Shanna and the Gnomes

Content Warning: This story involves a fairly long, non-consensual clothing removal sequence, in addition to some fear on the part of the protagonist.

The gnomes attacked without warning--without so much as a rustle of the trees to alert the procession that they were coming. Shanna was dozing, rocked into a gentle slumber by the movement of her litter as her serving men carried it along. Satin pillows bore up her full body, and a cool breeze was rustling the curtains that she'd drawn against the noonday sun. The tramp tramp of a dozen accompanying guardsmen sounded without, and there was not a thing to worry her. A book lay open on her bosom with lunch half eaten on a tray at her feet, and all was well. They'd been travelling the forest road since dawn's first light, and she was expecting to reach the city by late afternoon, where familiar chambers would be waiting at her father's house in the district of Mercantile Estates.

Then came the crashing, the cackling, the frightened shrieks, and the pounding of feet on the road. She was only half awake when her litter collapsed to the ground, and all at once she found herself floundering in the dust, dazed and struggling to find her bearings. She was dimly aware of the fleeing figures of the guardsmen as she fought with the tangle of her silken garments, and she reached feebly at the ankles of her routed attendants as they made for safety. She screamed panicked nothings, failing to form words, and finally came to her feet as the last of her retinue disappeared into the dense crush of trees that hugged the road.

Her coiffure had fallen into disarray, and she brushed clumsily at errant auburn locks as they fell before her eyes and stuck to her sweat-soaked cheeks. She tried to run, struggling over the edge of the fallen litter, only to strike her shins and trip over the bunched-up folds of her finery.

Shanna shrieked in frustration, her cries reaching a fevered pitch as she realized that her assailants were almost upon her. She tried desperately to drag herself along through the dust, to where she knew not, only away from there. She clawed at the ground with delicate hands, scuffed her knees as she tried to right herself again, and felt her body slicken with sweat beneath her blue and purple robes as her pampered limbs worked harder than they ever had before.

She was almost on her feet when all at once she felt iron grips on her ankles, and she fell flat on her face for a second time, flailing her arms and rolling onto her back with a convulsive effort. By then she was an utter mess. Her thick, dark locks spilled over her face and shoulders, robes twisted halfway around her body, sweat and grime rubbed into her blushing cheeks, and green eyes wide in terror.

There at her feet stood the dreaded gnome-pack of Pellervoinen. No civilized gnomes were these--no tinkerers, mild-mannered artisans, or transcribers of books. They were gnomes gone wrong. They were savage, feral creatures that were renowned for the terror they wrought on travelers and trade caravans. They were killers, thieves, and ravishers, and they were said to be the doom of all who crossed their path. They were the only gnomes of their kind--aberrations, and creatures of pure evil. They lived for mayhem and spread fear wherever they went, and now Shanna lay at their feet, tangled, ruddy, and helpless.

They were small creatures, of course, but their squat frames were thick and strong. Wicked smiles shone above the pointed beards on their chins, and they went naked save for rough, leathern loincloths. They carried an array of crude weapons, from clubs of bone to stone spears and slings, and some even had wooden shields to protect themselves. The one that had grabbed her ankles and toppled her now stood at her feet, hands hanging at his sides. He'd let go of her when she spun herself around and now simply stood there watching her as she lay panting.

The others were crowding in around him, and she was sure she could hear them gathering behind her as well, though she didn't dare turn around to look. Whether behind or in front, they had her at their mercy. But they were just standing and staring for the moment, and had all discarded their weapons. The murderous light in their eyes even seemed to have dimmed a little, but Shanna knew that that would not last. She did not know their intentions, but she expected she would learn them soon enough, and die screaming shortly afterwards.

She considered pleading, or offering them a ransom for her safe passage, but after just a moment of staring into their wild eyes, she knew that there would be no reasoning with them. They were animals more than sentient creatures after all. Beasts.

"Beasts!" She said, more to herself than to the gnomes. But then she lifted her head, threw her hair back, and addressed her assailants. "That's all you are. You're just animals--wretched, slavering animals!" Her voice was trembling, and she was on the verge of tears, but she resolved to make a show of defiance before they did away with her. "You can do what you like with me," she went on, "but no matter what, just remember that I'll always be better than--"

The lead gnome--the one that had grabbed her ankles--reached down and took the hem of her robes in in stubby-fingered grip, and the others immediately followed suit. In an instant they all came back alive, high-toned cries of glee rising from amongst them as they surged forward and began to tear at her clothes.

Shanna was stunned into speechlessness, and then began screaming in terror just as quickly as she'd fallen silent. Panic surged in her chest, and she started grasping at the folds of her fine silk robes even as the gnomes tore them away. Before, it had seemed there was too much fabric, but now she wished for more.

The gnomes exploded into a frenzy of grasping, pulling, and tearing, and they swarmed all over her as she thrashed her limbs and struggled against them. She felt rough, small hands all over her as the small creatures clambered over eachother to take hold of her finery. Sounds of tearing intermingled with their chattering and her own screaming, and soon the robes began to come away from her struggling body.

Her arms and legs were bared first, gleaming and white, flailing wildly for all their delicacy. The blue sleeves of her robes came away at the seams and slid past her wrists and into the grasping throng. She made a halfhearted attempt to grab them back, but it was a hopeless one. Next, she kicked desperately as the fabric came away from about her legs, but again to no avail. She saw her bare foot connect with at least one gnome nose, and watched with a moment's satisfaction as at least one gnome reeled back with his hands over a bloody face, but there were far too many for her blows to make a difference. Her legs were exposed all the way up her undergarments, and her thighs, just a creamy white as her arms, quivered with her frantic movements.

She was left with a ragged shift of royal purple, and even that did not last long. It became two and then four and then eight tattered rags as the gnomes pulled it apart, and Shanna soon found herself in nothing but her undergarments--a corset of modest white that pushed her ample bosom up below her collarbones, and a small fabric coverlet that hid her sex and left her full buttocks half-bare.

The gnomes piled in on all sides of her, and she had given up hope of freeing herself from the vicious scrum. Even her flailing was slowing, and her cries growing weak and her chest heaving as the fight slowly went out of her. She slapped the first hand that hooked itself over the top of her corset, and the second, but once again the gnomes' numbers proved too great, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

She groaned, struck out at random, and unleashed a torrent of bitter insults at the indifferent creatures as they stripped her of her bustier. First one breast spilled over the top of her corset, and as she reached to cover it the second was laid bare as the garment was pulled down and then torn away altogether. Her bosom bounced with her movements and lay amply across her ribs, and the whole of her bare trunk shone with the sweat of her struggle. She pressed her hands against her breasts, fingers sinking into the supple flesh as she tried vainly to cover herself. But it was a futile effort, and splayed fingers did little to cover her rosy nipples.

It was now that she noticed with horror that some of the gnomes had begun to uncinch their loincloths, stripping naked even as their wretched comrades reached for her last piece of clothing. She supposed she ought to have expected this--and indeed, she had all along--but the sight of their cocks springing out from behind discarded scraps of leather was too much. They had no sense of modesty--but of course they didn't--and they leered at her as they disrobed, hands at their sides and members bare to the wind.

The fight returned to her then, and she removed her hands from her breasts and began to pummel and kick the gnomes around her. She managed to catch them off guard, and some sprang back in surprise while others were laid out senseless by her renewed attack. Pain sang in her knuckles as she struck noses, cheekbones, and eye sockets, and a piercing shriek rent the air as a particularly swift kick sank into the plump gnomehood of one hapless attacker.

Fresh hope surged in her as the press of gnomes let up momentarily, and suddenly she found herself on her knees and then on her feet! As she rose, a stubby hand shot out from the crowd and took hold of her last piece of clothing. There was a flash of disgust as she felt fingers brush the skin below her navel, and a moment's panic when the garment was torn away, leaving her fully naked. But the gnomes stayed back for the moment.

They seemed hesitant now, some simply glaring at her in frustration while others exchanged nervous glances. Some even seemed about to turn away from her, and so she decided that her moment had come. Her pampered city life hadn't left her with a particularly strong body or quick legs, but she felt a burst of energy as she saw her chance.

Without warning she lunged forwards, selecting a section of the mob where the pint-sized assailants stood only two deep. She had meant to simply crash through them, but was surprised when they leaped back and made way for her. She barreled past them, sprinting down the road in what she hoped was the direction the city. As she pumped her arms her thick brown hair bounced about her shoulders, and her thighs, breasts, and rump rocked with the unaccustomed exertion. Her heart raced as much with the fear of pursuit as with the effort, but when she cast a backwards glance at the gnome-pack, she found that they hadn't moved. In fact, most weren't even paying attention to her.

She ran a few more steps before slowing to a halt, then turned to face the gnomes and rested her hands on her head as she labored to catch her breath. She stared at them, puzzled, shivering a little as the breeze cooled the sweat on her naked body. Her chest heaved and her lean stomach swelled above her curls as she filled her lungs.

The gnomes were milling about, and at first Shanna couldn't make out what they were doing. Even though they'd been tearing at her just moments before, ripping her clothes away and removing their own, it was clear now that they'd lost all interest in her. After a moment's hesitation, she allowed herself a few steps forward--just enough to see what could possibly be more interesting than her bare body.

As she came closer, she could see that they were still all naked, and they seemed to be occupied with something. She risked another few steps towards them, and realized that they were at work on the remnants of her silk robes! They'd laid them out and a few of the gnomes were carefully tearing and cutting them into strips, while others were busy shaking the dust out of the newly cut material. They went on like this for a few minutes until the material--all of it, from the copious folds of her robes to her underclothes--had been divided into more or less evenly sized segments.

Shana's mouth fell open then, and she let out a little indignant gasp at what unfolded next.

One by one, the gnomes covered themselves back up, only not with the same rough leather that they had removed just moments before. No, they'd found something better with which to gird their loins, and gradually the gnomes all donned fresh silken loincloths of blue, purple, or crisp white. Their leers and grimaces were replaced with looks of pride and satisfaction as they all admired their new finery, and they began stretching, strutting about, and preening. Happy chatter buzzed about the pack, and it was clear that they were all immensely pleased to have their nethers caressed by such fine material.

Eventually, once the last of them had donned his new garment and a heap had been made of the gnomes' old leather scraps, they all stopped what they were doing and turned to Shanna, who stood watching in disbelief. In unison they called out something to her in their harsh, high-toned tongue, and at the same time they all waved to her before filing back off into the forest.

They resumed their chatter as they went, smiling, laughing, stopping now and then to show off before their fellows. They'd become different gnomes entirely from the ones who had attacked her caravan--different from the savage creatures of local legend.

Shanna's mouth stayed slack as she watched them go, and she glared from beneath a furrowed brow as the last one to leave turned back toward her. He paused, offered a little bow, and gestured solemnly towards the cast-off pile of rags that the gnomes had left behind. He gave her a meaningful look, as if to confirm that she was indeed welcome to the leather scraps, and then he let out a squealing laugh and trotted off after his comrades into the forest.

Shanna hugged her shoulders and sighed. She looked to the wreck of her litter, and saw with dismay that the gnomes had stripped away all of its upholstery in their frenzy, no doubt for the same reason they'd taken her clothes. She looked to the heap of leather loincloths and then down at her pale body, and wondered to herself which would be better--to try to cover herself with those soiled scraps, or to walk naked through the city gates.

She sighed again and swore aloud as she listened to the last traces of high-toned chattering fade into the forest.