Sugar Squad

Chapter 4 - The Problem Post

My life is officially a prison now. And my prison cell is a shoe.

Bel woke in darkness. The suffocating weight on his chest was gone; Cinnamon’s foot had finally lifted. He lay on the fuzzy floor of her slipper, gasping.

His entire body ached. His face felt raw from where her toes had gripped him. Every breath still tasted like her foot.

A shout thundered from outside. “On your feet, everyone! Move it!”

The slipper jerked. Bel’s stomach dropped as he was launched into the air. He tumbled across the wooden floor like a discarded toy. His shoulder hit first, then his hip, then his head bounced off the boards.

“Ow! Fuck!” He groaned and looked up just in time to see Cinnamon sitting on the edge of her bed.

She reached up for her nightstand, grabbed something, then propped her right foot on her left knee.

Bel’s stomach sank. Oh no. What is she doing now?

She began her morning routine. First with a rough cloth, she wiped down her sole in long strokes. Even from this distance, Bel could see the cloth picking up faint grey smudges as well as slipper residue.

I was sleeping against that level of…? He bit his lip hard, desperate not to gag.

Next came powder. She puffed it between her toes and worked it in with her fingers, humming. Then she grabbed a metal can from the nightstand and shook it. Bel watched in horrified fascination as she aimed the can at the bottom of her foot. A hissing sound filled the air, followed by mist coating her sole.

She hummed louder, rotating her foot to get every angle.

Bel’s curiosity overrode his dread and disgust for just a moment. “What is that?”

Cinnamon froze mid-spray. Her eyes found the floor. She’d clearly forgotten he was even there.

“It’s just…” She lowered her foot, her face flushing. “It’s maintenance. Helps keep my feet in optimal condition for missions. Gotta control bacterial growth, of course.”

A devilish smirk spread across Bel’s face. “Right. Maintenance for Cheesefoot, huh?”

“You add a ‘Captain’ in there, you hear?” she snarled, her face turning bright red. “And you are on very thin ice, mister!”

She snapped her fingers. He stumbled as he returned to his normal size.

“You have five minutes to clean yourself before I resize you and make you live in my shoe for the rest of the day,” she hissed, pointing towards the hallway.

“Am I gonna be going home?” he asked.

“No, you’re not.” She grabbed a towel to pat her feet dry. “Just listen to me. It’s not hard.”

“You realise you still kidnapped me, woman?” He put his hands on his hips. “The least you can do is tell me what’s going on. Where are we going? Why am I stuck here?”

Cinnamon took a deep breath, visibly struggling to regain her composure. She finished drying her feet and tossed the spray can and powder back onto the nightstand.

“Even if we wanted to bring you home right now, it’s impossible.”

“Because?”

“Because sending you out there in the state you’re in would be a disservice to you, your family and us.” She crossed her arms. “And to be honest, Santa Claus won’t allow it. He’s made that very clear.”

Bel watched in disbelief as she turned to her closet. “So I’m being held prisoner here by Santa? The nice guy?”

“Yes. But not forever.”

Another voice startled Bel. Marshmallow was peeking into the room, her expression sympathetic. “Honestly, this is more a punishment for us than it is for you.”

She approached him with a hot rag in her hands. Before he could protest, she grabbed his face and started scrubbing. He struggled in her grip, for she was deceptively strong.

“Either you go home the same grumpy human you were,” she said gently, dabbing at his cheek. “Or you go back as the best boy in your whole city. We’re your sisters now, Bel. Like it or not.”

He opened his mouth to come up with a retort yet found nothing.

“I scrubbed you extra hard,” she whispered playfully, leaning in close, “so your face wouldn’t reek of you-know-what.”

“You’re whispering like I can’t hear you!” Cinnamon groaned from the closet, making Marshmallow giggle.

---

After washing the rest of his body in the bathroom, Bel made his way to the breakfast table.

The four girls were already seated. In the centre of the table sat a mountain of thick, fluffy pancakes, absolutely drenched in syrup. His stomach growled despite everything. He grabbed a plate and started to retreat towards a corner.

“Ah-ah-ah, not so fast.” Ginger’s arm wrapped around his neck from behind, pulling him back. “House rules: we eat together.”

“Your seat is down there, Belial.” Cinnamon pointed beneath the table with her tail. “Go on.”

Bel sighed heavily. Great. Reserved seating in the land of gnarly toes.

Grabbing his small plate and a tiny bottle of milk, he crawled into the forest of legs beneath the table. Forty toes… He questioned how long his sanity would remain intact.

“You have to work your way up to sitting at the table with the grown-ups,” Cinnamon declared from above.

“That’s right,” Ginger added.

Bel tried to settle into a spot near the table’s centre. He cut his first piece of pancake and raised it to his mouth when movement caught his eye.

Ginger’s bare foot descended into his limited space.

It hovered there for a moment, toes flexing. Then he saw a greasy, yellow chunk of scrambled egg wedged securely between her big and second toe. The egg glistened with moisture; he couldn’t tell if it was grease, foot sweat or both.

The foot inched closer. “Open up,” she sang from above. “Here comes the airplane.”

“I’m not a baby,” he growled.

“You sure? ‘Cause you’ve got the whining down to a science.” She snickered. Her foot advanced, stopping just before his lips. Her toes tapped against them once, then twice. His mouth remained shut. “Cinnamon, let’s make sure he’s full before he goes out. You know what I mean?”

“Hold still, Belial.”

“No—”

Too late. Her soles wrapped around the sides of his head from behind. The skin remained damp from her spraying earlier, and that cursed cinnamon scent flooded his nostrils immediately.

He struggled to pull away, but her feet held him perfectly steady, angling his face directly at Ginger’s offering.

“Last chance to be a good boy,” Ginger cooed.

Bel let out an exasperated groan. Just get it over with. He reluctantly opened his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.

Before he could process what was happening, Ginger jammed her foot inside. The toes stuffed his mouth one by one. The egg chunk rocketed from between them and down his throat. He gagged, swallowing convulsively from the sheer force. The taste hit him all at once: slaty skin, dust, the rubbery texture of scrambled eggs…

He spat her foot out violently, swatting both it and Cinnamon’s feet away. His hands scrambled for his tiny milk bottle. He chugged it desperately, praying it would wash away the taste.

Gross! Gross! Gross!

He grabbed his shirt and scrubbed his face clean, trying to wolf down his own pancakes and pretend it never happened.

But focusing was impossible.

The forty toes were a constant, taunting presence in his cramped world. They shifted, flexed, spread and curled. Ginger’s feet stretched out, her toes splaying wide before curling tight. Over and over. Cinnamon’s feet crossed at the ankles, her toes rubbing against each other. Pepper’s feet remained mostly still, yet occasionally her toes would flex. And Marshmallow’s… They remained relatively calm. They barely moved at all, resting peacefully on the floor.

Don’t question it, Bel. It’s a victory. Accept it.

“We should exercise caution in taking him out today,” Pepper noted from above. Her foot suddenly swiped across Bel’s forehead, making him yelp. “His core temperature appears stable, but human thermoregulation doesn’t appear efficient.”

“Just means we need to keep him bundled.” Cinnamon stretched her legs forward. “Seph knowing he’s here is bad enough. I don’t want to deal with hypothermia on top of everything else.”

“She’s getting deadlier,” Ginger added. “Did you see how fast she moved last night?”

Bel attempted to take another bite of pancake. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste. Perhaps if he focused on the food, he could block out everything else.

He raised his fork for a second piece. Then he felt something different.

It started as a light brush against his back. But it soon became more deliberate. Cinnamon’s soles were playing with his ears from behind. He felt her big toe pressing against his lobe.

I despise every single one of these aliens.

He tried to scoot forward, away from her feet. But that brought him closer to Ginger’s toes, which immediately wiggled at him.

No matter how many times he tried to find a neutral zone, the siege was relentless. Feet were everywhere. With a loud, frustrated groan, he gave up. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor and placed his plate onto his lap.

Idiots. You wanna touch me? Touch me. But you’re not messing with my food.

Eventually, mercifully, it was over. The girls stood from the table, stretching and groaning with a satisfaction that insulted Bel. He’d just survived a war, while they were all peaches and cream.

As the others headed to their rooms to change, Ginger lagged at the table. She yawned, raising her arms high above her head. While stretching, she casually rose up on the balls of her feet. Her long toes flexed. Bel, who had been crawling out from under the table, saw the movement and froze.

She held the pose for a second before lowering back down.

He took a step back. Then another.

A wicked grin spread across Ginger’s face. “Don’t die on me now, bug boy.”

“Stop trying to kill me then” He gasped when she lifted one foot and showed him the sole. “Please. Please stop!”

“Kill you?” She puckered her lips, curling her toes until the sole wrinkled into deep creases. “I’m just stretching. Look, we call this scrunching. Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch…”

“Ginger, double time!” Cinnamon’s voice barked from down the hall.

“Alright, alright!” Ginger looked back at Bel, her grin softening slightly. “Hey, if a girl in her natural element scares you this bad, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” She gave her toes one final wiggle before sauntering off.

Bel’s heart pounded in his chest. Natural element… This isn’t ever getting better.

A few minutes later, the girls emerged from their rooms transformed.

Gone were the pyjamas and casual clothes. Now they wore their proper Sugar Squad uniforms: sleek black suits with colour-coded accents. Red for Ginger, pink for Marshmallow, red-violet for Pepper and orange for Cinnamon.

But despite the matching suits, their footwear remained defiantly unique.

Ginger wore thick, strappy black sandals that left the essential parts of her feet exposed—her toes with their bright red polish. Marshmallow had simple flats that barely contained her plump feet. Pepper wore sturdy boots that reached the middle of her calf. Lastly Cinnamon sported sleek sneakers with orange accents that matched her uniform, glowing faintly.

“What do you think?” Marshmallow asked Bel, doing a little twirl. “Much better than the stuffy patrol look, isn’t it?”

“It’s…” His eyes darted away from them. “I guess.”

“He guesses,” Ginger scoffed, rolling her eyes as she adjusted a strap on her sandal. “It’s like pulling teeth getting a nice word out of you.”

“So I’m supposed to compliment kidnappers now?” He crossed his arms. “You want me to thank you for the matching outfits while you’re holding me prisoner?”

“Technically it’s Santa holding you prisoner,” Ginger retorted with a grin. “We’re just the wardens.”

“Enough.” Cinnamon grabbed Bel by the arm, her grip firm. “Let’s move.”

She escorted him out of the apartment like a mother dragging an uncooperative child. The moment they stepped into the lobby, Bel felt dozens of eyes turn toward him.

There were elves everywhere.

“I don’t like that they’re staring at me,” he hissed.

“Remember who you are,” Pepper stated. “You don’t belong here. Your presence is therefore anomalous.”

“Whatever that means. They’re staring at my ears.”

“Duh.” Ginger glanced back at him. “Pointy ears are kinda the default here, dude.”

“So I’m walking around looking like a freak to all of them? I feel that’s gonna be a problem.” His hands instinctively moved up to cover his ears, but Cinnamon swatted them away.

“Don’t draw more attention. Just keep walking.”

“But—”

“Approximately two percent of elves are born with rounder ear structures,” Pepper informed him. “It’s rare but not unheard of. From a distance, you could pass as one of them. Though I’d recommend avoiding direct conversation with strangers. Your lack of knowledge about basic eleven customs would expose you immediately.”

Bel hid himself deeper among the elven girls. But the whispers continued to follow them.

---

After exiting the building, they walked to what appeared to be a standard underground passageway. Multiple elves swarmed them, and Cinnamon made sure not to let go of Bel for the entire trip. His arm was ready to fall off.

They descended through a series of corridors that progressively grew more impressive. The walls changed from simple rock to polished stone.

“Where are we going?” Bel asked, his voice lost in the crowd.

Cinnamon’s ears flicked. “The Problem Post. Central operations for special assignments.”

They rounded a corner. Before them stood an enormous set of wooden double doors that reached five metres tall. Flanking the doors were two stone statues of reindeer. As the Sugar Squad approached, the reindeer statues’ eyes began to glow white. Two distinct light beams scanned each girl’s eyes.

“Verified,” a voice echoed from the statues for each girl. Their lights hit Bel, who jumped upon being temporarily blinded. “Scanning… Scanning… Sugar Squad set to host a guest. Guest signature has been registered. Access granted.”

The massive doors swung open, revealing the chamber beyond.

Bel’s jaw dropped.

This room easily eclipsed the size of a football field. It looked like a more developed version of what Bel had envisioned Santa’s workshop would be. Christmas wallpapers decorated the space from top to bottom. Rather than smelling like sour elf feet, it smelt sweet, like milk and sugar cookies.

Elves of all shapes and sizes moved through the space, wearing more traditional elf outfits than what the Sugar Squad had equipped. They clustered around holographic displays projected from desks, their fingers typing in the air to manipulate data.

In the centre of it all stood a massive circular desk. Dozens of screens surrounded it.

“This is the hub for all non-standard assignments,” Pepper explained. “Most elves have one job. We’re part of the exceptions.”

“We handle special operations,” Cinnamon boasted, puffing out her chest.

“Yeah, the jobs too weird or messy for the so-called A-listers,” Ginger clarified. She strode up to the circular desk and pulled out a small card. She slid it into the slot.

A holographic screen flickered to life, displaying a list of available missions.

“Let’s see what garbage they left for us to clean up this time,” she muttered, scrolling through the list. Her eyes lit up. “Ooh! ‘Beast Wrangling’ it is!”

Her finger reached for the screen. The mission flashed red and disappeared.

Loud, obnoxious snickers echoed from behind them.

Ginger’s body went rigid. Her hand slowly curled into a fist.

“Well, well, well.” The voice was male and smooth. “If it isn’t the Sugar Puffs.”

Bel turned to see three elves approaching. The one in front was tall—taller than Pepper—with sharp features and a condescending smirk. The two flanking him looked equally smug.

“Heard you had a wild time last night,” the leader continued. “Property damage and a Z-list villain? Real professional work there.” He made a show of tapping his own card against the desk. ‘Beast Wrangling’ appeared on his screen with a cheerful ding. “Left a real mess for us to clean up. Again.”

Ginger’s hands burst into flames. “You’d better shut your mouth before I—”

“Before you set fire to more property? Please, add to that damage total.” He laughed. “Because I appreciate the bonus pay your disasters hand us. Hazard compensation is very generous when cleaning up after the Sugar Squad.”

“Our situation was complicated,” Ginger growled.

“Always complicated when you fail, yet somehow it’s a piece of cake when you win.”

His gaze landed on Bel. He extended a hand.

“You’re the human boy Santa told me about, I take it?” His tone lightened slightly. “Welcome to the circus. Name’s Tunfro.”

Bel, caught completely off guard, awkwardly shook his hand. “Uh… I’m Bel.”

“Word of advice, Bel: I know you’re stuck with these morons because Santa ordered it. Something about reforming you, saving their own careers, all that stuff.” He leaned in. “But if you ever want to see what a real mission looks like, you’re welcome to hang with us. High-priority gigs don’t go to teams with a success rate of negative whatever.”

“Our success rate changes starting today!” Cinnamon’s cheeks puffed out.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Captain Cheesefoot.” Tunfro chuckled at Cinnamon’s pouty attitude. He spun and gave Ginger a condescending pat on the head. “Oh, and Bel? Careful around Miss Hurricane over here. She’s got the impulse control of a firecracker.”

“Take your smug face and your two-bit goon squad,” Ginger snarled, her entire body beginning to radiate heat, “and get the hell out of here before I explode like a firecracker!”

Wisps of smoke rose from her hair. Pepper’s hand clamped down on her shoulder.

“Not here. It’s not worth it.”

Tunfro laughed, already backing away with his squad. “Always a pleasure, Sugar Puffs. Try not to burn down anything important today, yeah?” They disappeared into the crowd of elves.

For a moment, the Sugar Squad just stood there in silence.

Then Cinnamon turned to Bel. “Even if we could take that mission, I wouldn’t endanger you. We’re splitting up. Bel stays with one of us on a low-risk assignment.”

“Then he’s with me,” Ginger declared, the flames on her body finally extinguishing. “Let’s go, brat.”

Bel didn’t budge. In fact, he took a small, deliberate step closer to Cinnamon.

Ginger’s eye twitched. “Don’t make this hard, dude. You’re coming with me, whether I have to drag you or—”

“Relax,” Cinnamon commanded. She scooped Bel into her tail. “Belial. I’ll allow you to choose who you spend the day with.”

Bel looked at his options. Ginger was obnoxious and giving him a look that promised torture if he didn’t pick her. Pepper was intimidatingly silent most of the time and robotic whenever she spoke. As far as Cinnamon was concerned, the memory of being trapped in her slipper was still fresh. His face still felt raw where her toes had gripped him.

That left one option.

“Her.” He pointed at Marshmallow.

Marshmallow’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? Really?”

He nodded, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“Oh, this will be so much fun!” She clasped her hands together, practically glowing with excitement. “Our first solo mission together, Bel! We’re going to be best friends by the end of the day; I just know it!”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” he muttered. He glanced at her wide curves. “Especially since if I get hungry, you’ll probably just eat all my food up. Looks like your specialty, fatty.”

Ginger’s jaw dropped. Pepper raised a brow. Cinnamon’s tail squeezed tighter around him.

But Marshmallow just smiled. “You’re probably right,” she giggled, patting her stomach. “I do love me some food. It’s something I can always rely on for comfort.” She took his hand gently. “And it means I know all the best places to eat if you’re starving.”

He tried to pull his hand away, but she held on. She didn’t even notice he was resisting.

“Should be a good pairing,” Cinnamon said. “Just stay close to the main sectors in case of emergency.”

“Good thinking.” Marshmallow scrolled through the options. “Ooh. ‘Bakery on the Fritz’ sounds perfect. Easy, safe and delicious.”

What? Bel’s head tilted. So it really is just anything. They need a team for something like this?

“We’re off, Bel!” Marshmallow sang, already tugging him towards the exit. “We’ll see you girls later.”

“Don’t let him out of your sight,” Cinnamon ordered. “And Marshmallow? If Seph shows up, run away. Don’t try to fight her alone.”

Marshmallow’s smile didn’t falter. “I know.”

As they walked away, Bel glanced back once more. Ginger was still glaring at him, arms crossed. Pepper had already turned back to the mission board, unbothered. Cinnamon watched him go, her expression unreadable.

Please tell me I didn’t pick the worst option.

---

Author’s Note:
Before release, I honestly expected Ginger to be the favourite from her design. It surprised me to see that people prefer Marshmallow the most. I’m happy with how I designed each one, but it was least expectant, especially with her wearing flats. Will Bel get a hint of how she smells in them? We shall see.