The League of Homunculi 

Part 3

After Morgan departed, the League revealed themselves to the captive Lancelot. With some assistance from his proffered hand, they attempted to pick the lock on his cell. Yet the sewing needle swords of Tom and Thumbling and Issun’s miniature katana proved ineffective.

“It’s no use,” Lancelot said with a heavy sigh. “The lock’s enchanted, like everything in this blasted castle. And the key has gone beyond our reach. Morgan swallowed it. Forget about me, my little friends. Tell Arthur and…and the queen…that I will love them always.”

As the knight set them back on the floor, Tom was deep in thought. “The key is beyond conventional reach perhaps. But we are hardly conventional.”

Thumbelina was aghast. “You cannot possibly be suggesting what I think you are, Thomas.”

“Why not?” Tom asked. “Our size has ever been an asset in this line of work. We can go where others cannot.”

“I’m not letting that witch eat me!” insisted ‘Lina.

“Of course not,” Tom agreed. “But if we drug her, keep her unconscious, one of us can slip down her gullet unnoticed and retrieve the key from her belly.”

“That’s insane!” Thumbelina declared.

“Is it?” said Tom. “Thumbling, you survived being swallowed by a cow. You’ve told us so many times. I myself have escaped various creatures’ attempts to devour me. This can be done, I know it!”

“You are either very brave or very foolish, little homunculi,” Lancelot added. “But I will not have you risk your lives for me in this way.”

“You are the greatest among us, Sir Lancelot,” Tom told the knight. “We will not abandon you.”

“Says who?” Thumbling muttered under his breath.

* * * *

Thumbelina flitted about the banquet table on golden wings, dropping faerie potions from her homeland into each goblet and glass. It took several hours of waiting but eventually, Morgan sipped some of the drugged wine and staggered dreamily to a nearby couch. Within moments, the sorceress was asleep.

The League had procured some string to tie about the waist of the one who would retrieve the key. But who would do the deed?

“The moment of truth,” Tom said. “One of us must descend, not into the belly of the beast, but the belly of the beauty.”

“This was your crazy idea, Tom,” Thumbling reminded him. “You should do it.”

“You’re the one always bragging about being swallowed by a cow, ‘Ling,” Thumbelina mentioned. “This should be old hat for you.”

Thumbling balked. “If you’re comparing Lady Morgan to a cow, ‘Lina, I think she’d resent that inference.”

“My heart weeps,” ‘Lina said, testily.

“I shall go,” Issun-boshi decided, already tying the string around his middle.

“Issun, no,” Tom protested. “You have a wife waiting for you at home. ‘Ling’s right. It’s my plan and I should carry it out.”

The little samurai shook his head. “I am smallest,” said Issun. “I can slip down most easily. You might choke her and cause her to awaken.”

“Man’s got a point,” Thumbling said.

“You’re certain of this?” Tom asked. Issun nodded, his stoic expression barely changing.

“Honor commands.”

Within moments, the League had gathered atop the face of the reclining sorceress. They balanced uneasily on her cheeks and chin and stared with trepidation at the ruby red lips of Morgan le Fay. Her vast mouth hung open slightly as she breathed in and out with the gentle rhythm of sleep. Each breath wafted upward past the miniature heroes like air escaping from some subterranean chasm.

Quickly and carefully, they took hold of the string and began to lower Issun into her mouth, through the gateway of her plump lips. The little samurai descended into the humid cavern past glistening rows of porcelain teeth that could easily rend him asunder. At his back was the wet slippery wall of her tongue which he bumped softly against now and then as the string dangled. In the confines of her mouth, those warm breaths now howled like a wind tunnel, rustling Issun’s hair and clothing. He suppressed a shiver and concentrated on the task at hand.

In seconds, they had lowered him to the opening of Morgan’s throat, a yawning abyss from Issun’s perspective. As he descended further and further down the woman’s gullet, his presence caused an irritation that triggered a reflexive swallow. High above, the League held fast to the string as they felt a strong tug from the other end. Behind them, the lady’s throat bobbed with a sudden bulge as tiny Issun was gulped down whole.

Powerful muscles contracted around his body and Issun felt himself sliding down the tunnel of Morgan’s esophagus. At the angle at which she rested, it was something like riding a semi-horizontal water slide. Seconds later, Issun landed with a plop inside the giant woman’s belly. The humid heat was nearly unbearable and the air rank. All around him were the deafening gurgles and rumbles of Morgan’s inner plumbing. Somewhere above, the pulse of her heartbeat doled out its song like a distant drum.

Not wishing to linger, Issun got to work. He felt around experimentally in the slick muck of half-digested supper and wine. At last, his hand touched the smooth metal of the key. Issun took hold of the item, his muscles straining to lift it for it was taller than he was. The samurai yanked roughly on the string around his middle, signaling to his comrades that he was ready to ascend.

The League pulled with all their might, drawing their friend upward from the deadly depths. Issun squeezed through the tight fleshy gate at the entrance of Morgan’s stomach, which had thankfully been held open slightly by the presence of the string. Up the slippery water slide he rode, clutching the key against his chest.

Just as it seemed their plan would proceed without a hitch, the sleeping giantess began to rouse. Morgan groaned drowsily and her eyes fluttered open. Feeling something on her face and a foreign object nearly gagging her, the enchantress slowly sat up. ‘Lina and ‘Ling lost hold of the string as their world went vertical, sending them plummeting from the woman’s chin. The two little ones fell unnoticed down the front of Morgan’s bodice. Thumbling came to rest against the base of the massive breasts while Thumbelina, to her chagrin, tumbled headfirst into the canyon between them.

Only Tom maintained a grip on Issun’s lifeline, refusing to abandon his friend. He dangled on the end of the string a few inches below Morgan’s face, which soon tilted downward to inspect him. A giant hand swept upward and delicate fingers wrapped tightly around his torso. The sorceress’ eyes grew wide with surprise as she grasped the tiny man. Removing the string from his hands, the woman gave a devious smile. As Tom watched helplessly, Morgan pursed her lips and slurped up the rest of the string like spaghetti, swallowing it and its minute passenger.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my brother’s dwarf,” the sorceress said, squeezing Tom in her hand. “Just what were you up to, little man? What was on the other end of that string? Some device to retrieve the key to dear Lancelot’s cell?”

Her eyes widened once again as an idea occurred to her. “No, it…it was one of your little friends, wasn’t it? And I just swallowed him whole!” Her free hand rose unconsciously to rub her stomach.

“What a thought!” Morgan continued to massage her abdomen, hardly paying attention to the small creature in her fist. “A tiny little man, trapped alive within my belly! Such a shame. I had no quarrel with you manikins but you brought this on yourself. If you’re here at my brother’s behest, I suppose that makes you my enemies.” She brought Tom close to her huge red lips. “Or perhaps, more accurately under the circumstances…my prey.”

A gigantic grin filled Tom Thumb’s vision and the sorceress snapped her teeth menacingly mere inches from his head. “But not yet, I think,” she said, pulling him away. “First I must find your fellow toy soldiers. I’m sure they’re hiding around here somewhere. Come out, come out, wherever you are, little ones!”

Deep within Morgan’s generous bosom, Thumbelina wriggled and squirmed, attempting to escape the narrow crevasse that had consumed her. It was proving most difficult for she was suspended upside down and for the life of her, could not seem to get any purchase on the slippery walls of skin that surrounded her. Somewhere beyond this barrier of flesh, Thumbling called to his teammate.

“Oi, ‘Lina! You all right?”

“I’ve had better days, ‘Ling,” the little woman replied. She scowled as she felt the blood rushing to her head.

“What the deuce happened?” the voice of Thumbling asked. “Wasn’t that potion supposed to knock her out for hours?”

“Her power must have counteracted it,” said Thumbelina. “It’s always risky mixing magicks. Damn it, I knew this was a bad idea!”

“Say, where are you anyway? You sound a little muffled.”

Thumbelina frowned. “If I’m to maintain any sort of dignity, I would really rather not say.”

“Hold up,” Thumbling chuckled. “Are you ‘down in the valley?’ Aww, wish I could trade places with you, girl. I’d love to take a dive betwixt this wench’s knockers! Biggest damn things I’ve ever seen!”

“This isn’t a game, ‘Ling!” ‘Lina shouted at him. “If Tom’s lost the string, Issun’s done for! And we’re bloody next!”

As if on cue, giant fingers intruded into ‘Lina’s prison, plucking her from Morgan’s cleavage. Thumbelina dangled upside down by her leg in front of the enchantress’ dark eyes. The tiny woman blushed as her dress began to slip down towards her waist, exposing her little bloomers to the sorceress queen’s gaze.

“Aha!” the giantess laughed. “I thought something was tickling me! A rather tender hiding place you picked, my faerie princess.” She gripped ‘Lina roughly and turned her over and over in her fingers, examining her, though not yet pulling the dress back into place. “My, aren’t you a pretty little thing! A perfect living doll, such an exquisite figure. You must be the envy of every little poppet.”

“Stop it!” Tom shouted from her other hand. “Don’t hurt her!”

“Whatever am I to do with you?” Morgan mused, ignoring him. “Perhaps I should send you to keep your friend company in my belly. He must be awfully lonely down there, the poor morsel.” Morgan lifted Thumbelina over her lips and opened wide, poised to gobble her up. ‘Lina dangled once more in an inverted position, her little foot grasped tightly between the woman’s thumb and forefinger. A vast gaping maw loomed threateningly below.

“My lady, I beg of you!” Tom implored. “Spare her! Take me instead!”

Morgan hesitated and glanced at the struggling Tom. “Such chivalry. Arthur has taught you well. You pass the test, Sir Tom. I was curious what sort of character you little manikins possess.”

“Truthfully, I don’t think I shall eat either of you,” the lady continued. “I am not without mercy. Consuming your companion was an unhappy accident but you need not share his fate. Not if you please me. Perhaps I shall keep you as pets.”

The sorceress walked over to the table and lifted an empty wine glass. She deftly placed Tom and ‘Lina on the tabletop and overturned the glass on top of them, trapping them within. The giant woman knelt down before them, her huge face distorted through their glass prison.

“I must find the last of your number however,” she said. Morgan got down on hands and knees and began searching the room, checking under the table, below the rugs, and in every nook and cranny.

As she crawled forward, her heavy breasts hung from her chest, landing on top of Thumbling within her bodice. He was nearly pressed flat below their weight until Morgan sensed an alien presence inside her corset. Once more she reached down her front and retrieved a little stowaway.

“Another one?” she said with amusement. “I had no idea my bosom was such a site of pilgrimage. Then again, Sir Accolon always liked it…”

Morgan stood up and approached the table once more. The devious grin returned to her lovely face and she eyed Thumbling slyly. Reaching for a wooden skewer, she stuck it nimbly through the back of Thumbling’s shirt. She then placed the item straight up in the center of a pie so that the little man hung from it as if suspended on a flagpole. The giant enchantress giggled incessantly at his plight.

“By the Goddess, you imps are amusing! What fine pets you shall make!” She leaned closer to inspect Thumbling, her massive face filling his horizon utterly. “Hmm…who’s missing then? What unlucky soul did I devour? Ah, I know. The little warrior from the Orient. What a pity. Ah well, I’d always fancied trying Eastern cuisine.” She laughed at her cruel joke and patted her belly playfully. Morgan surveyed her tiny captives with glee.

“Oh, my pets….such fun we’re going to have.”

To be continued...