Abigail and the Wee Bastards

Abigail and the Wee Bastards

Robert Armitage nearly killed himself trying to drag the old chest into the library. Although he was the Head Librarian, he resisted the urge to tell his assistant Abigail to give him a hand. Just because he was trying to push over two hundred pounds up some steps was no reason to disturb Abigail. Especially when she had her back to him and she was bending over to search the filing cabinet.

He knew from experience that Abigail's ass was the best part to look at. It wasn't only because of the perfect circle her great buttocks made under her skirt. It also wasn't because her legs were slightly apart in a beckoning manner. It even didn't have anything to do with way her feet kept shifting from left to right as she bent over. What made Abigail's ass so sexy was that you couldn't see her face.

Robert admitted to himself that Abigail had a very pretty face. It was perfectly heart shaped and almost delicate. He didn't care much for her dirty blonde hair, but then it was always in a lifeless bun pinned severely on top of her head. He knew he loved her cat-eye glasses, they make any librarian look sexy. It was her blue eyes that ruined her sex appeal. They had the ability to make him feel like all he had on his mind was sex. It was like being stared down by a stern grandmother who suspects your hands would rather be elsewhere. It didn't help that in Robert's case, it was true.

Abigail turned around and saw the chest he was moving. A chest usually meant that someone died and left some books to the library. It looked like the rest of her easy day was over. She always was in charge of any of the real work around here so there was no use avoiding it. She walked over to him and unconsciously made Robert's day by bending over to read the nameplate on the chest.

"Sean O'Brian?" Abigail asked after reading the faded plate.

"You remember Mr. O'Brian. He lived in that run down house on Bloch Street with all that bad lawn. When I was a kid we used to call him Mr. Stinky because of that funny smell that was always around his ankles."

Abigail nodded in embarrassment.

"I remember him now. He only came out of his house once a week to go to the store. Didn't he also wear a green vest and a big hat with a buckle?"

Robert smiled and answered her question. "Well, they tried to get him to wear pants and maybe underwear but he always insisted on his hat and vest. If he didn't pay for everything in gold coins, they would never let him wear his hat like that."

Abigail blushed and the red blossomed from her face and disappeared down her neck. Robert cursed the fact that she always wore a turtleneck sweater. She had such an awesome bosom under her sweater but she would never show it with anything revealing. He suspected she could smuggle an Atlas in her cleavage.

Abigail distracted her from his musings with more questions.

"When did Mr. O'Brian die?" she asked.

"Apparently last week," he answered. "It took the police a week to search his house for those gold coins he had, but no one found them. What they did find was a bunch of mushrooms growing in odd circles and empty liquor bottles. When they gave up on finding his stash, they gave us all his old books."

"Are these hammer marks on the chest?" Abigail asked. She noticed about a dozen scuff marks and a missing latch.

"Well, there was about three locks on this old thing so you can imagine they got pretty excited. When the police only found books inside, they were pretty pissed. But that's how the public library works, we get the scraps."

"Want me to sort them and shelve them?" Abigail asked.

"Sure," Robert answered, "I've got some, umm, paperwork to finish."

Abigail knew that meant Robert had his erotic collection of Internet to stories to attend to but said nothing. She was used to doing all the real work in the hopes of becoming Head Librarian one day. This was the longest job she had held and she planned on keeping it. Her other jobs were ruined by her refusal to participate in the casual sex that abounded in the workforce. Just because she was a girl didn't mean she had to rut with her coworkers.

After Robert pulled the chest into the back room, Abigail pulled up a chair to the chest and began her work. Robert sighed as he left but consoled himself with the idea that he had over fifty new stories to download. Plus, he had a new bottle of hand lotion so his day was looking up. Abigail didn't notice him leaving and closing the door behind him.

She opened the chest and nearly choked on the dust that swirled into the air. As the gray cloud settled, she saw for the first time the books she was to catalog. They were ominous looking books that were at least a foot wide. Wrapped in leather, the titles were long faded and Abigail couldn't make out what they once read. She picked one up and cracked it opened. The scent of alcohol and strangely enough, cheesecake rose from the ancient pages. She wrinkled her nose and tried to read the faded writing on the first yellow page.

Wiping away dust, she saw that there was no writing at all. It was in fact an odd picture of what Abigail guessed to be a leprechaun. It fit her description of what little she knew of leprechauns The painted picture was a small man wearing green clothes. But instead of a cheery little smile and a fuzzy beard, this leprechaun had a wicked sneer set below wicked malevolent eyes.

The assistant librarian frowned at the creepy picture and flipped the other pages, looking for some sort of text. Because Abigail was the thorough type, she checked every page. She didn't flip through the book like anyone else would. She was too careful with the pages. She had the same tender respect for this ancient book that Robert had for the 'object' of his hand lotion. By the time she was finished wiping every page, inspecting every picture for text and then turning the page to go to the next one, it was already evening.

She set the book down gently, and tried the next one. To her disappointment, the next book was almost exactly like the first. It was filled with endless pages of leprechaun pictures. Abigail didn't like dealing with such obvious pagan superstitions. She was never fond of a holiday that involved pinching and these little creeps were always associated with Saint Patrick's Day. It was well past midnight by the time she had finished searching every single leprechaun picture book. Exhausted, she left the strange books in a pile on the floor and went home for the night.

The next week was uneventful for Abigail and Robert, but significant to others that dwelled in the library. Every night at six o'clock, when Robert was reviewing his latest batch of Internet porn, a low mist settled in the forgotten storage room. When Abigail snitched an extra roll of toilet paper to take home on Tuesday, the smell of clovers became noticed around the entire building. Robert lied to his mother over the phone about his plans for the weekend, never knowing that simultaneously the water fountains gushed cold beer to a lucky teenager.

It wasn't too long that the Friday night came, which meant that Robert was to ask in vain if Abigail would go out with him. Abigail of course refused, she had way too much work to do, and often used the library closing hours to catch up. Robert took rejection like he always did, he assigned her more work out of spite and then went home to masturbate.

Abigail was relieved when Robert left. It was impossible to work when she suspected Robert was looking at her with deviant thoughts. It was bad enough that the local high school nerds had taken to asking her to get books from the top shelves of the library. All Abigail wanted was a peaceful place to work where she could escape the lustful stares of the world. Looking forward to some peace, Abigail dragged an armful of new donation books into the storage room. There she spent an exhaustive two hours cataloging books while sitting on the old forgotten chest of Mr. O'Brian.

---

Stretching her sore muscles, she rose to get herself something to drink from the office. Abigail was so tired at this point that she didn't notice the door was gone until she couldn't find the doorknob. She couldn't believe she was that tired so she stepped back to get a look of the room. What she saw next made her take off her glasses and give them a vigorous cleaning. It didn't improve the scene much.

The old storage room was completely gone. The walls were now a strange rough texture that looked like solid rock. The boxes and bookshelves were missing, and there appeared to be endless food in it's place. Abigail took a disbelieving step and found she had walked right into a stream of water. The electric light blinked out, only to be replenished by torches hanging from the walls. Shadows played on the wall and Abigail could swear they were playing a card game.

A voice began in the corner, whispering. Abigail jumped at the voice, but before she could ask who it was, another voice began. Then another and another. As she stumbled into the center of the cave frightened, the voices multiplied to a loud roar. The sounds echoed in the cave, threatening to deafen her. Her librarian instincts took over as her world went crazy.

"Who is that?" said Abigail. "Who is whispering? Come out, and show yourself or umm, I'll do something!"

One of the shadows moved and stepped into the torchlight. Abigail's eyes widened as she saw the little man that walked up to her. He was identical to the pictures she had flipped earlier except he had a lot more body hair. For that matter, he had barely any clothes on, which was why she knew he had a hirsute body. He certainly had the same wicked smile though, and for that she knew a little fear.

"Excuse us please," spoke the little man without any apology in his voice. "It's just been ages since we've been able to move around so we forgot our manners. My name has been forgotten, but you can just call me your majesty and I am the King of the Little People. We wanted to thank you and your boss very much. Between the two of you, you guys racked up so many petty sins that we were able to reform our bodies quickly after our long imprisonment in the chest."

Abigail was back in familiar territory, which was debunking lies and pulling loose ends to flimsy plots.

"Wait a second, when you say Little People, are you trying to say you guys are leprechauns? Are you trying to say that you were trapped in this chest somehow?"

"Well, you could call us leprechauns," the little man answered as he scrambled up a rocky chair that seemed to grow from the rocky floor. "Actually we have been called many things ever since we first emerged from the cracks of Oblivion. Gnomes, Leprechauns, Elves, Oni, have all been our names at one point or another. At least that bastard O'Brian called us Leprechauns."

"But you can't be leprechauns," argued Abigail. "Everyone knows that they are Irish and wear those green clothes. They also have a pot of gold. Wait a minute, Mr. O'Brian always seem to have gold coins. But wasn't he supposed to let you guys go?"

The King growled, a low sound that quickly escalated to an angry roar. Abigail covered her ears as he shouted his response to her questions.

"That thieving sheep fucker captured us all with his strange backwoods sorcery! He used ancient magic he didn't even understand from some left over tome of forbidden knowledge! I still can't believe he managed to trap all of us! There we were, stealing milk and babies and this old bugger jumps out and flings us into his books!"

"But does he let us go in exchange for bribes? NO! That bastard made us pay just to stay alive. Every full moon, he would release one of us and entrap us in a circle of holly. Then he would demand a gold coin or else he would threaten to destroy us. I hate it when those old fuckers have you by the short hairs!"

Abigail sat on a rock and tried to be civil. She hadn't quite accepted this tall tale, but she decided to patronize this poor midget. Besides, she wasn't done debunking his story.

"How come you don't have an Irish accent if you truly are a Leprechaun?" she asked.

"We never were Irish you stupid bitch!" he thundered. "We are the cursed of the Divine One! We walk the world reveling and partying without any souls. It's not till Judgment Day does this party end, but that's a pretty nice stretch of time. But NOOOOO, we spent fifty years in these damned books!"

Abigail had had enough. This poor deluded man had somehow managed to hypnotize her into believing this was a cave, but talking about God was pushing her tolerance. She was raised a good girl and didn't believe any nonsense about soulless people. She was getting ready to tell him where he could go with his delusions when she saw THEM.

From the shadows they came, hundreds of them at least. Barely four inches tall, they scurried around with amazing speed. They climbed on rocks, splashed through the stream and quickly appeared to have her surrounded in a hairy crowd. Hair covered their bodies, but their smiles gleamed in the torchlight. They began talking at once, chattering and snickering in a rising volume that echoed in the strange cave.

Abigail felt very weak in the knees and sat down hard on a convient rock. She covered her face with her hands and tried very hard to convince herself that she had been working too hard. A tug on her sleeve snagged her attention. She turned to see the strange King standing beside her with a little cup of what smelled like coffee. He offered it to her and she gratefully accepted. The small cup was barely the size of a penny, but Abigail sipped it down in order to be polite.

A strange tingling sensation started from her lips and spread like a waterfall down her body. Abigail immediately sprang up to her feet and grabbed a huge platter that appeared from nowhere. Her eyes were wide in alarm as her feet began to shuffle across the room and she felt her arms moving of their own accord as well. Before she knew it, she was bending over and serving the wee people food from the never ending platter.

"That's more like it," the King said. "We have been locked up so long, it's time we had a party. In order to have a party, we need a servant and you look like you'll do just nicely."

"I am not serving you!" she protested weakly. She then bent over again to pout a minute amount of beer into a tiny mug.

The laughter of the little people was maddening as she labored to serve them. Abigail was helpless to stop as she walked quickly to one little man after the next. There was an endless number of them to serve and she was forced to just watch as her body moved with precision in filling their tiny plates and mugs. even more unbearable was the way they always pinched her ass every time she had to bend over. Their tiny hands had an uncanny ability to pinch so hard it made her squeal every time.

Hours seemed to pass by as their party continued. Small hordes of the wee people would dance around in circles while others would sing songs around the torchlights. The King sat on a throne of glistening gold and Abigail tried yelling protests to him but the music was drowning her out. When her legs felt like they were as steady as wet clovers, she screamed at the top her lungs.

"I'm am not your fucking barmaid!" she screamed.

The part ground to a halt. Horrified at her nasty language, Abigail desperately tried to raise her arms to cover her mouth in shame. The glare of the King made her embarrassed to have spoken that way despite the fact that she was handing another leprechaun a biscuit.

"Not a barmaid are you?" the King asked. "Well then, let's see if we can figure out what you are then."

The King reached into nowhere and pulled a gold fiddle out. He stood up and began playing the fiddle with a vibrant energy. The rest of the little people clapped along with him as they widened away from Abigail in a circle. To Abigail's delight, she felt her arms drop the platter and she could actually take a step on her own. Her freedom was quickly snatched though as she felt her legs and arms become possessed. To Abigail's horror, she started dancing.

She spun in a circle and skipped freely around the room in beat to the music. Her dancing was superb despite the fact that Abigail had never danced a step in her life. She kicked her legs much higher in the air was decent, just knowing in her heart that these depraved creatures were checking out her white cotton panties. Her breasts were bouncing obscenely beneath her bra and sweater not to mention causing her tremendous discomfort at the sheer volume bouncing on her front. To Abigail's horror, her arms reached up and freed her hair from their hairpins. Her dirty blonde hair flew around her head, covering her in a sultry halo.

The music quickened and the beat escalated. The soreness of her body was forgotten by Abigail as her mischievous arms pulled her sweater off her body. She screamed as her chest was revealed to these perverts but she was grateful that her glasses somehow managed to stay on. She glared at each of the little men as she danced, daring them to stare at her gyrating bra. It didn't seem to affect their enjoyment considering their cheers and dirty hand gestures.

Her errant body then undid her belt and began pulling down her skirt. Abigail clenched her eyes shut but she could feel every shimmy of her ass. She could still hear the appraising whistles as she doubled over and stepped out of her skirt. When she then picked up her skirt and straddled it between her legs, Abigail just knew she was going to Hell for this. She just wished she didn't enjoy the feel of her skirt rubbing over her sex so much. Her arms teased the skirt back and forth across her panties too slow for Abigail to resist enjoying it.

Throwing the skirt to the hooting crowd marked a change in the music and Abigail felt a rising fear. The King played faster on his fiddle and Abigail's body picked up the pace as well. For an eternity, she pranced in front of the appreciative crowd. She bent over, she did full body flips, she did amazing splits on the floor, she did high kicks, she did handstands, and she even crawled around on the floor making kissing motions with her mouth. Abigail endured each of these indignities as best she could, which meant she frowned menacingly a lot.

Abigail struggled in vain as her arms slowly reached behind her. As her traitorous fingers worked on her bra snaps, Abigail began blushing a deep shade of red. When her brassiere was free and tossed to the crowd, her chest was almost glowing from how blushed and embarrassed she was. The leprechauns however were merely in shock. They couldn't believe she was so naturally endowed. Her breasts were like two swollen pots of red gold on her body. Several of the Leprechauns even fell off their seats as their heads bobbed in sync with the rising and falling of her chest.

The mischief of her hands didn't end with her brassiere. Abigail's wicked body then stood and danced around the room as she slowly slid her underwear down. Abigail was partially amazed at how she could dance while removing underwear but that amazement was quickly overshadowed by high kicking her panties into the crowd. Now, she was nude to these perverts wearing only her socks and glasses. She felt every eye in the cave examining her soft bush of hair in her hidden valley. Hell, she knew every eye was on her because she kept doing these embarrassing high kicks to give them all a good view.

'I hate you all!" she yelled repeatedly. "I hate all of you bastards and quit looking at my privates!"

The King stopped playing with a sudden stop. Abigail felt the magic leave her body and she collapsed to the ground, exhausted. She was even too tired to cover herself up but she was happy to see the music finally stop. When the King approached her, holding a miniature pastry, she could swear he even looked apologetic. It looked like she was finally going to get some sympathy out of these magical miscreants.

"I'm terribly sorry about all that," the King said in a humble tone." We were just having a little fun and it got out of hand. Please accept this delicious tart, it'll erase the pain in your limbs and we'll let you go now. We're really nice people deep down."

Abigail accepted the tart greedily and composed a few cutting remarks in her head. She wanted to tell these dirty old gnomes off and then get the hell out of here. She swallowed the tart like it was nothing, although it had a suprising sweetness to it. Scolding words flew from her train of though as an incredible heat washed over her body. Every inch of her skin became alive with exquisite sensation and she laid back on the rocky floor reveling in it. All of the trials and tribulations were forgotten as she intensely desired nothing more than to lay back and enjoy her splendid body.

The King looked at his subjects and let his voice be heard by all.

"We've feasted and we've been entertained," he yelled to his subjects. "Now let's get fucked!"

The leprechauns cheered as they rushed to Abigail's sensitive body. She laughed in delight as they scrambled on top of her body, little hands pinching and grabbing. She spread her arms wide as an army of wee men climbed up to her chest. Dozens of tiny mouths bit eagerly at her nipples, giving her sweet sensations of miniature pain. Hundreds of nipping, kissing and licking mouths covered every inch of her breasts, driving her mad with arousal. Tiny drops of hot cum splashed on her chest as the leprechauns masturbated frenziedly. When she clenched her arms across her chest in frustrated ecstasy, she killed three leprechauns in her cleavage alone.

Further down, her legs were being worshiped by a thousand hands and mouths. She moaned as small hordes climbed and mounted her legs. Tiny fingers massaged and caressed her sore thighs and calves. Miniature lips kissed and nibbled on her inner thighs. Her feet became sticky as the little men stuck their cocks between her soft toes and ejaculated onto her feet. She giggled in pleasure as they moved up to her fiery Blarney Stone.

Dozens of hands pulled and tugged at her blonde bush as they sought her sex. Abigail raised her pelvis to the air in joy as the first few Leprechauns climbed into her. Squirming, they packed into her clover patch. Her sex was assaulted by tiny hairy men rubbing and grabbing from the inside. The four inch tall men bounced inside her like hyperactive vibrators. Abigail cried out the sensations overwhelmed her, filling her body with extreme pleasure. The leprechauns rolled and pressed inside her, spilling their cum into her and then exiting so more could come in. It was like being fucked by a hundred little didloes. Abigail was gripping the floor with her hands so hard, she was leaving grooves in the rock surface.

She opened her eyes briefly and she saw the King standing on her chin. The power of the magic tart had so completely enchanted her, that she begged the King to fuck her. He climbed around to her nose and straddled her, facing her mouth. When she squinted, she saw his ass perched on her nose. He began stroking his majestic sheleigh at her open lips, grunting with each hairy thrust. Her tongue escaped her lips and beckoned to him with undulating motions. Abigail could feel her own sex throbbing into an orgasm and when his tiny cock pooped a few ounces of creamy cum to her tongue, she climaxed instantly. Her body tensed and then spasmed, shaking many of the leprechauns off of her.

"Oh God this feels good!" she cried out. "Oh god, oh God, oh GOD!"

Instantly, the leprechauns screamed in pain, Abigail didn't notice their discomfort as they wriggle on her body. To her super sensitized body, their thrashings only heightened her enjoyment. She climaxed again and cried out even louder.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God! I'm going to die!" Abigail cried out as she entered a new level of bliss.

Oblivious to Abigail, the leprechauns began shriveling. Their bodies withered and shrunk as they spasmed in their death throes. The soulless creatures couldn't even stand the mention of the Divine One's name and Abigail was wailing it out as loud as she could. Abigail was having a spiritual moment of bliss and the leprechauns were paying for it. As each orgasm wracked her body and each time she cried out her happiness, another twenty leprechauns shriveled like testes in a freezer.

After Abigail finally calmed down, she rolled over and raised herself on her elbows. She enjoyed a quiet moment of afterglow, admiring all the sticky cum on her breasts. Then the power of the magic tart disappeared and the impact of the decadent orgy struck her. She froze, stunned at what had happened and then frantically crawled over to her clothes.

The cave was gone now, and the storage room was back. She tried to imagine that perhaps she had bumped herself on the head and had a series of delusions. She toyed with the idea that she had been working too hard and imagined the whole ordeal. Abigail even considered that the turkey sandwich she had earlier had gone bad. Any one of these explanations would go a long way towards making her feel better about the guilty pleasures she enjoyed.

Sadly, none of those explanations could explain the thick coating of stickiness all over her body.

The End

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