tagNonHumanLittle Fuckers

Little Fuckers


Diane walked into the front room of her apartment, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and smoothing her fingers through her blonde locks. After three weeks of a hard push at work, she finally had a long weekend as a reward, and she was determined not to sleep it away. That didn't mean she was awake enough to start breakfast, though. She picked up the remote to the television and sat down.

A moment later, she screamed when the couch suddenly tilted forward, and to the left.

Upon catching her balance — and her breath — she muttered, "What the hell?" Sure enough, when she got down on her knees and looked, one of the legs had broken off the couch.

The last couple of weeks had been filled with such small disasters. The day before, the showerhead had fallen off as soon as she turned on the water. The coffee maker had fallen victim to the curse the day before that. From broken heels to leaking pens, it had seemed as if the world was conspiring to drive her even crazier while she battled exhaustion from work.

Well, I'm awake now, she thought. The fright had chased the last vestige of drowsiness from her in a split second, so off to the kitchen she went.

After breakfast, there was one task that couldn't be ignored any longer. She'd put on her last pair of comfortable panties before going to bed. There were a few racier garments left in the drawer, but those were for special occasions, and not everyday use. The laundry needed to be taken care of before she could truly begin to enjoy her long weekend.

She carefully checked the hoses on the washer before turning it on. A loose one spraying water everywhere had been the first of the string of disasters, and she really didn't want a repeat of that. Once the first load was in, she returned to the front room to see if there was anything she could do about the couch while she waited on the washer.

Along the way, the sight of a package sitting on the table changed her mind. It was from her grandmother, and had arrived while she was at work the day before. Curiosity overwhelmed her. She picked it up and took it to a chair, where she sat down slowly, wary of a repeat of the couch trying to dump her in the floor.

The tape yielded to her nails without much trouble, and the first thing she saw was a handwritten note from her grandmother.

When I called the other day and you told me about your string of bad luck, I knew you would need this. Keep an open mind and trust your grandmother, Diane. Blessed be, the note read.

Though the family didn't speak of it, everyone knew that her grandmother practiced Wicca, and had picked up the craft from her own mother, who had in turn learned it from her mother. Diane's aunt and mother had broken the long-running string, but her grandmother had been trying to influence her for years in hopes of reviving the family tradition in the next generation. Diane shook her head and chuckled while she looked to see what else was inside.

Beneath the note were several purple cloth-wrapped bundles. Each had a D stitched into it with silver thread, facing upward, demonstrating that they were gifts meant for her to keep. When she unfolded the first, she found a white candle that her grandmother had no doubt made herself. She could smell vanilla and other enticing scents when she brought the candle to her nose. The remaining bundles were three similar candles as well as four brass holders.

Upon removing all the candles, Diane saw the lid of a beautifully carved wooden box with a silver latch and hinges. As with the cloth wraps, her initial was carved into the center of the lid. Inside the shallow box, sitting on a purple velvet cushion, were five white crystals. They were semi-transparent, and caught flickering rainbows of light within their facets.

The box was beautiful, and the candles smelled wonderful, so she appreciated the gift, even if not in the way her grandmother had intended.

In the very bottom of the box was a thin, hand-bound book. It was a little larger than a hardcover novel, and the binding was covered in purple cloth stitched with strange symbols on the borders, surrounding her initial in the middle. Diane lifted the book from the box, opened it, and gasped in surprise.

The last thing she'd ever have expected to see in a gift from her grandmother was a detailed drawing of a naked man. Of course, it wasn't just any naked man. His skin was a rosy, magenta color for one thing. He also had horns and pointed ears sticking out of long, black hair. Despite these strange features, he had a handsome face and a lean, muscled body. His unusually large penis was drawn erect, and flowers in a vase next to him seemed to be there to indicate a scale of perhaps two inches high. At the top of the page, in flowing, calligraphic script was the word Gremlins.

After recovering from her initial shock, she looked closer. The page had been copied from another book, picking up the signs of aging in the paper in the original. The text below the header appeared to be in the same hand, though less embellished. Made curious, she began to read.

Gremlins were described as distantly related to the Fey, such as Fairies, Pixies, and Sylphs. They were supposed to be impossibly fast, and invisible to people unless they wished to show themselves, or were compelled to do so. While generally benevolent, this sometimes changed when the creatures were provoked.

The indications that one had gremlins living within the home were all too familiar to Diane over the last couple of weeks. When upset, the creatures were said to sabotage things in the night to vex the homeowner. That certainly explained why her grandmother had sent her the book.

The next sign of gremlins taking up residence made her blush — and wonder.

Ever since she'd moved into her new apartment a few months before, she'd been having wonderfully intense orgasms whenever she masturbated. They were accompanied by fantasies that seemed to take on a life of their own, filled with handsome, virile men she'd never seen before. It had encouraged her to pleasure herself even more frequently than she had when she first explored her body years ago.

The book listed that very thing as an indicator of gremlins. The creatures were said to delight in a woman's pleasure, and feed their own bliss into her, creating a loop of ever-increasing ecstasy that culminated in exactly the type of orgasms she'd been experiencing. A sudden lack of that stimulation was said to be the most common reason gremlins went rogue.

Diane looked away from the book and thought. The string of mini disasters had started shortly after the long, hectic days at work had kicked in. She'd come home each night so exhausted that she almost always dropped straight to sleep upon crawling into bed. In that entire time, she could only remember masturbating twice. Upon thinking about that, she realized that both of those times, nothing had gone haywire the following day.

This can't be real, she thought. The words rang hollow in her head, though. The book was describing everything she'd experienced recently in eerie detail, and compelled her to read on.

What followed was a ritual to capture the gremlins, and force them to leave the home. It required four white candles, and five white crystals, explaining everything else her grandmother had included in the box. The bait that lured the gremlins into the trap was the woman masturbating. Once trapped, the creatures became visible, and all that was required was to order the creatures from the home, and they would leave, never to return.

Diane's gaze darted from the book to what she thought was movement in her peripheral vision. She had the overwhelming feeling that someone was watching her. Every dancing shadow and small sound made her start.

This has to be a joke, she thought. As quickly as the thought occurred, she knew it was wrong. Her grandmother would never do something like this as a prank, no matter how implausible the whole thing seemed.

It was too much to deal with, and Diane snapped the book shut. She shook her head and stood, determined to forget the whole thing.

It didn't work.

She managed to go through the motions of a normal day long enough to transfer the load of laundry from the washer to the dryer, and that was it. She found herself standing in front of the table where she'd left the contents of the package, staring down at the book and arcane instruments.

I can't believe I'm even considering this. I must be going crazy.

As she had a dozen times since reading the book, she turned toward an imagined sound and searched every nook and cranny for its source, only to see nothing.

There's only one way to prove it's not real, she thought when she looked at the book again. Just do it, and when nothing happens, you'll know Grandma is going senile.

It made sense. Of course, so did assuming her grandmother wasn't in her right mind, without going through the ritual. That was even more reasonable. Yet she was drawn to the book. She had to make a considerable effort to not reach down, pick it up, and peruse the pages again. After fighting the urge for a few seconds, she surrendered.

There wasn't much to the ritual. Make the room dark. Place the candles at the four corners of the bed. Place the crystals around the bed in a pentacle pattern. Light the candles, creating a between of light and shadow, then lie down and draw the creatures in.

I could put two of the candles on the nightstands, and the other two on t.v. trays, she thought. If I close the door and hang a blanket over the window, that should make it dark enough.

The little bits of problem solving were the breaking point. Part of her was still trying to pretend it was ridiculous, and to forget all about it, but deep down, she'd already made a decision. She was going through with it.

Diane packed the items back into the box to make them easier to carry, and headed toward the bedroom. She sat the box down, and then returned to the front room for a candle lighter and the t.v. trays. When they were set up at the foot of the bed, she opened the box again.

It's just a game, like when you played with the Ouija board in college, she thought while removing everything from the box. Just do it, and then laugh at how silly it is when nothing happens.

Soon enough, the candles rested in their holders, and the crystals were arranged. Then, she hung a blanket over the window and closed the door. When she shut off the overhead light for a moment, it confirmed that the room was nearly as dark as night. Once the candles were flickering, releasing a warm scent of vanilla and spice, Diane turned out the light for the final time and beheld the scene.

The only thing missing was the sacrificial virgin.

After taking a deep breath, Diane carefully crossed the room to her bed and climbed in. She felt incredibly self-conscious as she lay on the bed in the candlelight, and couldn't bring herself to undress. The book hadn't said anything about that, though. Reaching a compromise, she parted her legs and reached between them to rub her folds through her shorts.

Her fingers moved at a slow, methodical pace while her eyes roamed the room. She squinted into the darkness, seeking any sign of movement amidst the dancing shadows cast by the candles. The faint whoosh of the air-conditioning flowing through the vent was the only sound that broke the silence.

Nothing was happening.

Or rather, nothing was happening so far as the ritual was concerned. Something else was certainly happening. It had been a week since she'd masturbated, and even the tiny bit of stimulation was sparking a fire. A brief, quiet moan escaped her, and she rubbed a little harder.

Her breathing picked up. Her fingers moved faster. After a minute or so, thoughts of the ritual faded into the background, drowning in a sea of need. She caressed her breasts through her t-shirt and could feel how stiff her nipples were. The hand between her legs slid higher, and then beneath the waistband of her shorts. She gasped when she touched her sex through the thinner material of her panties.

There was no turning back. In a rush of arousal, she pushed down her shorts, tugged up her top to free her breasts, and gave in to a week's worth of pent-up need. Her fingers slid between her nether lips and she moaned again while drawing the slippery digits up to her clit. The first touch of the swollen bud made her whimper.

Her eyes pinched shut and she yelped from the intensity of the pleasure shooting from her sex through every inch of her body. A second shockwave, hot on the heels of the first, caused her eyes to open just as rapidly as they'd closed. At that moment, the candles flared into unusual brightness for a fraction of a second.

Diane screamed when she saw the tiny, magenta-skinned men kneeling and trembling at the foot of her bed.

In the midst of scrambling toward the headboard to cover her body with her hands, she thought, The little fuckers are real! Oh my god, they're real!

Diane sat, curled up into a ball at the head of her bed, paralyzed by the shock. She couldn't move, and couldn't speak. The three creatures looked exactly like the drawing in the book, right down to the proportionally huge erections twitching between their legs. Even in her fear and the faint candlelight, she couldn't help but see that. The gremlins remained where she first saw them, unmoving save for those bobbing phalluses and a barely discernable tremble.

She gasped when a masculine voice spoke in her head, saying, "We will obey." It was quickly echoed by two similar voices, repeating the same phrase.

Obviously, her grandmother knew what she was talking about. That meant that all Diane had to do was order the gremlins to leave, and the problem would be solved. She was on the verge of doing exactly that, when something other than the creatures' voices crept through the strange, psychic link between them.

The gremlins lamented their fate, but knew the reason for it. Diane could also feel a touch of fear coming from the creatures, as they had dwelled here since the building's construction. Beneath all that was something far stronger, however.

Though their posture was one of supplication, all three of the gremlins' eyes were upon her, trying to see her body around her concealing hands. They breathed deeply, drawing in the scent of her arousal and savoring it. It was that which caused their trembling as much as fear, and had everything to do with the turgid state of their members.

It wasn't just a sterile knowledge of their thoughts she sensed, either. Diane could feel their desire flowing through her, and it was having an effect. A chill shot up her spine as a fresh rush of wetness flooded her sex. She unconsciously pressed the hand between her legs tighter against her folds, and found her eyes exploring the magnificent bodies — and cocks — of the small creatures.

"No more tricks," she heard one of the gremlins say in her head. The other two murmured in agreement. "Never again if we may stay."

Diane thought, They seriously expect me to believe that?

It probably shouldn't have, but she was surprised when the gremlin answered, "Is true! Is true! We're sorry, but we missed this."

That is so creepy, she thought, brought on in equal parts by them answering her thoughts and feeding off her pleasure.

"No! Not feed — share. We give back to you," the creature argued, and then demonstrated.

Diane stiffened and gasped when the undercurrent of desire rose to the surface, overwhelming all of the other emotions of the creatures. It gave her chills and made her ache with need like nothing she'd ever felt before.

"We could give more if you allow us to touch — to taste."

By all rights, those words should have frightened her to the core. She knew she should be repulsed and disgusted by the very suggestion — let alone the thought of it actually happening.

But she wasn't.

She could remember every incredible orgasm she'd experienced since moving into the apartment. She knew now that the gremlins were responsible for that, and she wondered how they could possibly give her more, and what it would be like. The arm covering her breasts slipped down, revealing them. She could see the gremlins stiffen, and feel their delight as they beheld her stiff nipples. The ache between her legs grew even more urgent.

"You must say it," the gremlin said. "We must go now if you do not allow us to stay, or share."

Once again, she'd made her decision before she cared to admit it to herself. A single, quiet word tumbled from her lips, "Share."

The creatures stood, freed from the crystal trap by her word, and the hard members of each bounced in turn. A prisoner of her need, Diane slid down onto her back, parting her legs as the gremlins approached. One final wave of fear passed through her just before the creatures reached her, but it vanished instantly with their touch. A warbling cry bubbled from her lips when six hands and three tiny tongues touched her folds.

It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. The creature's hands roamed over her, seemingly touching her everywhere at once. Hands stroked up and down the curve of her nether lips on both sides. Another slid between her folds, caressing the spongy walls. A hand wet with her juices rubbed her clit, sending electric pulses shooting through her. All the while, the creatures lapped up her nectar, emitting deep moans of delight she could hear in her head.

But there was far more than their touch to tantalize her.

She could smell the perfume of her need — thick and intoxicating. She could taste her bittersweet wetness. The throbbing of her swollen clit mingled with that of the creatures' cocks. She could feel every ounce of their pleasure, which was tinged with excitement and wonder. The creatures were absolutely lost in her.

Diane's fingers curled into claws and dug into the sheets. Her back arched. She gasped. Her butt remained firmly in its place on the bed and her legs remained parted, though. Somehow, she knew she could move any time she wished. She even confirmed it by pulling her knees closer together by an inch or so. Something was suppressing her unconscious writhing — which was growing by the moment — allowing the gremlins unhindered access to her wet heat.

They were taking full advantage of that.

Three slippery hands moved to her clit. The sensation of the hands moving in opposition to each other over her bud was incredible. A yelp burst from her lips, and she felt the creatures' pleasure surge.

There were arms inside of her, unerringly finding her every sensitive spot. Tongues tickled her — lightning quick. Hard cocks found creases in her folds and slid into them. In the space of a few heartbeats, the various appendages were moving so quickly that they felt like tiny vibrators tantalizing her need.

Diane grew light-headed and broke out into gooseflesh as her pleasure mounted. She soared ever-higher; reaching what she thought was the pinnacle of ecstasy, only to somehow go beyond it. Every panting breath emerged as a whimper, growing more desperate by the second. It felt as if every pore of her body was filled with energy, pleading to be released.

And then it was.

Her orgasm tore through her in electric jolts that shot from the tips of her clawed fingers to the tips of her curled toes, and then crashed back in upon each other. She heard the gremlins groan simultaneously, and then felt their hot semen spurting into her folds — far more than should have been physically possible. She cried out, screaming to the ceiling above as their climax mingled with hers.

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byLesLumens© 9 comments/ 15027 views/ 24 favorites

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