity bra.
Now multiply that by ten women.
Yeah.
That’s what was dancing all around me.
Thank GOD they at least kept their underwear on.
But then things got worse.
Janet Reno jumped up on top of my crotch and began doing what I can only describe as a horrifying lap dance.
“Oooo-ooooh, do you think I’m sex-ay,” she purred in a helium voice.
“CUT THAT OUT!” I shrieked.
“Hump him! Hump him! Hump him!” all the other half-naked lady gnomes began to chant.
Okay, I have a confession to make.
I have sort of a phobia.
Midget porn.
Excuse me, ‘little people’ porn.
Some people are afraid of clowns.
Some people are afraid of spiders.
Hell, I even saw a talk show where a girl had a phobia of pickles.
Me?
I get freaked out by midget porn.
Ahem. ‘Little people’ porn.
It a
ll started in my freshman year of college when I walked in on my dorm roommate watching a little people orgy on his computer.
He wasn’t doing anything – yet.
But they sure as hell were doin’ stuff onscreen.
What I saw at that moment basically scarred me for life.
I screamed and ran out of the room. Didn’t return for hours.
And we never, ever spoke of that moment afterwards.
Hell, we never even looked each other in the eye again.
I lost contact with him after freshman year – if you can call ghosting someone ‘losing contact.’
Anyway, I am freaked out by midget porn.
Excuse me, little people –
Ah, fuck it. You know what I mean.
And here I was about to guest-star in ‘Keebler Elves Gangbang 7.’
This was DEFINITELY going down in the fuckin’ QC report.
I actually had some experience with a situation like this before – except all those women had been supermodels. Seriously. Bangin’ bodies, gorgeous faces. Even though they were part of a doomsday cult that wanted to –
…long story. Some other time.
The point is, all those chicks had been centerfold-worthy!
Hell, at least the three-foot-tall women in my dorm roommate’s porn had been cute!
Here I was just surrounded by a bunch of two-foot-tall bag ladies in granny panties!
Janet Reno began to gyrate against my crotch. “Oooo-oooh, do I make you hor-nay?”
“NO! NO, YOU DO NOT!” I shrieked.
Truer word had never been spoke, boy.
My dick wasn’t just soft, it had actually inverted. It had shrunk all the way back into my body like a tube sock turned inside-out.
My balls had retracted back into my body.
I think the trauma was reversing puberty.
“GOD, I HATE CHRISTMAS!” I screamed.
“What’s Christmas?” one of the female gnomes asked, confused.
“What’s Christmas?” became the new refrain.
“What’s Christmas?”
“What’s Christmas?”
Janet Reno stared me in the eyes, licked her lips, and started to take off her beige bra straps. “Whatever it is, big boy, I’m gonna make you like it.”
“NOOOOOOO!” I screamed.
“STOP!” a new voice rang through the warehouse.
All the female gnomes froze, looked up, then scattered.
Janet Reno’s eyes bugged out, and then she went running back into the piles of scrap metal, too.
I lay there shackled beneath the chains, terrified, wondering if it was Sinter Klaws.
But the voice had sounded like a woman…
I held my breath as I heard the click, click, click of stiletto heels on wooden planks.
Seconds later, a new figure towered above me.
A regular-sized figure, at least five feet tall.
And Jesus what a figure.
It was a woman – a young, gorgeous woman – dressed in a sexy Santa Claus outfit.
She had on a long-sleeve, red velvet dress that ended halfway down her thighs. The sleeves and hem were trimmed in soft white fur, as was the plunging neckline that revealed two small, firm, exquisitely shaped breasts. A laced-up, black leather corset accentuated her tiny waist. She wore black fishnet stockings on her shapely legs, and high-heeled, black leather boots. A red velvet Santa cap trimmed with ermine and a little white puff at the end sat atop her tangled brown locks. Her hair was a wild, chocolate mane that spilled down her thin shoulders and framed an angelic face: blue eyes, thick lashes, tiny nose, and red, luscious lips.
She squatted down next to me, and I could smell her perfume – soft, feminine, sweet.
Her breasts pressed firmly against the deep V-neck of her Santa dress.
My inverted tube-sock of a penis was rapidly un-inverting. Even inflating, you might say.
Then she opened her mouth to reveal some of the pearliest white teeth I had ever seen, and asked in a lovely voice, “Have you come here to save me?”
As I lay there crisscrossed by iron chains on the floor, I nodded somberly.
“Yes,” I said, just like Jack Burton. “Yes, I have.”
“Hahahahahaha!” another woman’s laughter echoed through the warehouse.
Both Santa girl and I looked up through the smashed roof, through the snowflakes drifting down from the night sky.
Alaria was lying at the edge of the skylight with her arms crossed beneath her chin, smirking at me. “Can’t wait to see how you manage that.”
9
I stared up at Alaria with my mouth gaping wide. “Have you been up there the entire time?!”
“Just since the show started.”
Now I was enraged. “YOU WOULD HAVE LET THEM – ”
“No, of course not,” she said as she jumped down from the skylight, her black wings flapping to slow her descent. “But it was pretty damn funny, you have to admit.”
No, I did not have to admit any such thing.
As soon as she landed, Alaria cocked an eyebrow appraisingly at Ms. Santa. I could have sworn my succubus was checking her out. “So… are you going to give us any problems?”
“Didn’t you hear her?” I snapped. I was still pretty pissed that Alaria had let Janet Reno twerk on me. “She needs someone to save her!”
“I want to hear it from her.” She turned back to the woman. “Well?”
The woman just stared in wide-eyed wonder. “No… no, problem at all…”
“Good,” my succubus said, and set about pulling out the iron stakes embedded in the floors.
She might have looked like a centerfold model with thin, toned arms, but Alaria was deceptively strong. Superhumanly strong. A few twists and tugs, and the spikes came out like a normal person yanking a knife out of a watermelon.
With half the chains loosened, I was able to wriggle out of my Gulliveresque cocoon and stumble to my feet.
“Thanks,” I grumbled, still annoyed.
“You’re welcome, sweetie,” she cooed, then turned back to Ms. Santa. “So… what do we do with – ahem.”
We’d caught Ms. Santa staring at Alaria’s enormous breasts.
To be fair, it was hard not to. Alaria’s parka had opened up, and her firm, gravity-defying Triple F’s were just barely held in check by her black bikini top.
The woman looked up hurriedly and blushed bright red.
“See something you like?” Alaria asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“I – I… I’m sorry, I’ve just never – I’ve never – ”
“Spit it out, darling.”
“I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful before,” the woman whispered.
I had to admit, the woman was telling the truth. Alaria wasn’t just sexy beyond belief, she was also gorgeous.
Although Ms. Santa was a close second.
“Oh,” Alaria said in surprise, then turned to me. “I think I like her.”
“That’s great, but maybe we ought to get out of here first,” I said, looking warily around us.
Tiny, homely faces were peeking out of the shadows, and beady little eyes were glinting in the light from the blast furnaces.
“What?” Ms. Santa asked, shaken out of her momentary hypnosis. She looked around and saw what I was looking at. “Oh – them.”
Then she did a complete 180 from the shrinking violet she’d been up until now.
“BACK TO WORK, OR I’LL TELL MY HUSBAND!” she roared.
Wait a second – HUSBAND?!
I was about to ask what the hell that was all about when the lady gnomes started scurrying out of the shadows. They hurried back to a series of work stations around the warehouse, basically wooden tables strewn with tools, metal parts, and electrical wiring.
I had flashbacks to my college dorm room as they ran past, jiggling in their granny panties and matching boob slings.
“Wait a second – your husband?!” Alaria asked, beating
me to the punch. “You’re married to that big blue guy?!”
Ms. Santa nodded. Tears brimmed in her lovely eyes. “…yes…”
“Maybe we can discuss this someplace else?” I asked, looking around uncomfortably at the homely, miniature bag ladies all glaring at me as they set back to work.
“Of course,” Ms. Santa whispered, and set off through the warehouse. “Right this way.”
Alaria and I followed her down the aisle, past the rows of resentful, half-naked gnomes.
As we passed, I took note of what they were working on: black, round orbs with spiky mechanical legs. They looked like bowling balls crossed with black widows – or crude toy versions of the big robot at the end of The Incredibles.
“What are those?” I asked Ms. Santa, pointing at one of the work tables.
“What? Oh, heaven knows,” she sighed. “My husband is always up to no good.”
We walked up a set of rickety stairs, out of the warehouse, and into a covered wooden walkway. There were only a few candles in sconces on the walls to light our way.
The wind had picked up, and I could hear it moaning outside the dark vestibule.
“By the way, I’m Ian.”
“I’m Alaria.”
“I’m Sinterina,” the young woman said, then added bitterly, “It was originally Anushka, but I didn’t even get to keep my own name when I wed.”
“We could call you Anushka,” I suggested.
“It’s a name from another time and place,” she said grimly. “Anushka is dead. Sinterina is all that remains.”
Yikes…
“How the hell did you wind up with him, anyways?” Alaria asked.
“It was not my choice,” Sinterina said bitterly.
“Oh,” Alaria said.
Uh oh.
I tried to be sensitive. “Um, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wa– ”
Sinterina ignored me and launched into her tale. “He demanded a bride from the village, and selected me. I remember the day the mayor and the elders came knocking on my family’s door, looking sad and ashamed. I begged my parents not to give me to him, but Sinter threatened to destroy the entire town unless I relented. For the good of the village, I left my family in tears… and every day since has been a living hell.”
Shit.
There were aspects of the videogame that were disturbingly dark, and I had apparently stumbled into another of them.
