2hu puppet pals 2

	"Oh, it looks like that puppet's taken a shinin' to ya," the short half-japanese witch smirked, raising her hat's brim above her eyes with her thumb. She and the young man from beyond the boundary watched studiously as the puppet, animated by a strange spell, approached the dimensional foreigner and wrapped its limbs around his ankle. It squeaked a pleased-sounding squeal, like a mewling kitten, and tightly wound itself around him. He took a couple steps with it attached, and the puppet did not budge from its spot.
	"That's cute, I gotta admit," the witch laughed, though an unmistakably nervous tone followed in her chuckles. "Kinda weird that it looks just like me, though. Same clothes, a braid like mine, even carries a broom around..."
	The little witch puppet climbed the young man's body like that it were some large pack animal and straddled the top of his head. With a galumphant, squeaky cry and with its finger pointed straight forward, it gave a command to move forward.. which the man found himself complying with, if only to satisfy the small thing.
	"I guess I'll be seein' ya around, then! Good luck!" The witch called to the two as they marched onward.

	 The small puppet girl gripped the sides of the man's head and steered him around as they walked - the man just amused enough to go along with it, but after a while he realized he didn't know where he was going. He stopped suddenly in a patch of tall grass that stretched over his head, dripping the morning dew onto his shoulder. The puppet hopped off of him and ran headlong into the brush, disappearing in an instant. The man tried to call out to her, but was met with silence. He suddenly felt very lost and alone, clutching his elbows and trying to find a way back out of the grass blade forest.
	 A cacophony of rustling came from all around him. He was struck with a primal fear - he had become prey to some unknown predator, stalked by some lumbering monster with a taste for pasty white nerd flesh. He began to run, wheezing and panting as the adrenaline-fueled panic filled his being, causing him to overlook a log in the middle of his path. He slammed his foot into it as he ran and toppled over, crashing into the ground and laying in a dirt and grass covered heap, a fresh scrape on his arm. He lay there a moment, daze'd.

	From all around the strange man from another plane, emerge ankle high puppets, garbed uniformly in witch hats and black and white dresses. With a needle and thread, they bind his sleeves together in a sort of cloth hogtie, and follow suit with his legs. He is aroused from his frazzled state by a puppet, sitting on his neck, poking his lip with her needle. He felt the bindings holding his limbs together and realized he could move if he wanted to, but that would involve ripping his clothes.
	Perhaps he wouldn't have to do that himself, the thought crossed his mind, as the puppet girls began to unbutton his shirt and his slacks, the cool breeze on his skin and the shortest blades of grass tickling his stomach bringing to his attention that he was being undressed. His first inclination was to struggle and resist, but the puppet sitting on his neck poked him more firmly with her needle, prompting him to lay still and relax.
	The five little puppets imposing their will on is body was an odd sensation, their cotton and plush skin feeling over his body as they uncovered more of the pale flesh hiding underneath his clothes. He shuddered as a puppet extended her tongue and licked over his stomach - made of felt material and strangely damp. As the blood in his body surged to meet the expectations of the dolls, a mixture of fear and excitement rose in his mind. My god, he thought, I'm being raped by a bunch of toys! After a moment of internal struggle on whether to let them have their way or to make his escape by hopping out of the forest with his bound legs, he again tried to scurry to his feet-- but the doll on his neck popped up from her seat and sat down again, this time planting her bottom over his face and nose. Her cloth body smelled like clean laundry, which oddly enough was incapacitating to the interdimensional traveler, and aroused him in a way he never thought possible.
	The fresh air touching his most sensitive parts signaled to his mind that his prick had been freed of his underwear. He felt it pulsing and throbbing shamelessly-- standing up tall and straight for a bunch of little girls' toys. The embarassment he felt would have had him in tears, had he enough space to think inbetween the scent of the doll girls' crotch robbing him of any rational thought.
	Several small tongues paced up and down his shaft, their fabric tongues and mysterious wetness making him shudder. Apparently their mouths were just large enough to fit over the head, as he felt himself engulfed by a tiny mouth and his tip scrape the velvety soft cotton of the back of her throat.
	They were trying their best, rubbing and licking and touching him, but their imitation of skin made from cloth and hair, he realized, were just not enough to bring him over the edge. Instead he was riding painfully, torturously at his limit, unable to go any farther - when the doll sitting on his face stood again, her imitation plastic eyes staring into his very real ones. They moved around with life and intelligence, a startling shade of blue. She pressed her cotton lips to his fleshy mouth and snuck her tongue inside-- and he exploded, covering the girls at his waist in white adhesive.
	The girl at his face lowered herself to his crotch, and the dolls - all six of them - took turns cleaning him. Their tongues lapped him up, they licked him from their fingers... and they seemed to age. Become larger, fill out their dresses, their cloth skin soften into something that looked more real, more alive. They left him there in the grass, his clothes still strung together by needle.
	Oh my god, he thought. Six Marisas? Why would anyone need six fucking Marisas?