Mac and the Little People Ch. 03

Mac awoke shortly before dawn to his watch beeping. He silenced it and laid there a moment. His hangover wasn't as bad as it usually was. Maybe the run late last night cleared out his system a little. He rolled off his cot and shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee.

The kitchen counter was still a mess of blood, dirt, and used paper towels. He threw away the trash, making sure to throw away the expired kit contents. He would have to go into town today after the morning patrol to get more alcohol wipes.

Mac opened the cabinet and found his great aunt's floral pattern tea cups all lined up in a neat row. He reached for one but stopped short. It would surely arouse the anger of the little wooden woman, if she existed. His shin was still aching from her treatment last night. Instead, he retrieved the motel-6 cup from the hearth in the living room. He was surprised to find it empty. Surely Mac had not become such an alcoholic that he drank in his sleep. That might explain the short people who shouldn't be real.

He had mixed feelings about it. That wooden housekeeper was unpleasant but the little green monster seemed friendly enough. He wanted that one to be real.

Mac stood on the front porch with his coffee, watching the dawn come. The gray light illuminated the misty valley to the west. Color came into the world, dripping from the tops of the tallest trees as the sun rose.

It would be time for him to wake the kids for school, if he still had them. He wondered where they were. Nashville probably. The restraining order that his ex-wife left behind included a clause forbidding him from attempting to find them. Mac finished his coffee and went back inside to start work.

---

Lamlag observed the human man with interest as he drank the burnt bean water. She could smell the stink of it from her perch in the dogwood tree beside the porch. Though Mac was only ten feet away he would never see her.

Lamlag's pale silvery skin and waist length white hair were a perfect compliment to her flawless incognito spell. Even when visible she was no more than a grayish trick of the light to dull human eyes. Unfortunately she had to be naked to make it work, leaving her exposed to the cold. Lamlag's squirrel skin dress was tucked in a clump of grass at the foot of the tree. Her greaves lay beside it.

The cold of the early morning made her toes hurt on the tree branches. She shivered as a slight breeze teased her thin frame and made her nipples harden. The dogwood branch trembled and dropped a thin sprinkle of dew from its petals.

As she watched the human, she gained an appreciation for him in the same way any hunter appreciates the strengths of her prey. He moved deliberately and gracefully, like he was measuring the effort required for each step. This was odd compared to the other humans she had seen. Those others were sloppy, swinging their arms around and chewing or sucking on foul smelling things constantly. It became clear to her how he was able to coup her so easily. His movements used just enough energy to move his body, but no more, so he didn't announce himself with constant flapping and splashing of wasted effort. This meant trouble. Clumsy hunters or loggers were easily dealt with, but a human who knew what he was doing was the worst kind.

Drochide would want to know who the new enemy was. He would praise her, or at least scold her less. But that could wait. The refuge was so peaceful when viewed from the dogwood tree. The field was recovering nicely after spending so many years crushed under the human machines. Lamlag intended to enjoy it. She hoped the Rubettes and Rabbit-people were doing better since the mowers quit coming.

She watched the human finish his bean water. His elbow moved, as did his eyes, but the rest of his body stood still. When he finished the cup of foul brown water he turned and went back inside.

---

Fifi awoke to the sound of movement and the smell of coffee. It meant Mac had not left for work yet. As stupid as it was, Fifi had a tiny hope that she could see more of Mac, even if she risked getting dropped off in some strange town.

On any other day, there would be the noise of humans moving around and collecting things before closing the door with a bang and leaving her in sudden quiet. Today there was nothing like that. Instead, there was a faint rustling from somewhere in the house. She wondered what Mac was up to now.

She hoped he wasn't waiting behind the boombox to pounce on her, but almost immediately dismissed the idea. She knew Mac well enough to know he didn't sneak and pounce. Still, she was hesitant to show herself. He would most likely trap her with his eyes the way he did with the human children and make her explain all the mistakes that led up to her getting attacked. Eviction was almost preferable.

The hesitation didn't last long. She was starting to get hungry, and with that came curiosity. What was Mac making for breakfast? Fifi was always more curious than fearful, so she emerged from the boombox.

The bandages had worked their way off her wounds overnight, but she was no longer bleeding. She noted the burrito shape of her rolled apron. That was sweet of Mac to do.

A cup thumped on the table in the kitchen. She concentrated on not being seen and peeked in. Mac was there, looking at something on the table. Maybe it was food. She didn't smell food or see him eat. Maybe it was boring food, like bread or cold cereal. Then he flipped a page over. Papers. Perhaps they were interesting papers.

Fifi could read human language. She crept over to the table indirectly so she would stay out of Mac's direct line of sight. If he thought about her while looking at her then she would become visible again. She silently climbed the back of a chair and perched on top. Mac was looking at pictures. Fifi liked pictures better than words.

She climbed onto the table to get a better look, lurking near Mac's elbow. They were maps. Fifi was good at maps. USGS was second nature to her. Though she looked at lines and colored ink her mind saw the actual terrain. There was the house, the drive. Mac drew some lines on the map that corresponded to some lines on the other maps. He then drew the same lines on the areal photograph.

Fifi began to understand it better. Inside the lines, the trees were old and tall. Outside the lines the land was a mix of farm fields and low bushy trees. Maybe the lines on the drawing matched up with real lines that kept the farmers out but they were probably some human made up thing. Fifi watched as Mac circled a small structure on the areal photography map. The corresponding spot on the USGS map had a structure too. Then he put the pencil down.

---

Mac finished consolidating the maps and looked up. In daylight with coffee in hand the idea of a little green monster woman was absurd, as was a little wooden Scots-woman and whatever creature of imagination he had seen in the woods. Even so, he half hoped the gremlin was real and still around. Patching her up made Mac invested in her well-being. Or maybe it was having her naked in his arms. Fifinella. That was her name. He wondered what was in that smile of hers. Short little fangs obviously, but that smile said she knew more about him than she let on.

He wondered if her well rounded green hips and that beautifully formed slit could accommodate him, but tried to dismiss the idea. It was absurd, and he was a pervert for thinking it. She was as tall as his knee, shorter than the shortest midget. There was no way it could work.

---

Fifi felt her skin tingle as her semi-invisibility wavered. The human was thinking about her. She slipped down from the tabletop into one of the chairs and ducked out of sight. That was close. With the things he was thinking he could have exposed her with a glance. Fifi stayed motionless, concentrating on not being seen.

Mac pushed back from the table and stood. She could clearly see that he was erect through the thin fabric of his boxers. She blushed. So he was thinking those kinds of thoughts about her. Good. If she made him feel that way then there was a good chance he would let her stay.

---

Mac dressed for work. Luckily for him, there were no real hours and no boss breathing down his neck. "Take care of the place, and keep the loggers and riffraff out," was the way his cousin put it.

Mac sat on his cot and laced his boots. The red LEDs on the boombox caught his eye. It was still on, softly playing some synthwave song he had never heard. His finger touched the power switch, but he paused.

"Fifinella, are you in there?" he asked. He didn't really believe that she would answer.

In the kitchen, Fifi became visible again. It was off-putting to pop back into view every time he said her name. At least he hadn't figured out how to command her.

"No," she called to Mac.

Mac jumped up and looked into the kitchen, elated that the little green monster existed. He looked down admiringly at her scaled-down, but still dangerous curves. She looked back up at him, puzzled. Mac felt he should say something rather than just oogle his little guest.

"Where do you want the boombox?" he asked.

"I. I. I don't know," said Fifinella.

"I'm going to put it under my cot for now then. That way it doesn't get kicked." Then he saw her eyes start to water. "Are you OK?" Mac asked and dropped to one knee.

"Nobody ever asked what I want before," said Fifi. A tear escaped, turning a tiny bit of the dirt on her face to mud.

Mac wondered whether to hold her or let her be. He compromised by holding her around the shoulders with one hand. She held onto his thumb. He wiped a muddy tear off her cheek, leaving a green streak of exposed skin. She would be cute if she wasn't so dirty. Mac wondered how to bring up the subject of a bath. He also wondered for a moment if he would have to restrain her in order to give her that bath.

"Do you take baths?" He asked.

---

Fifi blushed under the caked on grime. Though he was holding her this was not an interrogation.

"Sometimes," she answered. She was sure she had taken a bath once or twice, but couldn't remember when.

"Do you want one now?"

If human soap operas had taught Fifi anything, baths included food, drink, and sometimes romance. She could use a bit of all three. Having a human bring her wine and cheese while she laid in a bubble bath was unimaginable luxury, but if Mac was willing to give it then Fifi would gladly take it. She imagined lying in the big tub with a bowl of ice cream and a cup of wine floating in a thick layer of bubbles.

"Do you want to give me one?" she asked, pressing her breasts into his palm.

"Um. Yes." said Mac. Fifi saw a bit of red on his ears.

Mac walked away and returned to the kitchen with some plastic bottles and a folded towel. Fifi climbed up the drawer knobs onto the counter to see what he was up to. Mac turned on the water. He turned to Fifi.

"Lets see how your leg is doing."

She turned to show him the outside of her thigh. There was a round scab where the arrow had pierced her. She lifted her heel and bent her knee, showing off her calves and hamstrings.

"I don't think I will have to re-bandage you. Have a seat in the sink."

Fifi was surprised and disappointed. A kitchen sink is much less romantic than a tub. The metal was cold on her butt, and the drain in the middle made laying down impossible. She sat a moment waiting for Mac to put in the plug in her less romantic bath. Instead, she felt warm water on the top of her head. Mac was using the cup sprayer to shower Fifi. This was not romantic at all. There was no way to eat fancy cheese and drink wine this way. She tried to stand up.

"I'm not done yet" said Mac and gently held her down with one hand.

"You're doing bath wrong!" shouted Fifi.

"How?" Asked Mac, ending the shower.

"Need cheese, need wine, need bubbles, need....candles!" said Fifi, now streaked with mud. She held her ears low to let the water drip off the tips.

"Oh, that kind of bath" said Mac, chuckling to himself under his breath.

"And use hands. No shower" added Fifi.

---

Mac put the plug into the sink. Then he squeezed out some green goo from one of the plastic bottles. It started some suds. He found an emergency candle in a drawer, but no matches. He had no wine, but there was some rum. Mac poured a little bit into the metal cap and handed it to Fifi. Then he found some cheese. It was sliced cheddar. Mac got a slice out and put it on one of Great Aunt Mabel's tea saucers. Unsatisfied with the presentation, he sliced it with a butter knife, making gremlin bite sized pieces. He placed the saucer in easy reach of Fifi, who was chest deep in warm suds.

"Do you need anything else?" How did he allow a simple bath become this full production? Fifi handed him the cap full of rum.

"Make me the lime drink," she said. Mac looked at her, puzzled. "The one with the sweet green drink in it" she explained. It had been years since Mac had what he called a rum limey. It was simply cheap rum with enough sweet lime juice to make it seem less cheap.

---

Fifi liked the sweet green drink. Mac had left one on the work bench a long time ago. She drank the whole thing before he returned, then had a great time causing the boombox to make strange noises while Mac checked and re-checked components with a multi-meter.

When Mac handed her the sweet green cap full of lime flavored rum she downed it in a gulp and held the cap up for more. She also gulped down the second cap full. When she held the cap up for a third Mac took it and didn't return it filled.

"Want more," she said.

"Two is enough for somebody your size. Have a cheese," said Mac.

"But. is. good," said Fifi between bites of cheese. Even though the rum was cold when she drank it, her insides were getting warm.

Mac squeezed out a small amount of blue goo onto his hands and rubbed them, making a lather. He began working the lather into Fifi's hair, rubbing her scalp with his fingertips.

Between the warm water, rum, and Mac's fingers working through her hair, Fifi began to feel drowsy. She fought sleep and looked into Mac's face, which had somehow become more handsome. As his fingers rubbed the dirt from her scalp Fifi could feel his magic as they rubbed across her skin.

"Now to get the mud off your ears," said Mac. Fifi felt his warm fingers on her fuzzy ears. He gently rubbed them between his thumb and fingers. His fingers dislodged the grime that was embedded in the short, dark fur that covered the backs of Fifi's ears. It felt good. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the metal side of the sink.

The magic from Mac's hands soaked through her ears and then some. The pleasure seemed to drip like warm honey from his hands down her spine, into her hips, and fill her secret place, the one part of her body she kept private. Too much!

"Stop" Said Fifi.

Mac took his hands off her. Fifi breathed heavily. He was a dog, putting his magic deep inside without permission.

"Did I hurt you?"asked Mac. Fifi shook her lathered head.

"Did I touch you wrong?" She shook her head again. He had touched her exactly right.

"Need new water" said Fifi, buying herself some time to recover. The warmth of the magic that filled her a few seconds ago was dissipating. What seemed like too much a second ago was suddenly not enough. As forward as it was to just dump all that maker magic into her she wanted more, wanted to get filled up completely. But not yet. Mac didn't know her well enough to be allowed that deep into her.

Mac shifted the sink drain. The brown water receded, leaving a film of soap and dirt. Fifi tried to rub the soap film off herself but only smeared it. Mac turned on the warm water. It rinsed a spot on Fifi's leg, exposing light green skin. She moved to get more of herself under the water, washing away the itchy soap. She let the water run through her hair, taking the brown shampoo and sand away with it.

---

Mac found himself aroused at the less dirty gremlin in his sink. She was a light minty green all over, with a thin sprinkling of dark green freckles on her face, chest, and forearms. As she moved Mac could see a hint of muscle under her smooth skin.

The counter edge hid his bulge from Fifi's view. Not that he would ever let her experience it. The size difference between the two bodies was too much. And she wasn't human, with her furry, pointed ears. As odd as it was, he thought they were cute. Fifi put her face under the running tap, rinsing off the last of the mud.

She looked up at Mac with bright green eyes. Bright, but soft, like she was inviting him into bed. Something in her eyes told him what he had done to her when he rubbed her ears and why he had to stop. Maybe ear scrubbing was a thing gremlins did with their lovers, and he had inadvertently made a proposition he was too big to keep.

---

Fifi had figured out the sink drain after seeing it operated once. She was also just tipsy enough to think of something fun to do with that new knowledge. She slid down until she was resting on her elbows with her crotch nearly touching the plastic handle of the sink plug.

"Want you to close the drain."

---

Mac wondered how such a small person could be such a big tease. That little troublemaker was pushing the boundaries of inter-species relationships. Mac carefully reached down and turned the drain a little. The plug dropped and closed the drain. Fifi's legs closed too, gripping Mac's wrist tightly between her soft inner thighs.

"Now you are caught and have to answer my questions!"

Mac wondered if the rules of getting caught worked both ways, or if this was considered caught. Fifi sat up and wrapped her arms around his forearm.

"Question one. Do you think I'm pretty?"

That is a drunk girl question, no matter the size of girl, thought Mac. He felt compelled to say yes, but not by any kind of magic that he was aware of. Fifinella was looking at him with hopeful eyes and rubbing her face on his forearm hair.

"Yes."

"Next question. Do you like me?"

How could Mac like her? He barely knew her. From what little he knew, she was a mess who made more messes. He almost said no, but stopped himself. She seemed friendly enough, and it was a long time since Mac had a woman wrapped around any part of him.

"Yes," he said.

"I have always liked you too," She replied. Mac wondered what that meant. Exactly how long was always? Or was there a difference between the human and gremlin idea of always? The warm water was deep enough, so Mac turned off the water.

"How long ago was this?" He asked. Fifinella looked up at him.

"It's a secret," she said, chasing it with a tipsy giggle.

"You get one more question," said Mac. Fifi looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I want to save it for later."

"Can you do that?" Mac asked.

"Probably," Fifi answered with a smile.

"Are we going to get on with the bath or do I have to wear you like a bracelet until you have thought of a third question?" asked Mac.

"Only if you do it for real and not use the spray-water," said Fifi.

"OK, no spray water."

"And no cloth. Only hands."

Fifi released Mac and stood up in the sink. She was close enough that Mac could smell her hair. Wet gremlin was close to wet dog. The parts of her body that she scrubbed on Mac's hairy forearm were clean, contrasting sharply with the dull embedded dirt on the rest of her. He checked his forearm. There were the dirt prints left by Fifi's cheek, breasts, belly, and thighs.

Mac squeezed out a bit of green goo from one of the bottles onto his hands. He started by gently rubbing Fifi's forehead with his thumb. The thin grime rubbed off her green skin easily.

---

Fifi closed her eyes to keep the soap from stinging. Mac's fingers were warm and gentle on her face. He didn't rub Fifi's ears again, which both relieved and disappointed her. It felt so good, and it also felt too good. That kind of thing led to other things. Those other things didn't match up in size.