Netiday Leftovers 2019

"Ha ha ha! You're a bad one, Miss Hood! You really are a jerk! You sneak in when there's trouble, and of a theft, you make short work! Miiiiiss Hooo-hoood!"

A not entirely melodious voice ran out as a figure in green began to make her way down the chimney leading into the main Netiday broadcast room, where the tantalizing mystery data had been shown to any viewer tuning in. This lady, taking the most direct route in, was clad in a Robin Hood getup, complete with a green hood, an eye mask to hide her identity (?), and a lighter green tunic, miniature skirt (that flapped breezily despite its size), matching gloves, belt, and boots. A quiver and bow could be seen on her back as she used a grappling device to lower herself slowly down the chute. Her proportions, namely her oversized bust, could only be the product of some very horny programming, but her boisterous personality and singing voice seemed not just unsuited to a thief, but also, generally, irritating enough to offset whatever she had in terms of looks.

The camera alternated shots from above and below her; from above, it was hard to ignore the huge swell of her bosom, and from below, every minor movement of her plump thighs caused her shamelessly short skirt to slide further down her bottom, revealing more of the dark green, leotard-style bodysuit she wore underneath her outfit. "The gift is mine for the taking! Only I have the ambition to claim this fantastic prize... though I may grab a couple of cookies too, while I'm at it," she chuckled to herself. Either she was speaking to an operator, or she was just the kind of person who talked to herself.

Hood had made it about halfway down the chute when she noticed it seemed to narrow into a square shaped opening, which had passed so quickly that it was hard to tell from the opening footage. "Hmmm... woop!" she chuckled, intending to sweep her whole body through in one quick swing. Instead, her over-sized bosom got stuck on one side, while her waist and legs dangled down, visible kicking just above where the fire had been lit earlier, now suspiciously extinguished. "Aaaah, the perils of being so deadly glamorous," she joked with herself, raising her arms in an attempt to make her profile narrower and finish scooting inside.

"Is somebody out there? Please... I could use some help," a slightly muffled voice came from inside, recognizable as Holly's. It sounded as though she was talking around something and it didn't take much imagination to guess what had happened.

"Help? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Oh no, it seems your misfortune is my fortune! Tied up as I imagine you are, you'll be completely unable to stop my nefarious purposes," Hood guffawed, as though she wasn't, herself, stuck. "I, the master thief, Hood, will make off with all of your valuables! I may even make off with a pair of your panties! Those are probably collector's items, right?" As if hell itself had immediately decided to claim her in retribution for her evil behavior, the fire beneath her suddenly lit up, scorching the tips of her boots. "Gack! Are you really tied up in there? The fire just came on!"

"Didn't you watch the footage?" Holly asked, now sounding more irritated than anything. "The system's gone haywire. Everyone in the plant is being attacked!"

"Y-Yes, but I entered down the chimney! There's no way it could have anticipated my approach!" Hood cried indignantly, omitting the part where she'd been singing loudly earlier to foretell her arrival. "No matter! I'll simply squeeze the rest of the way out..." Immediately in response, the fire seemed to pick up causing her to angle her legs so that they were now spread, holding onto either side of the chimney. The camera managed to grab a very rude shot of this from the front, just outside the fireplace, at a low vantage point. "No! No no! This is ridiculous! What kind of dangerous toy factory is this?!" she complained.

"... You can't really blame this particular part on the system," Holly murmured, barely audible due to the wrap in her mouth. "That's just you getting stuck in a chimney with a fire in it."

"Nonsense! This is devious, too devious!" Hood protested further, wiggling hard. "You know what it is? I got it! It's just this darned belt, my harness, all that stuff. If I get rid of that, it will be easy to squeeze fully through. My great bosom is a boon, not a hindrance!" she boldly proclaimed, dismissing those items immediately. That, of course, made no difference; even with her dress more loose now and the quiver and bow out of the way, the main problem remained her gigantic rack. "Hrrrgh!"

Holly had gone quiet now. She was evidently no longer convinced that she could help Hood, nor that she would be receiving any help from the first one on the scene.

"D-Don't just go quiet like that! I'm going to get through this! It's all this cloth fabric, yes! If I simply get rid of it, I can easily finish pulling through!" she explained, raising one finger unseen behind the chimney wall. She additionally dismissed the hood and the full dress, leaving her in just the skimpy leotard and mask, while her overly flashy, long, blond hair spilled out from behind. "Ha ha ha ha ha... ha!" she cackled, obviously having no greater luck pushing through. "Grrrrr! Aren't you a pro at escaping situations like this already!? Aren't you supposed to be a good person?! It's your duty to help me out of this blasted chimney! Just let me out of here and we'll duel fairly, reasonably!" she complained. "I'll bet you've got your big fat ass stuck in the desk chair, don't you? Ha ha! Not so high and mighty now, hmmmmmm?! A few too many Christmas cookies?!"

"You know, actually, you just about have it. I think if the leotard came off and it was just your bare body, you could probably finish getting through," Holly added, with a flat tone in her voice.

"Of course! I'll use my beach bikini!" Hood announced, dismissing the leotard to leave her in just a scandalously small green thong bikini, with over-sized leaves added over the groin and breasts for whatever reason. These would be familiar only to those who'd tangled with her agitating shenanigans as a thief on the beach before. Regardless, the pose was quite a thing to see, given so little coverage. Also, of course... this new state of dress did nothing to help her finish pulling through. The camera alternated below shots and above shots, where the leafs creased and crumpled apart under the pressure of her bosom rubbing the brickwork of the chimney. The bikini itself began to displace slightly as well with the effort. "You know... I think I may just cut my losses and push back up."

"You do that," Holly recommended.

As Hood pushed up with both her legs and her arms, her own hips made it difficult to squirm up. Furthermore, another unseen development: the tip of her lower leaf had caught fire, eating it from the tip slowly towards the intersection between her legs. "Here we go... Yes... I'm getting it. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! You'll never catch me, Holly!" she bragged, omitting the part where she was leaving empty-handed and had committed no actual theft. "There it... Ah... Aaaaah!! Something's burning me! Help, help!" she protested, shaking her hips and legs frantically in an attempt to put it out. Finally, she stuck one hand down the chimney covering her groin, and dismissed the lower bikini altogether, stopping the fire. Her modesty only protected by one hand, and now more stuck than ever, she carefully angled her hand away from the fire while keeping her legs pressed to either side of the chimney's walls. "... Bah humbug..." she grumbled, finally losing her zest for either boasting or escape. "Can we just go back and I learn a lesson not to steal things, to be a good person, my heart grows three sizes, and all that?"

Finally feeling a pang of sympathy again, Holly spoke up quietly. "Don't worry... We cut the feed. I don't think this is going to be broadcast anywhere."

A big desk at the big entrance to the factory was host to a big woman having a big nap. The table at the front had a festive banner displaying "WELCOME" in bold alternating red and green text. A large escalator behind would lead to the factory proper, so besides the decorations and the sleeping woman, there was no one to be found.

The napper at the desk was really only visible as a Santa-hatted head with a sandy blonde hair poking out all around. Her round, freckled face contracted and released in time with her snores, but her entire face below the nose was wrapped and hidden in a festive red muffler, which she had requested earlier in the night while everyone was still setting up. The rest of her body was hidden behind the sheeted desk, where she was slumped.

A camera was trained on this desk, unmoving, as it had been since Toss had first arrived.

Toss stirred finally, her snores breaking in a snort as drowsily glanced around. No particular sound had woken her up: rather, her instincts as a bounty hunter had jostled her, feeling something off in the air.

In spite of this, Toss nearly shut her eyes and doze off again. The impulse was strong. When she'd arrived much earlier as a bodyguard detail for this event, she'd been excited. Holly had ensured her the fancy new system would take care of everything, so all the would-be bodyguard had to do was man the desk and greet me arrivals. That had left Toss in festive Santa garb not unlike Holly's own, waiting at the desk. There was a fridge with milk and a humongous plate of cookies on the desk, and by keeping an eye on that while people came in, the bounty hunter stood to some easy pocket change and get some gifts for her buddies on the special occasion. Furthermore, Toss wouldn't pass up the chance to have her own fun. She'd taken down the wreath hung over the desk and replaced it with a mistletoe she took from nearby, hoping to spark a romantic adventure on some off chance. At the same time, she grabbed the muffler: assuming the doors would be opening and shutting frequently, Toss decided it'd be smart to insulate herself and avoid a runny nose if she was planning to collect on that mistletoe.

It didn't take long for Toss to abandon that holiday wish. Of course, this was a site on the Net. The only reason she had taken the front door herself was that it was where she'd been told to report. She'd been sitting at the desk with holiday tunes playing non-stop on the nearby speakers, shouting "Free milk!" and "Grab a cookie!" gamely for what felt like hours, with the camera as her only company. Alone and bored out of her skull, it hadn't taken long for Toss to start sampling Holly's cookies. When she ate the first, she couldn't stop, and when she couldn't stop, she had to have milk to wash it down.

All of this played back in Toss's mind as she glanced around for a reason to wake back up. "No cries of terror... no guests... nobody brought any more milk and cookies," she noted, surveying the desk and finding only a couple of empty glasses at one end and the giant platter of crumbs at the other.

Just as she was about to nod off, Toss noted the mistletoe she'd hung was on the desk. Her first thought was it must have fallen... She glanced up, noting the wreath had been hung again. "The heck? And what a crummy job, too!" Whoever had done it had hung it like a halo above the desk, instead of vertically facing the new arrivals.

This made Toss aware of what a sloppy sight her desk probably was now. Her drooling on the tablecloth, empty concessions, and an amateur decoration to boot. If anybody had shown up, she wasn't surprised if they were playing pranks on her rather than giving her kisses.

Toss didn't know who to talk to about more concessions, and while she didn't hear any cries of danger she heard enough activity going on in the distance to reassure her against asking for them. "Yeah, I kind of ate a plate meant for twenty people, think I can get seconds?" she tried in her head, smirking at herself behind the muffler.

The wreath was definitely something she could handle, though, so she pushed up on the table and immediately rose to stand on top of the chair.

"Wh th f-" her muffled voice declared, noting for the first time that four wreaths had actually been installed in a stack. That was the last time she had for idle thoughts, however. The unsuspecting hired hand had no time to even raise her hands for self defense before the entire stack of wreaths fell from above, encircling her like inflatable innertubes. Quickly, she found then to be less like innertubes and more like snares: her arms were pressed against her sides and the wreaths actually seemed to tighten mechanically when they slid to certain positions: one just above her massive chest, one just above, one just above her gut, and a fourth just below. She was at least glad to learn that the needles were synthetic and actually somewhat plush. If they hadn't been, they would have torn her skin running across the bare flesh...

"Wh?!" she cried out again, noticing now as she glanced down that the muffler was the only part of the formerly cozy Santa garb she'd put on earlier that she was still wearing. Instead, she found herself glaring down at her mostly bare freckled and lightly tanned breasts, hidden only at the most critical points by a couple of large pasties in the design of chocolate chip cookies. She could tell from the feel that she at least had the coverage of a pair of panties below, but it was definitely not the skirt she'd fallen asleep in.

The camera had been happy to depict her from a static far shot until now, probably as a measure of saving the surprise. In light of her new predicament, however, it wasted no time in capturing a panning shot up her nearly naked body: first, her bare toes, now rising to tiptoe as the wreath suspension threatened to lift her into the air; next, her plump legs, swinging wildly for a moment but accomplishing nothing more than sending her light metal chair scattering away across the floor; next, a quick detour around back to get a better look at the design of the panties, a silver fabric with a satin sheen covered in sewn-on chocolate chip cookie decorations; then, a brief linger on a "For Santa and his elves" tag that had been attached at the waistband, but which was almost illegible in the shaking of the women's broad behind as she tried to squirm free; then, a swing back around front to pan up from the belly button; a drift back to emphasize the swell of the breasts, with the wreaths cheekily sliding to press them, pull them up, then pull apart and watch them shake back into place; finally, the cameras arrived at the indignant face of the bounty hunter, her eyebrows peaked as she yelled muffled curses and her hat slowly dropped off her head.

Toss had figured out by this point why no one was hearing her: the thick muffler which had protected her from the cold had somehow been bound around her face, preventing her speech from carrying. What she couldn't figure out is why her partner and team coordinator, Pass, wasn't responding to her distress messages. It was easy to imagine that her own operator was busy with festivities, but Pass was almost always watching. "Oh, right. She's watching," Toss realized without amusement, deciding her buddy was definitely on the naughty list for this season.

Suspended in the air, unable to rely on battlechips and tucked away where she thought no one else was likely to go, Toss found herself helpless. She imagined what her partner in bounty hunting, Dart, would think of her getting stripped and bound in a televised holiday-themed event. "Bet she's by the fire with some hot cowoooah!"

Toss's thoughts were cut off as the wreath mechanism suddenly gyrated, shooting her to a horizontal position and rotating her in place. Seeing stars for a moment, she wondered if the tightened muffler was the only thing keeping her from resupplying the milk and cookies she'd eaten earlier herself.

The camera showed a far shot of Toss's predicament for half a minute, leaving her suspended across the length of the table, her chest hanging off the end. It was clear without hearing her that this was just long enough for the bounty hunter to let out a sigh, probably assuming that it was at least over.

"Free milk! Grab a cookie!" her voice suddenly called. Of course, Toss was still bound, but it didnt take her long to figure out what was happening. A muffled groan overlapped with her speech that was now emanating from the loudspeakers, evidently playback from her advertising earlier in the night.

It seemed the speakers would have plenty of material, as it alternated between different samples of her sales pitch. With every "free milk," the camera gave a shot of Toss's hanging breasts, positioned over empty glasses that had been set on the floor out of her view. With every "grab a cookie," the camera took a new angle on the bounty hunter's wiggling butt, which had been set over the tray she'd emptied out before. Experimentally, the wreath over the hips stretched for only a moment to slide down the hips, encircling the legs. As the ring above the belly made it's way to the hips, the hips were forced into the air, pressing the tag offered to Santa into the camera's view.

Her cheeks flushed over the muffler, Toss reflected that this was one particular holiday tradition she was going to give the axe. Eggnog too. And the whole dinner. Y'know, I'm probably over the whole thing in general," she mused grumpily.

The camera focused in on her unamused face as her voice invited any takers to "Come grab a handful of Netiday cheer!"

A small, round stage big enough for about eight Navis to stand comfortably was set up in a portion of the factory, with cherry wood flooring and surrounded by blinking Christmas lights and large, decorative candy cane decorations, looking like they were sprouting from the floor Spotlights over the stage would apparently be used for an upcoming production. A screen display was located just in front of the stage, far enough away that camera angles shouldn't pick it up.

The stage was currently occupied by a karaoke machine, festive red and green plastic with oversized buttons and a curled cord attached to a microphone docked on a clip at the top. A cherry red bar stool was centered on the stage, seating the one who appeared to be the sole performer.

The young woman had a striking appearance, with her black skin that reflected no light and eye whites that appeared to glow. She wore a sparkling, sequined tiara atop a neat platinum-colored bob of hair. Her dress was like a festive sci-fi princess's gown, with a luminous material that swapped between green and red hues and even falling snowflake patterns like an LED board that belled out in a skirt below the knees. It was also decorated with fluffy white frills and large, poofy pompoms in a regular pattern. Her glass slippers had the same light effect, and one of her feet tapped nervous rhythm on the floor below.

The performer's face was locked in a tight frown on her somewhat boyish features, as she coordinated with her producer over messages.

"Yes Glow," she spoke in a husky monotone. "Everything is set up here. No, there is no live audience. Yes, there is karaoke equipment." She paused, her expression softening as she listened. "I understand it's an amateur performance targeted for families, but I'm still unused to being incompletely prepared. I'll keep the advice in mind, thanks." She paused again, clearing her throat. "Yes, it's... I'm sure they'll find it very cute, thank you."

Her face tensed again as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "What I'm more worried about is you. I'm sure you're aware of the reputation these events hosted by Holly carry with them. You aren't holding a forward-facing role, so don't hesitate to jack out at the first sign of trouble." She sighed after another pause, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, I know what they said, and yes, yes, I know. Don't worry about me. For one thing, I already revealed that to the event organizer when applying. And, really, I don't see why anyone would have interest in-"

The girl was cut off as the surrounding lights went out and the single spotlight trained on her. The cameras began switching angles to give the viewers a dynamic look. Still seated at the stool and mid-conversation, her ordinarily half-lidded eyes popped wider as she sprung to her feet and spread her arms wide. "Oh hi there! It's me, one half of the idol group Light Camera! Your sweet strawberry, Mo-chan!" She struck a cute pose, folding her hands below her chin and kicking up one leg, a picture of energy hard to imagine for anyone who'd been watching a moment before. "Hopefully those of you who have been following my solo tour are tuning in again tonight! And hopefully all you kids watching for Santa can spend a little time joining me for a little Netiday karaoke!

"If you don't know what that is, allow me to show you," Mo added with a wink, bending her knees to get the microphone. The camera looked for an angle there, but Mo had put her knees together to hide any accidental exposure. She lifted it up, twirling the cord on her finger. "Karaoke basically means 'sing along!' I'll be singing some of your favorite songs, so join your parents in singing along with me! We're going to start with 'Jingle Bells!' A one, two, three-

"Dashing through the snow
on a one horse open sleigh
over the snow we go
sleighing all the way!"

The idol stepped back and forth as she sang with a big smile. The cameras displayed her from swinging angles while displaying the same lyrics she was reading at the bottom of the screen. Focusing on her own performance, Mo was her own harshest critic: that said, she had to acknowledge the range of movement being limited by the cord and the heeled outfit, so she wasn't too harsh.

"Bells on belltails ring
Making sleighing fun
What... fun it is to sleigh and sing until the fun is done! Oh, Jingle Buh-"

Mo's singing came to an abrupt end as the spotlight and karaoke equipment went dead, a clatter sounding across the floor as she nearly tripped in the dark. There was a long pause before her voice could be heard in a cranky whisper. "Completely unprofessional. Glow, there's some kind of power outage over here. Think the camera's out too. Everything okay where you are? ... Good. The lyrics? Yeah, I'm no expert, but even I know wrong when I hear it. They screw-"

The equipment jumped back to life, revealing Mo standing plainly on the stage with the microphone hanging limply. The lights on her dress had all gone to a blank static pattern, which she noted with an internal sigh, forcing herself to put bounce back in her step. "Hi again, folks! We seem to be having a little technical difficulties..." She trailed off, hitting a realization and working hard to keep her smile on. "Actually, if we have further technical difficulties, parents, maybe consider giving the kids some other classic holiday programming instead? But, for now, thanks for sticking with us. Now, let's get back to- ...Oops. Never mind, it seems we're going onto the next one. 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town!' A one, two, three:

"You better not pout
You better not cry
You better not shout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town~"

Mo made a show of wagging finger gestures to go along with her footwork, oblivious of the fact that the continued deterioration of the light pattern on her dress was starting to fritz out in a couple of small patches, where the static was gave way to squares of clear material that gave glimpses of her shoulders or waist.

"He's making his list
He's checking us twice
He's gonna find out if we're naughty or nice
Santa Claus is coming to town~

He sees us where we're sleeping
He knows that we're awake
He knows that I'm in bed with you
So be good for goodness- Wait-"

The equipment cut off again. Mo let out a groan and spoke more quickly this time. "Ugh... Glow, somebody's playing some kind of prank. There really is no reason to keep playing along with- Glow? Are you-"

The spotlight came back on. Mo was immediately aware that the candy cane accessories that had been scattered before now formed a wall encircling the stage and the karaoke screen, their tips pulling in to form spikes like whittled-down peppermint sticks. There were spaces between, but likely not enough to squeeze through. Furthermore, her dress pattern had whittled down to a couple of conservative red bands hiding her chest and hips, the rest of the fabric excluding the trim and doodads being entirely clear.

"If there are any kids still watching, ask your parents if Rudolph is on, okay?" Mo implored sweetly, clapping her hands together and smiling before her eyelids lowered and her smile tightened. "Look, whoever is doing this, let's give it a rest, okay? I'm not getting paid for this, so I'm going to let you have your fun alone. Happy Netidays and goodnight."

The young women's eyes sharpened as the camera zoomed in and displayed new lyrics, even though she was only reading aloud. "'AND LEAVE HER BEHIND?' You bastard... whoever you are, get these walls out of my way. 'SING THE NEXT SONG.' Now you suddenly want me to sing, huh?... What. 'My Lips on Christmas Eve.' Are you serious? I suppose you are, here come the lyrics...

Mo began speaking the lyrics the best she could to the slow, sax-heavy music she was now hearing, as she couldn't be expected to know the tune herself. "Baby put the cocoa down, and let's enjoy the night. I've got a pair of loving lips for you, to kiss and tease and bite-"

The candy sticks around her rose higher. Mo pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled. "What do you want? I'm singing these asinine lyrics. 'A performance.' All right, what the hell. I'm hoping this isn't being televised, but in all seriousness, folks, put the kids to bed if you haven't. This is some truly horrifying nonsense."

Clearing her throat again, Mo adopted a sultry tone that was a surprisingly natural fit for her voice, even if obviously wasn't practiced.

"Baby, put the cocoa down
And let's enjoy the night
I've got a pair of lovin' lips for you
To kiss and tease and bite~"

Mo experimented with leaning forward here, batting her eyelashes and manipulated her mouth into pursed lips or clicking teeth as appropriate while holding the mic with both hands.

"No fireplace can heat me up
I need that special treat
You know the sweet, sweet jumbo candy cane
Is all I wanna eat. For Pete's sake."

Mo muttered at the end, having a tough time keeping up showmanship in light of what she was being asked to perform. She vowed to push through, summoning all of her power to avoid rolling her eyes.

"When I get it past these lips
You'll get your sweet treat, too
Roll it round till all the red is off
Get that white, sticky..."

Mo had been putting her effort into the performance, showcasing her pink tongue to the camera against the stark black of her face. Her eyes, however had been trained on the candy cane barrier, noticing it lowering at her more spirited performance.

With the tips now just below the knees, she made a running leap for them, intending to soar over the fence and figure out what had happened to Glow. To her horror, she learned that the rising speed when she stopped singing was much more rapid than the lowering for her efforts. The flying idol clenched her teeth and screwed her eyes shut, anticipating being skewered on the spikes.

Instead, a hole was punched though the fabric of the front of her skirt, the spikes rising on each side of each leg. The spikes stopped there before reaching the back, causing her to cease momentum and fall forward until she was suspended upside down. The idol slid down the pole on her face, gravity pulling the skirt down to expose her flat behind and white fit shorts stark against her bare legs. The camera tracked this with the unfortunate "GET THAT STICKY WHITE GOO" still plastered across the bottom.

When the hole got large enough, the skirt finally tore from the penetration to the lip, depositing Mo in a splayed heap on the floor. The lights had all come back on, conveniently for the camera that got good shots of her embarrassment, except for the front of her shorts.

"Glow? Oh thank God you got out," Mo spoke from the floor, not even rising in her shock. "Yes, I suppose in that way it was good we were communicating. ..No, I guess it probably would have let up if I changed, but I get the feeling that could have just ended up worse. Although, uh, did you hear that last song? ...No? Good. Look, I'm gonna sign out for the night. Merry Netidays to you too."

The young woman made a weary sigh that sounded past her age, then noted the camera with shock. "U-uh... if any fans are still watching at home, happy Netidays from your favorite idol! Thanks for your support! Don't save this recording!"

From the moment that Holly had announced the latest Netiday special, NetPolice girls had known that, apart from whatever roles they were asked to play, they should also be prepared to launch a rescue mission if the need arose. Hearing that the security system for the toy factory was supposed to prevent such occurrences only made the worst possible scenario seem more likely. It was for this reason that DimensionGirl and her compatriot, DimensionGirl White, assembled outside the Toy Factory at a beach point through the factory floor.

"Still no word back from Bayonet or Garde?" the senior of the two officers asked. Despite her senior status, she looked a bit younger, clad in a slick, safety-orange colored costume, which sported roughly the same coverage as a one piece swimsuit, along with gloves, boots, a yellow belt, and a sort of crash helmet with an oversized black visor. A chromatic, silver bazooka was strapped horizontally at her back by a black harness running beneath the chest. Her gorgeous, lengthy blond hair and cute, slender figure made her the object of affection for anyone familiar with the DimensionMan comics, but these days, she also served the NetPolice.

"Nothing at all. Communications could be getting jammed or redirected... Either that or they just aren't checking them, but that's not like Bayonet," the second DimensionGirl pointed out. This flavor of DimensionGirl sported the exact same body and face, but with a serrated night's visor, a white suit with a few pieces of additional armor, and bobbed brown hair. Her weapons of choice were the DimensionBlade, which would reveal itself upon one of her arms if ever she called it, and a small, pentagon-shaped shield strapped to one of her bracers.

"We'll have to enter. Let's keep our guard up! Teleport when possible. We may be able to confuse the security system!" she pointed out. "With any luck, it won't spot our entry."

Had any girl been lucky at one of these events, least of all tonight? As such it ought to have come as no surprise when the two teleported in, only to find nutcrackers holding tall curtains circling the room, as if in wait for their entrance. The two were immediately covered and then, in a net-magical motion, their various armor pieces were replaced with alternating reindeer costumes. For DimensionGirl, this included an antler headband, a choker with an over-sized, round bell, and a brown, faux-fur bikini, with a V shaped bottom and no gloves or boots. For the White, it meant matching antlers, but with an outfit including suspenders designed like reindeer reins with bells lining them, running from the shoulders to buckle onto booty shorts, brown in color, with a shiny sheen and a fuzzy reindeer bobtail on the back. Evidently, she didn't get shoes either.

The two were more or less expecting something like this, but were pleased to find their weapons still in tact. With gusto, White slashed the head off one nutcracker, while Classic dispatched the other using her famous DimensionBazooka. "Sheesh... what gaudy costumes. Don't people normally start in some cute pajamas or something for these events?" she protested.

"Yeah... Anyway, we can handle these schmucks. Let's just try not to get surrounded. That would be even more predictable," White sighed, as the two of them made their way across the dark factory floor towards the center, where they presumed they would find Holly, if not also the missing NP girls.

Before they could make it there, they noticed two disturbances. The first, evident from a good distance away, was the chaos of explosions coming from shortly ahead. The second: a giant santa sleigh exhibit met their eyes at the exit, going from the factory to the main hall. The giant double doors were closed and across the room rode, in suspended animation, a jolly, fat Santa. His host of reindeer was a little lacking, however... the harnesses of all of them were empty, save just one.

At the front left, Garde was buckled in, restricted by the rather elaborate leather harness in a manner that locked her legs together bent at the knees and her hands forward, so that her but stuck out and she was left kneeling. What had looked like a harness without its host was really more like a bondage device when fully applied. This extended all the way to her mouth, which held a candy-cane striped, cylindrical gag, designed to be bit down upon. She wouldn't be able to get it off without unbuckling it from behind.

The girl herself wore her hair in massive blond curls, notable in their size despite only reaching about to the nape of her neck. She had the kind of figure she probably would have rather kept concealed, more soft than appropriate for a swordsman, with erotic, chubby thighs. Very little was concealed right now, as only the parts of the harness that covered her breasts were really working to that effect. Her bottom seemed fully bare, such that a bad camera swing would reveal her from certain angles.

"Officer Garde!" DimensionGirl gasped, taken aback by the indecency of it all, before teleporting forward to undo the gag and the rest of the bondage. "What in the world happened?"

"Well, apparently ze Netiday sweater I brought wasn't festive enough," Garde responded in her exaggerated accent, as the gag came out of her mouth. Free of her various bindings, she let the harness continue to drape across her breast and let the rest sit in a pile between her legs for decency's sake.

"W-well, I more so meant, were you and Bayonet separated? I expected to find you together," DimensionGirl amended her earlier question.

"Oui, zoe sneaky bastards snuck up and subdued me while she ran off!"

"Oh, that explains it. She is quite skillful," White pitched in.

This seemed to rub Garde very much the wrong way; those with prior experience dealing with the eccentric officer would probably remember her intense, one-sided rivalry with Bayonet. "... Say, have you two girls ever watched one of zese specials before?" she questioned, suddenly curious.

"Just enough to know the general gist of what happens to most women in them," White responded.

"So you didn't see or really hear about what Bayonet did ze last time she was on?"

"Nope, can't say we did!"

"Ah, ah, oui. Well," Garde smirked, "I believe zat the culprit behind all of zis is in ze next room! You'll know because she is dressed up just like ze nutcrackers all over ze toy factory! Please return my humiliation to her and at ze same time you may end all of zis!" Garde ordered her allies misleadingly.

Nodding, the two girls entered into the next room, carefully, cracking the unlocked door slightly and skirting around it with their backs to the wall. The next room was truly a chaotic scene, as most of the toy factory's nutcrackers had assembled upon the stairway leading up to Holly's room. In the center or the ornate double staircases, standing on a stage like arrangement amidst a pile of broken nutcrackers, a figure was grandly holding one finger outward.

The figure, of course, was Waltz... which is to say it was Bayonet wearing a Christmas costume. Hers was a red leotard with a white bandolier strap across her expansive chest, an outfit which showed off her toned, shapely legs and biceps well. Knee-high black boots, elbow-length white gloves, and a tall, black guard's hat made up the rest of the outfit, completed by a white eye-mask to conceal her identity (if rather ineffectively). Between her figure and her glamorous brown hair, albeit loose instead of in its usual braid, her real identity was still pretty apparent.

Of course, with limited time to assess a combat situation, framing makes all the difference. With a bit more time, the DimensionGirls probably would have realized Bayonet was missing and that the figure in the center looked a lot like her. Instead, they saw an unharmed figure dressed in nutcracker gear standing amidst a bunch of nutcrackers and assumed the worst.

"You go left, I'll go right!" DimensionGirl instructed, before vanishing into a white-and-black rift she opened to one side. White nodded, doing the same on the opposite side. Quickly, the two popped out on either side of their unsuspecting ally. Waltz immediately noted the bazooka and summoned her own bayonet-tipped rifle, swiping it down to redirect the shot towards the floor. In the mean time, White summoned her blade, using it to cut a long arc. All it managed to do was cut the bandolier, as Waltz marched forward and pressed DimensionGirl toward the wall.

There was a moment of confusion as the three all sized up each other's odd costumes, with Bayonet sandwiches between two DimensionGirls. "You...!" the Internal Affairs bigwig cursed quietly.

"Ooooh!" both DimensionGirls called out in unison, as the three person sandwich became a many nutcracker dogpile, with each of the robotic dolls lashing out to pinch whatever they could with their clicking hands and jaws. In no time at all, they had Waltz out of 90% of her clothing, leaving her only a set of adult, black, semi-sheer panties and tattered traces of gloves and boots. Despite her bucking her head, the gag and harness were on soon enough.

In the nick of time, the DimensionGirls managed to teleport out, each holding onto the other in an awkward hug. "Y-You know... what we need here is reinforcements!" the bikini clad one suggested.

"Yeah, the issue here is really the numbers," the one in short shorts agreed, trying to gloss over their previous blunder that had cost Bayonet her advantageous position. As the nutcrackers fixed a red ball nose and antlers onto Bayonet's face and head, she wrung her hands and winced. "Nooo, I'm gonna be on the disciplinary list again!" White complained loudly. "This is really Garde's fault!"

A break in the feed followed, then proceeded further by a shot of the santa sleigh again, now with four mostly naked girls as reindeer. Bayonet brought up the front with Garde, while DimensionGirl and DimensionGirlWhite made up the back. The front girls were nude apart from the antlers, harnesses, and Bayonet's nose. The back had been similarly stripped down. "I... managed to get free of the harness, but the camera is on us..." DimensionGirl white pointed out.

Bayonet grunted something about how theh should simply jack out, then something much more alarmed as she felt herself mounted from behind. Each of the DimensionGirls had taken up a spot, mounting the senior officer in front of them like a mating reindeer.

"I'm so sorry... but they're spinning the camera," White pointed out, as the viewpoint indeed spun to reveal the nude backsides of each DimensionGirl, with only certain spots covered with their hands. "We have to cover our fronts and if you two are bent over, you need your butts covered or everyone will see... well, you know, right?"

Bayonet gave another loud growl of protest, perhaps asking for one of them to use a DimensionBlade to cut her free so that she could being punishment against not only the nutcrackers, but also the DimensionGirls and Garde as well, before the screen blinked a few times and then cut out.

Another lost piece of footage reveals a darkened section of the factory. Somewhere in the distance, the muffled sounds of... something dubious... barely carry through to the otherwise silent space. The dim shapes of conveyor belts and packing machines can be made out, and other shapes too obscured to identify take up place along the walls and between the rows.

Three loud impacts sound, before a thick wall panel bursts away, and two shapes move cautiously into the room. One leads, the poor lighting showing a toned and fit profile and an otherwise fairly average build; a feminine figure, but listing towards the slightly boyish side of things. Just behind her, a second woman, much more obviously feminine, follows and pauses to look around. She seems taller, but is only really so by virtue of tall heels.

“The things I let you drag me into. We aren't even in control of this one.” The voice sounds refined, educated and deeply unimpressed with her surroundings. The other woman turns back.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. If intel is right, there are some people really in trouble here this time around. The lines went dead just a few minutes in, and nothing's been heard since.” She pauses to put one hand to her ear. “Hey pervert. You have a bead on Holly yet? She'll be at the centre of this.” They begin to move through the room, picking their way past conveyors and other pieces of machinery. “And maybe get us some lights?”

“Actionable gratitude is an asset, but you know I'm really just here for more of Holly's cookies. I'm sure the rescues will be grateful, but it's almost sinful how good those are.” The haughtier of the two women laughs to herself in the darkness, though the other doesn't seem to share her mirth.

Just as they cross the floor towards a far doorway, at the top of a raised platform on the far side of the room, the lights in the chamber flicker on. The camera gets its first decent look at the pair. One is dressed in a stylish women's business blazer and suit, complete with a golden name pin on one lapel; the outfit defines her figure, accentuating her feminine features without detracting from the deeply wolfish and predatory way she carries herself. The red high heels compliment wavy brown hair and deep blue eyes as well as giving her an extra couple of inches over her companion.

The other woman is dressed in green camouflage pants with multiple pockets, and a t-shirt in a matching forest green, with an anarchist icon on the front. She seems to have gone without her usual beret today, and short, rough-cut red hair contrasts her other dress colours in a coincidentally seasonally appropriate style.

Both women immediately adopt their own versions of ready stances; for the anarchist it is an obvious fighting pose, while the other stands straight and draws herself up, one hand behind her back and the other close in front of her, as though she might be about to snap her fingers. The camera changes viewpoints a few times in silence, and the extra lighting shows that there are several other exits from the room, each sealed at ground level with heavy iron doors.

“You aren't normally that obliging without snark. Tell me that was you, Cryptic.” The business woman seemed more tense as she snapped the words. “No, I don't care to hear about the security system, or how fascinating it is. Just make sure nothing—” Her words are cut off as the conveyors and machines on the factory floor grind to life and noise. A rustling of tinsel begins as strands of it begin tumbling out of the many sacks scattered around the room, snaking towards the two intruders. Against the walls, a dozen previously inert nutcracker dolls spring to activity, mouths opening and closing as the whirr of ribbon spools winding up joins the other sounds. One camera catches the view of a grin crossing the anarchist's lips.

“I think a factory boss somewhere is about to suffer some shrinkage...” The smaller woman cases the movement quickly, stepping a brief circle while her friend followed suit to keep their backs to one another. The business woman is also assessing, and seems strangely calmer now that she can do so.

“You're mixing your terms, dear.” She takes a small, measured step and swiftly stamps a heel point through the centre of the first tinsel rope that tries to entangle her. “But I agree. Trash them.”

Just as a serious fight breaks out in the factory room, panels light up across the ceiling, beginning to form a light display in red, green and white. Festive music fills the room; a traditional tune, on traditional instruments, but remixed to a catchy, energetic beat. An instant later, as these new stimuli are just being noticed by both women, then panels beneath each of their feet blink out.

The business women falls, hissing in surprise. A finger-snap is heard and a flurry of virtual zenny surrounds the woman, but before she can teleport back to safety, a jolly, booming laugh rolls over the speakers and the image of a sack of presents materialises, swatting her back down the shaft with all the retaliatory force of a pinball plunger.

“Zenny! Hells...” Not far away, the other woman has already caught herself from falling by summoning a long, sturdy banner to brace the gap with, and vaulting herself back up to stand on on of the factory machines. The two holes close again in an instant and the music resumes. “Keep an eye on her, Cryptic. I've got this here until you you can help her get back...” She spins the banner once in her hand and begins bobbing her head slightly to the festive music beat. The nutcrackers start to close in, and the conveyor belts start, rolling out even more. “Alright then... bring it.” She is grinning as she launches towards the nearest set of nutcrackers, banner spinning in a fending display before slamming the first one into broken pieces. The cameras cut away... for now...

==

A slowly panning camera looks out across a chamber lit mostly by the shafts of light infiltrating it from further up in the factory. The netiday theme is not absent, however; piles of discarded detritus fill the room like rubbish heaps, but they are comprised of torn wrapping paper, tangled bundles of tinsel stripped by equally tangled sellotape, brightly decorated cardboard boxes that have been torn apart or unfolded, and amongst them, battered wreaths, broken nutcracker dolls, damaged baubles and other discarded miscellany.

Into this pit, a female figure drops, her indignant shriek long since ended. Despite the speed and force of her descent, she manages to land with a stable, solid impact, crouched low to the ground and with one knee down, but her high heels denting the metal ground where their stiletto tips create dramatic points of pressure. She stands more slowly, trying to straighten her business blazer and dust down her skirt, but the professional attitude is marred by a darkly muttered string of particularly vulgar curses. One knee of her tights has clearly picked up a dramatic ladder. With an irritated gesture her left and snaps a click directed at herself, but nothing happens. She clicks again.

“The hell is this, Cryptic? If you are—” she stops as the piles of broken holiday junk begin to move. “Zenith, my— Zenith? Bloody hell. Cryptic, my comms are completely down. If you don't fix this right now—” A hand gesture from her summons an assortment of faceless, black-suit-wearing retainers that take up a diamond around the woman, but as they pull weapons and begin attacking the moving piles, it seems clear that they aren't up to the task alone.

The lurching mounts rise up, and cracked baubles begin to arc towards the centre of the room, each one busting into glittering shards that dazzle, while circular wreaths fly inwards on more direct lines, restraining limbs and capturing the figures in rapid succession. As each one is overcome, they break apart into piles of virtual Zenny, clearly constructs rather than actual navigators or support programs. The attacking holiday ornaments refocus as jolly laughter comes from a hidden speaker.

“Ho, ho! Such naughty language! Show some holiday spirit now!!” A chime follows the words and several of the shambling mounds spit out broken-looking nutcrackers. Each is functional enough to open its mouth and assault the struggling woman with streams of red ribbons from multiple angles. Snarling, she raises a hand in a back-handing motion and a thick wall springs up about her; the walls are transparent, with a digital honeycomb pattern, but the outside bears scrolling text demanding “5000z for premium access”. Most of the ribbons batter against the paywall, but after a few seconds, they begin to break through at last – several score across her front, others across the small of her back. They attempt to wrap about her arms, but she throws them off with more, increasingly violent motions.

When the first volley of ribbons fall to the ground, however, the woman looks down and curses again; wherever the red ribbons landed, her fancy business attire has been thoroughly ruined; her midriff exposes soft, pale skin, and the undersides of lacy black lingerie covering the swell of her breasts. Further down, her skirt is torn to the point of nearly falling off, and the camera flicks perspective and zooms in, capturing a peek of her increasingly torn tights, and matching black lace lingerie underneath.

She snaps her fingers, but still her outfit doesn't change. Another volley of crystal baubles scatter into the air all around, busting like festive grenades, and sparkling lights frame the room again; the cameras don't seem fazed by this, but the woman is clearly struggling to see properly. The rainbow glitter settles over everything as a faint ringing of sleigh bells begins to play over the speakers. the music drowns out another string of curses and oaths as the damaged ornaments continue to assault their victim, never seeming to harm, except to destroying her outfit and begin replacing it with elements of a new one.

Within another minute, the woman stands, turning about herself in an effort to see where the next attack will come from. Rather than her formal business outfit, she has been reduced to something far less decent, and the cameras in the room angle and zoom to get a good appraisal. Tiny sleigh bells have been threaded through her hair, making it jingle merrily with every twist and shake of her head. Bracelets about her wrists also carry bells, mounted on red ribbon strands, with a second set tied around her upper arms to match. Her shoulders are bare, and the only support garment that has been allowed her is a broad red band of ribbon that splits across the front; it fails to hid the fullness of her breasts, and would even fail to hide her nipples, if not for the festive clips that have been affixed there, forming small covers that each have a bell mounted on them. It does, indeed, seem to support her bosom adequately, but each tiny motion brings more jingling, and the clips seem to be placed quite firmly on her sensitive areas.

Another ribbon, mounted with bells has been tied about her middle, and a another around her somewhat broader hips... however, the only thing left covering her modestly below the waist are individual ribbons of bells that hang down from the waist band – just a few in front and just one behind. It's clear that she's been deprived of anything else. She also sports similar cuffs of ribbons about each thigh and each ankle, and oddly, the assaulting security system seems to have left her her high heels.

“I swear to all that is... If you are behind this, you freak, I'll.... ugh... fix this, or I'm leaving, right now!!” The speaker blares to life again, cutting her off.

“Ring in the season, with joy and sharing!! Show love to your—” it crackles briefly and a different voice takes its place.

“Chill, Zenny... The system isn't dangerous. It just wants to have a bit of fun. Stop being such a frig—” a brief static break, “—yke about it, and just relax. Besides, if you jack out now, Uprising will get all the rescue kudos. I'm sure you'd rather the victims spend all their gratitude thanking the magnanimous and philanthropic Zennocracy, wouldn't you? Just put up with it.” The static returns for an extra few moments, before the booming, merry voice picks up again. “—and enjoy your candy, Ho, ho, ho!!”

Finished dressing her, the festive decorations back off for a few seconds, and Zennocracy is left gritting her teeth and trying not to move too much. She doesn't answer right away, but a look of cold fury, followed by dark resignation flashes across her features. She growls in her throat, then curses again.

“I am not letting that little trull win again...” After another moment, she sniffs and regains something of her haughty expression. “You're recording this, aren't you, you creep?” She doesn't appear to receive any kind of response. “Bastard...”

A doorway lights up as the piles of refuse settle back to stillness and Zennocracy tentatively creeps forward, moving with a slowness and care that is clearly related to the myriad of bells festooning her body now. She shifts every few moments, and lifts a hand towards her chest, but forces it back down again; as easy as it might be to pull the clips off her sensitive chest, it would probably get the system riled up again.

The doorway leads through to a clean, white space, with a long narrow corridor that begins to rise upwards as it curves around out of sight. the only object in the room is heavy-set two-person motor bike, dressed up to look like an old wooden sleigh. It's set into a recess in the floor, and is connected to it by an anchored metal strut – the design is similar to a remote controlled car on a toy electric track. A data barrier is raised across the corridor further onward, with a text note surrounded by mistletoe and bells.

“Maintenance Bay 3: Please use the vehicle provided to return to the main factory floor.” Zenny looks at the sign and tests the barrier with a finger, withdrawing it with a strong electrical crackle, then sighs and returns to inspect her ride. With more mutterings about perverts, she gingerly climbs aboard; the camera in the room zooms in to get brief glimpses underneath the strings of bells as she is forced to shift them out of the way to sit. Before gripping the handles properly, she seems to think better of it and moves one of the front strips to firmly place multiple layers of fabric between the bike and and potential intrusions on her womanhood. The cameras are rewarded with another series of brief glimpses as she takes care of this detail.

She barely seems surprised when, upon taking the seat and gripping the handles, fixtures in the sleigh-bike spring to life. Runs of reinforced ribbons shoot from one small opening into another all across the bike, binding her wrists to the handles, and her ankles into their own positions as well. further restraints secure her waist and hips, and the text on the data wall changes to read “Safety first; strap in tight!” With a mocking cascade of bells. Zenny gives the restraints an experimental tug and mutters under her breath.

“Right, let's get this over with. Bloody perverts everywhere. Holiday season my ars— Hrk!!” A back shot from the camera shows a prominent shot of the woman's bare behind, exposed clearly by the seating angle of the contraption, and though it can mostly only catch sight of the strings of ribbons and bells covering the business portion of her behind, it swiftly becomes clear that her preventive measures only protected one entry from intrusion, leaving the back entrance to be unexpectedly exploited.
The sleigh-bike begins to move forward, though not at a smooth pace. Instead, it adopts a rolling, rising and falling rhythm, like an amusement ride only faster and with a more pronounced bounce to it. Each motion draws an undignified gasp from the woman, and a merry jingling of bells as her body is bounced up and down in its restraints along with the motion of her ride.

“Hrkk... Ah... I swear... Nghh... I swear, you creep... Ahh... If any of this... Aghnn... If any of this is your doing, I'm going to... Nghh... Tear off... Aghh... Every one of your... Ahhn...” Her complaints trail away as the dubious vehicle rocks her gradually out of sight up the corridor, bells ringing at a merry pace all the way.

==

The other would be rescuer seems to be faring better in later footage of another factory room. A crash of shattering parts resounds amidst the metallic shrieks of something being torn from its housing. This room is decked with festive lights and cheery displays, but the various machines continue to churn out suspiciously active holiday wreaths and weapons-grade candy canes, ready to hand for a continuing flow of animated, person-sized toys that emerge steadily from different doors around the sides of the room.

Uprising herself fights steadily through the chamber, weaving in amongst the close-range toys while trying to avoid the sniping ribbons and binding tinsel snakes that attack from further off and unexpected angles. Her banner spins with flair and precision, shattering the constructs it strikes, but the young woman's appearance is not as untouched as it was in the first recording. Her pants have been partially ripped away, leaving all of one leg and part of the other exposed beneath the shredded remnants. In brief glimpses, the camera catches flashes of simple, green cotton underwear.

Her shirt has suffered in a similar way, and more so; several broad gashes in the fabric leave clear sights of the pale skin underneath, and the entire upper left section of it has been shredded and ripped away. Dangling tatters of white underneath suggest that she was wearing a simple, supporting chest bind under the shirt, but that, too has been ripped sufficiently to no longer hold; instead, where the shirt is destroyed, there remains nothing at all to cover the left side of her chest and the camera zooms in whenever the girl's moving form slows enough to give it a good shot of the modestly small palm-full that is openly exposed.

The details doesn't seem to be bothering Uprising as she continues to battle her way towards the far door. Her face is flushed a warm pink, and her eyes sparkle with excitement and spirit above a fierce, exuberant grin. Far from bothered, in fact, she almost seems to be enjoying herself rather too much. A keen eye might notice that her progress towards the next door is not rushed; she could move quicker, but is taking time to fight everything that presents itself to her as she goes.

“Hahh... Come on, Santa! Where's your big guns!?” There is an earnest heat in her voice as she calls out to the room in between sweeping the space around her clear again and fending another bolt of ribbon with her banner. The action looks almost practiced now as she binds the end of it in the banner's shaft and whips the nut-cracker shooting it towards her before it can cut the tape. Her foot takes its head and torso apart from the rest of it in a flash.

“Happy holidays indeed! I haven't had this much fun in weeks!!” She sounds almost out of breath, but it doesn't seem to be from any kind of fatigue. The flush on her features doesn't bear any other sign of exertion or sweating. A few seconds later, a luck rope of tinsel snakes its way in and manages to coil about her still-clothed leg. Uprising is swift to tear it free, but not before it manages to shred away the remainder of her pants, up to the belt. She seems unbothered about fighting in literally her underwear now, and continues with the same eager spirit as before, but the camera zooms in as she lands astraddle another large toy and punches her fist through its chest; The camera zooms first to her midsection, then dips lower to get a close up of the font of her panties; there is a distinct dark patch at the lowest point, spreading outward, and a reflection of light picks out a small glisten creeping out at the very tops of her thighs. The shot only lasts a moment before the warrior jumps clear again, moving on to her next target.

==

The view shifts, another room; a rising set of stairs on one side bears a sign pointing towards the factory's business offices. Festive streamers and other decorations here more closely resemble the shots seen in other clips, nearer to the start of the event's recording. Uprising is still moving through the room, where toy-sorting tables are arrayed about a myriad of different chutes and pipes, each covered in dozens, if not hundreds, of soft toys. A number of cosy, holiday-themes fireplaces, complete with hanging stockings, line the walls, each one big enough to actually serve as discard furnaces for toys that don't pass muster.

The freedom fighter is not alone as she moves, of course; her every step continues to be harried and assailed by security constructs, and she continues to trash them with eager force. The security system only seems to have made a little progress on her since the last set of footage; the rest of her clothing, save her green panties, has been stripped away, and the various toys and decorations seem to be attempting to dress the girl up in something new, but any time they land something decorative, she pulls it off again. The only concession Uprising seems to have made is where something has managed to fasten a festive green wreath about her chest, barely covering the median line of her breasts; she appears happy to allow that particular part of whatever outfit it is attempting to build on her.

A carol starts playing as she reaches the middle of the chamber, heading towards the stairs; an old one, delivered in a crooning feminine voice, with suspicious lyrics. Uprising is laughing, breathless and flushed.

“Hahh... It's a pity none of you have...” She calls out to the room, and the various animate toys, though it almost sounds like she's talking to herself. She punctuates the unfinished sentence by cleaving another nutcracker directly up through the groin with her banner. Just as she does, the carol music grows louder, and more soft toys begin to drop from the chutes, filling the sorting tables to overflow and spilling them out onto the floor. They begin to move, swarms of tiny plush figures climbing over each other to reach the one who, from the perspective of a completely responsible security system, still isn't dressed correctly.

A door beneath the stairs slides open to admit a new toy; this one is larger than the standard nutcrackers. It seems to be a large stuffed bear, dressed in a red sweater with a pointed green tree on the front. the presence of the sweater only draws attention to its lack of pants, where it has been gifted silicone enhancements that its fuzzy body originally lacked. Rather than a hat, it wears a large bronzed bell on its head, which bongs in a jolly manner each time it takes a heavy step towards her.

“Fuck me....” Uprising looks at the single-minded good-news bear with an expression somewhere between amusement, incredulity and something that might even be hunger. She leaps back onto one of the sorting tables, sweeping off more of the much smaller stuffed toys, but they continue to swarm back, clambering up her legs and helpfully tugging at her one remaining personal garment. With last, breathy laugh, the girl throws up her hands and shifts her hips enough to relinquish the dampened fabric to their efforts. She drops down to sit on the edge of the sorting table as the plush toys swarm over her, attempting to dress her up in their own version of holiday attire – the chest wrath is removed in preparation for something else, but uprising just drops back to lie on the pile of soft toys, and speaks towards the ceiling of the room.

“No, seriously. Fuck me. It's not what I was hoping for, but I'll take it... I am so ready for this right now...” With no more violent denial, the swarm of plush toys start redressing her as the large one approaches, but, almost as if taking her concession under advisement, they spend more effort rubbing themselves against her chest than dressing it, and they leave her hip region conspicuously bare. Or is that bear?