Goblin Wives - NORTH POLE Pt. 03a

Goblin Wives -- North Pole Part 3a

© JAKwriter aka writerJAK -- December 2023

All rights reserved. No republication without approval of the author.

Scanning for AI learning, data scrapping, and similar activities is expressly prohibited.

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Silently, figures gathered in disparate locations. Each preparing for the events to come. Each had a roll. Each had a purpose. Each had a destiny. Each was waiting for the sign.

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A tall figure, standing over nine feet tall, wearing protective equipment, and with a large air tank on its back, stood just inside the main door to a large building. Another figure, less that five feet tall and dressed similarly, approached.

"Chief, you gotta see this."

"Bad?"

"Yeah, very bad. Follow me, I'll show you."

The two figures walked through the building, passing work areas filled with benches and tools. Other areas had racks for material storage. Each room was the same, yet different.

"Air still good? Have positive pressure? No leaks?"

"Yes Chief, I'm good for another forty-five minutes. Pressure is plus point one and holding. No sign of leakage."

"Good! How much further?"

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"What I need to show you is only a couple more minutes. Through the door ahead, down a short hallway, then we are there. Got two watching it. They'll be rotating out in twenty minutes. Replacements are on the way."

The two figures continued their progress, arriving at the entry to a room guarded by two. Each was also under five feet tall and were wearing protective equipment and air tanks.

"Chief, this is what you needed to see."

"Shit! Is this is bad, really bad. Is this the only one or are there more?"

"Chief, at least three more. I've got reports there may be another two."

"Shit! I need to get back and report. This changes everything."

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Investigators poured through the documents delivered in dozens of boxes. Most were nothing of note. Just general information about worker assignments, production numbers, tool breakage, and things of the like. Pages and pages and pages all had the same types of information.

Each of the investigators was looking for a clue. Something different. Something that stood out. Yet all they looked at was the same. Nothing new. Nothing unique. Nothing of significance.

Additional boxes were provided to the investigators. Just as before, all was the same. Nothing new. Nothing unique. Nothing of significance.

One of the investigators stopped. Looked at the documents it was reviewing. Then looked at other documents it had already reviewed. Calling over her supervisor, she pointed out what she was seeing. A grim look appeared on the supervisor's face.

"We need to call the Chief Inspector."

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Four reindeer escorted a fat elf down a series of hallways. Each was clad in a brown felt uniform, miniature antlers in place of a cap or hat. The elf was in a basic orange jumpsuit, muttering to itself as the group walked.

Finally, the reindeer stopped at an open door on the side of a hallway. They indicated to the elf that it should enter. After doing so, one of the reindeer closed and locked the door, with each of the four verifying that all the locks were engaged. Having done so, they left. As they walked away, they could hear the elf starting to talk, then shout, then yell.

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The elf formerly known as Santa stomped around inside his steel cell. Anger, frustration, and rage distorting its face.

"GOD DAMNED, MOTHER FUCKING, COCK SUCKING, ...."

Displayed on a dozen screens, officials and medical professionals watched the elf's behavior closely.

"THAT FUCKING SMELL! I KNOW THEY DIDN'T CLEAN THE FUCKING CELL!"

The watchers continued to observe and assess the elf.

"UGH! SOMEONE FUCKED IN HERE! I CAN SMELL THE CUM! FUCK! AND JILL JUICE!"

Silently chatting amongst themselves, the watchers' concerns were growing.

"IS THAT A CUM STAIN? IT IS! ONE, TWO...SEVEN...SEVEN FUCKING CUM STAINS! DON'T THEY KNOW HOW TO CLEAN!"

The chat discussions were becoming very animated as concerns grew.

"THERE'S NO WAY I'M SITTING ON THAT BED! I CAN TELL SOME BITCH GOT FUCKED ON IT. DAMN, I CAN SEE HER DRIED SLIME.

Discussions became more focused as the watcher's worries increased.

"THERE'S NO FUCKING WAY I'M USING THAT TOILET! I KNOW THEY'VE BEEN WHACKING OFF THERE!

Information was coming in from other sources. Particularly concerning were reports coming from Workshop. Assessments were being conducted and options evaluated.

"THE SINK! THEY MUST HAVE TOUCHED IT WITH THEIR CUM COVERED HANDS!"

Decisions were made. Paperwork processed. Teams put in motion.

"Psych Eval?" A watcher asked.

"Agreed," the others replied.

"And the information from the Workshop?" Stated a second watcher.

"Level 4 Biohazard!" One of the watchers declared.

"Agreed," was the reply from the others.

"Right, then there is only one place it can go. Transfer will happen in 30 minutes," a watcher announced.

"Hopefully that's soon enough," another whispered.