S2-ENF-026 - STOLEN CLOTH

“Stop! Come back!”

“Hee hee hee! You’ll never catch me!” giggled the leprechaun as he sprinted away through the woods, a heap of girls’ clothing piled high in his arms. It had seemed like such a perfect day for a swim. Carol, Mariko, Sonya and the rest of the Artemis girls had stripped off and dived into the babbling forest stream with nary a second thought, not suspecting for a second that they were being secretly observed by an ancient Celtic trickster spirit.

Now he had all their clothes!

“No!” squealed Carol, clutching her breasts as her feet slapped against the grass and mud of the forest path. “Come back!” At least nobody was around to bear witness to their shameful naked sprint through the remote Irish glade, she thought. Though the leprechaun kept peeking back over his shoulder, apparently delighted with what he saw. He paused before a large pair of standing stones, stuck out his tongue, snapped his fingers, and dived right between the stones, into a curious mist that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere. Carol plunged in after him, determined to put an end to his shenanigans.

When the mist cleared, she was elsewhere.

To be specific, she and the rest of the Artemis girls were standing in broad daylight on the corner of a busy intersection in Dublin, before half a dozen pubs and several hundred fascinated locals. “Faith and begorrah,” said an old man with a cane. “Tis Mad Sweeney, and his famous dancin’ lassies. Never did I think to see the like again.”

“Let’s hear it for Mad Sweeney!” said another Irishman, raising a pint of Guinness in celebration, as the girls turned crimson and tried to duck behind each other. Carol couldn’t believe it. She was standing stark naked in the middle of Dublin, in broad daylight, tits out for all the lads to see! She yelped, blushed and covered her curvaceous body with her hands, shielding her tits and pussy from ogling pub-goers of both sexes, looking around frantically for a place to hide.

Mad Sweeney was sitting on a nearby bench, smiling at her. He was holding a fiddle. As she watched, with mounting horror, he began to play.

Carol’s feet began to move.

Slowly, her hands raised above her head as she began to dance an Irish jig. The lively music echoed through the streets of Dublin as the rest of the mortified Artemis girls followed suit.

The city rang with honest Irish laughter as the naked ladies, feet kicking, breasts jiggling, bottoms wiggling, hair flying free, reluctantly obeyed the call of the music. They had crossed the leprechaun Mad Sweeney, and they would have to pay the price. Dancing naked from one end of old Dublin town to the other. Just as it was in the days of old.