The League of Homunculi 

Part 4

Morgan le Fay reclined naked upon an elegant bed, her feminine charms revealed in all their glory. On the peaks of her breasts, Thumbling and Thumbelina held on for dear life. The body of their captor bucked wildly below them, amused by their plight and excited by the grip of their tiny hands. Tom stood on the smooth, flat terrain of her belly, stumbling about its surface and thinking ruefully of his comrade, Issun, trapped somewhere below.

“Yes, that’s it, my pets,” the sorceress said, breathless with arousal. “Please your mistress! By the gods, this feels wonderful! I wonder…did ‘pious’ Guinevere ever play such games? Or did she…*gasp*…save her infidelity only for…her favorite knight?”

A slender hand slinked down her torso and took hold of Tom in its powerful grasp. “I have a special task for your, Sir Tom,” Morgan said with a grin. “You, my brave warrior, shall be going….south.” Slowly, the enchantress began to lower him between her legs, which parted to accept the tiny offering.

“My lady!” Tom shouted. “Do what you will with me but I implore you—what of Issun-boshi?! You cannot leave him to die inside you! It’s inhuman!”

Morgan stopped to regard the little man’s protests. She sat up slightly, causing ‘Ling and ‘Lina to cling even tighter to her nipples, and lifted Tom to her face.

“It does seem rather cruel, doesn’t it?” Morgan agreed. “But it was not I who sent the Oriental to his fate. Not intentionally at least. You sent him on a foolhardy mission. You chose to ally yourselves against me in my conflict with Camelot. As such, little Issun is a casualty of that war. Surely with his warrior’s code, he would understand that.”

Tom squirmed helplessly once again in the giant woman’s hand and stared up into her pretty yet impassive eyes. “But you could save him!” the little man declared. “With your power, you could retrieve him easily and prove that you are not as heartless as the world believes!”

The sorceress considered this for a moment, idly stroking Tom’s hair with a delicate finger. “I likely have a spell or potion that could achieve this,” she admitted. “But why cause myself such discomfort for an enemy? Why induce such nausea and spew forth the contents of my guts like a sick dog?”

“Because he’ll die!” Tom said, frantically.

“Then you should have thought of that before sending him down my gullet like a human pill,” Morgan answered with annoyance. Then her face softened slightly. “Still….the poor little mite must be suffering greatly. Let us see if we can ease his passing.”

Getting up from the bed, Morgan approached a nearby table. ‘Ling and ‘Lina bobbed gently with each sway of her breasts, like tassels on an exotic dancer. Their heads swam at the dizzying height and they tightened their grips once more, inducing a gasp of pleasure from the giantess. Still holding Tom in one hand, Morgan lifted a bottle of wine that had been left by one of her castle servants.

As Tom watched in horror, the woman brought the bottle to her scarlet lips and began to guzzle its contents. Gulp after gulp traveled down her throat until nearly half the wine was depleted. Morgan set the bottle down and dabbed lightly at her mouth with a napkin.

“There,” she said. Her free hand massaged her bare belly with satisfaction. “He is surely drowned by now. That will spare him the extended suffering of digestion.”

Tom looked away in despair but the sorceress returned to caressing him with her fingers.

“I know you mourn for your comrade but what’s done is done,” she told him. “You three are my prisoners now but your life need not be unpleasant. I can be a gentle mistress. One day perhaps you will forgive me for wee Issun’s death.”

“Never,” Tom spat.

“So be it,” Morgan replied. “Then you must resign yourself to life as a toy, little Tom. You three have seen too much and I cannot allow you to leave this castle.”

Morgan returned to the bed and without another word, thrust Tom between her legs until he vanished utterly. She slammed her thighs together, sealing his exit, and delighted in the thrashing of his tiny arms and legs within. The sorceress smiled naughtily as she realized she now had two tiny men trapped inside her…

* * * *

In the depths of the enchantress’ belly, Issun-boshi fought to maintain his stoic calm. The mission had not gone as planned and the tiny samurai now faced entrapment inside a living human body. He breathed slowly to conserve oxygen and attempted to locate a means of escape. The gurgling sounds around him had intensified as his organic prison sensed a new source of nutrients and began leaking acids from the walls of the cavern. Issun ignored this and thought of his beloved Haru.

The tiny warrior drew his katana, uncertain if its sharpness could penetrate the fleshy barrier that now trapped him. Regardless, he knew he had to try. Before he could strike the first blow however, there came a thunderous sound like a rushing river.  The valve above him opened its gates and a torrent of red wine flooded in, sweeping the samurai off his feet. He was caught in a whirlpool of alcohol and swept about the chamber in a dizzying circular motion.

Thankfully, Issun was a champion swimmer, having practiced many times in the small pond that decorated his daimyo’s gardens (not to mention a few playful dips in Princess Haru’s teacup, from which his love would teasingly threaten to swallow him up. How horrified she would be now to see the reality that their games had only pretended at).

The “water” level had nearly risen to the top of Morgan’s belly but Issun still had a scant half-inch or so of air above him. As soon as the swirling maelstrom settled, he treaded wine and tried to keep his head above the surface.

* * * *

“*HIC*” Morgan covered her mouth demurely as her body gave a sudden spasm. The motion caused her chest to heave and flung ‘Lina and ‘Ling from their perches. The two little creatures tumbled down onto the bed.

“*HIC*” Another spasm rocked her body and Morgan momentarily ceased her games, retrieving the wet and exhausted Tom from inside her. “Goodness,” she said. “I guess that was-- *HIC*-- a little too much wine. It seems to have-- *HIC*-- gone straight to my head and given me the-- *HIC*-- well, you know.”

The sorceress scooped up her little prisoners and dropped them unceremoniously in the top drawer of her bedside table, shutting them inside. “We’ll play more later, my pets,” she told them. “For now, I think I should like to lie down.”

* * * *

*HIC*

Inside Morgan’s belly, each spasm of her torso shook Issun’s surroundings and bounced him about. Waves of wine tossed him this way and that, sending him to collide with the walls of her stomach. His katana, his only hope of escape, slipped from his fingers and sank below the sea of spirits. Issun dove down after it, swimming blindly in the dark.

*HIC*

Another powerful hiccup caused the vast belly to churn, spinning him about under an ocean of wine. He drifted, disoriented, like just another particle of food floating in this deadly pool. Issun bobbed back to the surface, gasping in the stale air. His skin felt like it was on fire and scraps of his clothes were beginning to dissolve. There was no sign of the katana. And he was uncertain how much more of this he could take.

*HIC*

Again his prison shook and churned.

* * * *

Meanwhile, in the table drawer, the remaining members of the League clambered over a pile of discarded garments. Tom, Thumbelina, and Thumbling found each other in the dim light and considered their next move.

“Are you all right, Tom?” Thumbelina asked. Her teammate was still soaked to the skin and had Morgan’s scent about him.

“Never mind me,” their leader insisted bravely, though he was noticeably trembling. “We have to get out of here.”

Thumbling had pressed his face to the keyhole, spying on their giant captor. “Well, I’ll be buggered!” he said in amazement.

“Don’t give her ideas,” ‘Lina said.

“No, really, come see, you two!” Thumbling announced. “The witch is asleep!”

“Well, of course she’s asleep,” said Thumbelina. “I drugged every glass and bottle I could find in the banquet hall! A servant must have brought that wine from the dinner table.”

“Then this is our chance,” Tom declared. “The key can still be ours!”

“No!” ‘Lina shrieked. “You’re not sending anyone else to die, Thomas! What happened to Issun is on your head! God, I can’t believe he’s gone. Who’s going to break the news to poor Haru?”

“But ‘Lina, the mission—”

“—is over!” Thumbelina finished. “Don’t you understand, Tom, one of us is dead!”

“If we quit now, Issun’s death will be in vain!” Tom said.

“And if we don’t quit now, we’ll be joining him!” said Thumbelina.

“Oi!” ‘Ling shouted to them. “Shut yer yaps for a minute! Morgan drank a whole lot more of that wine this time. Will that make any difference?”

“Doubtful,” ‘Lina said. “Her magic will eventually counteract the potion like it did before.”

“Right,” said ‘Ling. “She doesn’t seem to like faerie magicks. So what would happen if you gave her a major overdose of the stuff, more than she can just shrug off? Like, say, every potion you’ve got?”

“Hard to say,” the little woman answered. “Her power would probably fight against it, maybe try to…purge it from her system!”

“Exactly,” Thumbling said, smiling.

“’Ling, you’re a genius!” Despite herself, Thumbelina leaped forward and flung her arms about her teammate. She quickly pulled away again, awkwardly, thinking of her husband back home.

“Hey, I may act the fool but there’s a reason I’m in this organization, am I right?” Thumbling responded. “And I knew all along you couldn’t resist me, doll.”

“Shut up, ‘Ling,” Thumbelina said. But she was smiling slightly as she did so.

Tom was already hard at work trying to pry open the drawer, using a sewing needle as leverage. “God willing, Sir Lancelot may yet have a chance.”

To be continued...