“What ho, milady!” The resonant basso profundo roared from the bathroom, filling the house with off-season Renaissance Festival glee. “‘Tis fair dragon weather that befalls us!”
Loretta Hall looked up from the grapefruit she was slicing into wheels on a cutting board in the dining room. Her plump, curvy body was only barely contained in a shiny, form-fitting satin gown in deep crimson, with rills of lace framing her ample décolletage. “Saints preserve us, Douglas! Whatever are you talking about?”
In response, profuse flatulence likewise roared and echoed throughout the household.
Loretta chuckled, her round belly and enormous breasts joyously heaving in their historical wrap. “Milord loves his jalapeño cheddar-wurst,” she observed, returning to the grapefruit, “but ne’er shall it favor him, I daresay.”
There was a blast of sink water, some contented humming, and then Douglas made his grand appearance into the dining room. Like his wife, he was decked out in period costume: a fanciful doublet in hunter green brocade with matching bloomers. The doublet was sorely pressed to contain his expansive beer-gut, as his black hose to a lesser degree stretched around his cannonball-like calves. Douglas smiled through his ruddy complexion and hauled off for a savage smack across his beloved wife’s ample buttocks. She emitted a satisfying yelp and shuddered with a flash of pleasure. In response, she stabbed him with her cooking knife.
That is, she wheeled around quicker than thought and made a thrust at him, reversing her blade at the last second. The pommel of her knife thudded harmlessly against his ribs. The consequent expression of cartoonish alarm on his face pleased Loretta thoroughly. They rewarded each other’s performances with a quick smooch and adoring laughter. They were a playful, spirited couple and, in the privacy of their own home, saw no reason why they shouldn’t dress up in their Renaissance Festival gear every once in a while, especially if it should ramp up their sexual ardor.
Douglas lurched his considerable bulk off to the kitchen. “What potables doth milady recommend? What quaff-worthy libations sit prime upon the day’s menu…” Much thumping of cabinet doors could be heard as he rifled around. The refrigerator door sighed and glass jars rattled. After this, several minutes of silence and quiet humming were all that was heard.
“Douglas, honestly, don’t leave the refrigerator door open longer than you have to.”
“Beloved, I’m just looking for something to drink!” The fridge door closed and the freezer opened. A tray of ice cubes rattled out. “I’m thirsty, I just don’t know what for.”
“Why don’t you have a beer?”
“Aw, I was hoping for something more elegant than a mere ale, a humble lager…”
Loretta pursed her lips. “Didn’t you just buy a six-pack of Dragon’s Milk last weekend? Why don’t you have one of those?”
Laughter erupted from the kitchen. “Milady, a sixer of Dragon’s Milk doesn’t last twelve hours in this household!”
The voluptuous lady in crimson smacked down her knife and rolled her eyes. “Well, look. I’m slicing up this grapefruit for drinks. Why don’t you make something with that? We’ve got a lot of vodka and gin to go through.”
Her husband emitted a youthful “ooh, vodka” and began opening and slamming cupboard doors again. This went on for several seconds until it stopped abruptly. All singing and humming stopped as well. There didn’t seem to be any movement at all for an entire minute.
Loretta tilted her head, her lavish blonde mane spilling over one shoulder. “Douglas? Are you all right in there?” When he didn’t respond, she called out again: “Douglas? My dumpling-lover? Did you find what you were looking for?”
At length, Douglas came out of the kitchen, walking slowly. Loretta turned to see what was the matter. She found her corpulent man holding something aloft, pinching it between a meaty thumb and a sausage-like forefinger. “I was looking for the bitters,” he said, “but I found this little raider instead, pillaging our victuals, as it were.”
The object he held aloft was a tiny person. It looked like an adult male, only a few inches in height, with tanned skin and a minuscule loincloth covering his privates. Douglas shook the tiny man, inches away from his own face, where a broadening smile spread through the stubbly whiskers coating his jowls.
Loretta left her grapefruit and gingerly joined her husband. “Well, look at this,” she whispered, eyes wide. She licked her ruby lips and grinned hugely before the tiny man. “You found another one. How lucky are we?”
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