Half Giant and Goblin

"The Golden Charm?"
"Nah. Too rich for mah blood, friend."
"The Precious Pony? Maybe Madame Kerrin's?"
"Ehhhhhh..."
"Fine fine. How 'bout the Rare Breed? S'cheap as hell and they got a broad there with jugs bigger than 'er damned head."
"Well yah, but they got that...that, uh..."
"Ya mean the guard fella?"
"Mmhm. The freak half-blooded one."
"S'fine. Just mind yer dirt 'n he minds his. You know 'em halfies. They ain't like you 'n us, dumb as rust."

---

The Rare Breed was nestled away in a particular shady corner of Honeywell's infamous (but frequently ignored by the more chaste residents) district of depravity. Small, but clean and comfortable. Not nearly as high-class and expensive as the Golden Charm, but its loyal patrons at least took comfort in the fact that their favored establishment wasn't as cheap and depraved as Madame Kerrin's or, goodness forbid, the Gilded Goat.

The whores were happy and violent incidents were few, with primary thanks given to the establishment's premiere non-sexual attraction. The brothel's standout bodyguard acted as barrier between whore and whore-lover. Sharp-eared and as imposing as they came, few customers were drunk, stupid, or brave enough to try anything risky as long as he was on the job.

A Half-Giant. Massive. Eight feet tall, ridiculously broad-shouldered. The floor buckled beneath the weight of his dense body. Constantly clad in battle leathers and hefty hammer hanging from his hip, he was a vision stripped straight from a battle mural. Sharp, blue eyes ever-watchful, muddy blond hair shaved and snipped into a vicious-looking mohawk (a decision to make himself look even more wild and menacing), his body rippled with firm, tightly coiled sinew. If not for his size he'd have the appearance of a gruff, but not immediately unattractive, young man with a solid build. But as it stood, he was a behemoth...a veritable monster of a man of which few challenged.

Skaldelskel, his name. An ugly name. A long, ugly giant's name appropriate for such a beast. No surname, for his parents weren't relevant enough to warrant such a thing.

The giant stood stalwartly at his post, arms crossed and ever-ready. Pair of bums passed by, reeking of alcohol. He verified that they had coin before grunting in approval. They stumbled towards the main greeting room reeking of cheap wine and discussing the how overrated the Precious Pony was and how they have no respect for visitors of the Gilded Goat.

It was grunt work. His official occupation was to stand there and look menacing. He despised it. Of course, he had no choice in the matter. Being half-blooded was akin to being cursed. A product of years upon years of selective breeding, he was nothing but a giant/human abomination specifically bred for qualities of stoicism, strength, durability, loyalty, submission, and placidity. He was slave fodder...but lucky slave fodder. Lucky enough, at least, to find at least one place willing to employ his unique services and give him enough money to eat.

He alternated between staring at the toes of his enormous 'stomper' boots and glaring in challenge at any newcomer venturing into the lavender-scented depths of the whorehouse. He went through the motions, same old thing. He stopped anyone obviously carrying a weapon, confiscated it. He asked a few questions for no reason, just a way to make himself look busier and more competent than he really was. When the Rare Breed closed he'd be one of the last to leave, remaining as long as possible just in case some disgruntled quick-shot suddenly returned with a grudge to bear and one too many drinks in him. He's go home to his lonely little shack with the bed that wasn't long enough for him and the bottle of hard spirits that still weren't strong enough to give a man of his size anything more than a pleasant tingle.

He wasn't ecstatic about his relatively good fortune, and that made him feel even worse.

---

"...'Ey. Big guy."
"..."
"Come onnnnn. You can do iiiiiit. We all believe in yooou, long-legs."
"..."
"For the sake o-...LOOK DOWN, WILL YA!?"

Skeld finally glanced down and to his side with a faint blush running across his cheeks. He wasn't accustomed to being directly addressed by anyone other than his employer. The shrill, heavily accented voice came from a set of obnoxiously purple, painted lips that immediately curled into a crooked lil' grin.

A goblin. A female goblin, at that. He'd never seen one, but the fact that she was here as an apparent patron was evident enough of his social ranking. A full-blooded Goblin was still placed higher than any unnatural, split-heritage race.

She was barely half of his height but acted as if she dwarfed him. A plump, short thing...slight of chest but wide-hipped (and apparently proud of that fact from the way she cocked and wiggled her waist). Bare-footed, her toes seemed as expressive as her face...constantly wriggling over one another and never not in action. Bright green skin, sharp ears pierced with multiple garish golden hoops, a slightly bulbous nose, greasy black hair striped with loud colors of purple and blue. All this wrapped up in a patchy, mishmashed set of black shorts, shortened tunic, and a myriad of straps and pouches. He could only assume that she was the absolute epitome of whatever could be considered 'goblin beauty'.

Her lips, however, were her most prominent feature. Unusually thick and squishy-looking, made only more wet and inviting by the application of copious lipstick. Many a patron had described such things as 'man-pleasers'.

She seemed happy that he acknowledged her, celebrating the achievement by fetching a long, slender pipe from one of her many pouches. Packed it with something red and strong-smelling before igniting it with flame paper. She sucked in the smoke gratefully through her dense, wet lips before loosing it all out in one, long stream of red smoke. The half-giant's nose curled. It had a foul, sickeningly sweet smell. Like cherries, liquorice, and something indescribable. She sucked it in and reveled in it like the most pleasant experience in the world.

"So." She began. "...How's the weather up there?"

"You can go on in."

A blunt, unfeeling reply. The contrast between her high, squeaky voice and his deep, composed one were almost absurd.

"...So it's cloudy up there, huh?"

He didn't reply. She only grinned more widely, continuing after another happiness-inducing drawl of her pipe. "You seem a good guy, don't ya? Lettin' someone like me in like that? I mean, I coulda just...y'know, sneaked by, but I had the moral aptitude to at least give ya the opportunity to kick me out on my fat be-hind."

He didn't answer.

"...Ooooh, look at you, strong silent type. But hey, come on, I know why, huh? Know why ya was all nice and didn't give no trouble. We get each other, right?"

"..."

"Bleeech, look at that stupid thieving gobby, prolly tryin' to start trouble 'n still all our stuff in the chaos!" An imitation of your random local human, betrayed only by her strong goblin-esque accent. 'Chaos' came out as 'Kay-Ose'. "Oh stars away, stay far from that big, mean halfie over there! Them things about as dumb as any gob, but got size 'n power on their side, huh?"

He cringed a bit at that...primarily because despite the exaggeration, it sounded familiar. While he didn't reply, she was sharp enough to note the changes in his face and pursued. "C'mooooon. Talk to me. I ain't see many o' you around and I know you ain't see many o' me. 'Fore I go in and, uh...try to prop some of your fine establishment's wares, I wanna hear ya talk a bit more."

A goblin AND a girl-lover. The Rare Breed didn't feature male prostitutes. She was a bold, dangerous one.

Skeld shuffled a bit, a rare lowering in his natural stoic guard. He finally sighed and craned his head to look squarely down in her direction. She had black eyes.

"...Sorry..."

"Sorry?"

"...I don't know what you want me to say."

"Eeesh, you DO got it bad, don'cha? Alright, alright...I'll just do the talkin' for now. How 'bout some jokes?"

---

"Ahahaha...and then the man said 'It's such a horrible sin that I'd rather undo 10 or so virgins than commit adultery!' Ha...and so, the majority of the male congregation applauded!"

That was his voice. He wasn't accustomed to this, hearing himself talk in any way that wasn't blunt or business-like or threatening. He'd heard that joke, and many others, from waiting patrons who socialized before or after the 'event', but only now did he see the humor in them. They were attracting stares but he didn't care. The brothel's Madame seemed to almost venture near...but deciding that, perhaps, a laughing pair of goblin and half-giant were equally as intimidating as what her employee normally did, she decided against it.

The goblin, her name was Teseri, gleefully wiped a tear or two from her eyes. Her laughter was just as overpowering and obnoxious as anything else about her, but Skeld reveled in that high-pitched, wavering cackle. She stuffed some more of the red into her pipe (she refilled often with the rate at which she smoked) before lighting up again. She contracted another fit of the giggles in the middling of smoking, causing her to cough and her chest to heave...but she shook it off well.

"Ahhhh...ooph. S'a good one. Glad I decided to waste yer time, tall-y."

"You didn't waste anything."

Another quality to his voice he was unfamiliar with. He sounded happy.

"Mmhmm, mmhmm. Sentimental this, sentimental that. But 'ey, now that we got all them pleasantries out the way and know each other? How much?"

"Hm?"

"How much?"

"I'm sorry?"

"How much?"

"...How...much?"

"...Is there an echo in here? How much are ya, sunblocker?"

"I...Teseri, I'm afraid I don't understand."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Look, ya big oaf...I know ya ain't dumb 'cause I been chewin' the rag for ya for nearly an hour. Lemme break this down for ya, mkay?"

She gestured dramatically as she spoke, her words loud and slow and deliberate to the point of humiliating him. "How many units of currency...must I transfer from myself to you and/or this fine establishment...so that I may gain official permission...to climb Mt. Mohawk?"

He looked confused more than anything. He was unsure of whether or not this was joke or honest proposition, whether it was insulting or acceptable given the atmosphere.

"I'm...not a prostitute."

"Sure ya are."

"No, I'm a guard, I-"

She held up a small hand, immediately stopped the half-giant's train conversation while idly taking another long puff of her pipe. "Big thing, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, alright? There's only two kinds of folks in this world who claim to not be prostitutes. Liars...and those who have not been offered enough money yet."

She smirked triumphantly, confidently pushing her hands to her hips. "How much?"

He turned his head away, going back to his usual behavior of casting his eyes to his boots. "You can go on inside now."

"How? Much?"

"I'm n-"

"Look, I don't think you really grasp the situation here, hm? I am literally offering you money so that you can have a go at ALLLL this."

Her statement was punctuated with a sultry swirl and a quick slap to her hips. The light, swat of an impact was enough to make her backside jiggle tremendously, even in her tight shorts. He stared from the corner of his eye and, though he was ashamed to admit, felt a hot buzz at his crotch. But still...something like pride or shame or fear caused him to reply.

"No."

"I am serious. Name a price. Here, I'll help, alright? How much do ya make in a month?"

"Hundred."

"...A hundred Crowns?"

"One hundred Crowns, yes."

"...That's terrible, why do ya work here? Eh, nevermind, I know ya got reasons. Okay, okay. I'm 'bout to make ya an offer, just 'cause I think you 'n I? We got some chemistry goin' on. So...name a price. Literally any price in Crowns, mkay? I will pay you that."

Skeld grumbled slightly. He scratched at a bald portion of his head for a moment before giving answer. He wasn't happy anymore. Couldn't shake the idea that she had been using him or making fun of him. Felt a pang of guilt because he knew that contributing to that was the fact she was a Goblin. Even he wasn't immune to their reputation of tricks, traps, and thievery. He just wanted her gone. He'd rather be alone.

"How much would I make if I kept working here for ten years?"

"Twelve thousand Crowns."

"That's how much I want."

She pouted, gnawing at a painted lip. "You're gonna be a twelve thousand Crown whore?"

"Only if you have the money."

She gave a blissful sigh which melted into a giggle, a sound that made her slight chest bounce. "Be seein' ya later, hot stuff."

And she was gone. He was thankful.

---

By 'later', she meant an hour. The doors of the Rare Breed flew open with no warning and a commotion ventured through. Some heavyset, toothless bum grunted and groaned, slick with sweat as he acted as a human pack-mule. He was wheeling in a large half-cart of covered bags. A familiar Goblin was whistling happily atop the cloth-covered mounts in the cart. There was a bustle in the brothel and a crowd had formed.

Teseri hopped to the ground with a theatrical flare, taking the time to wave pleasantly to the gathered gawkers. She allowed them to question her and raise outrage even as she fished for her pipe once more, this time stuffing it with something black and gritty. The resulting smoke was overpoweringly strong, something musky and bitter.

Short, cocky creature handed a few spare coins to the bum. He stayed around for a moment hoping for more until she gestured him away.

The Rare Breed's resident Madame pushed through the small crowd of men, face reddened in embarrassment and slinging out demands for explanations. Teseri ignored her while casually toying with one of the many bags in the shoddy, wooden cart. She undid a single cord and allowed its contents to spill free.

Gold. Glorious, gleaming gold. Each piece was emblazoned with the local seal, making it difficulty to deny legitimacy.

"A-hem! Greetings, fairest Madame!" The goblin began in her most regal, deriding tone. "I would like to proposition the sexual favor of your giant, frightening guard-thing!"

The Madame, a ragged and skinny woman, opened her mouth to speak but was quickly silenced by the goblin's piercing, fluttery voice. "Twelve. Thousand. Crowns. They're all legit, ya can tell by their weight. I'unno how ya split this junk 'tween you and your sex-toys, but that's what ah'm willin' to pay for a room and naked time alone with 'em."

It was ridiculous. Absurd. A nasty little goblin walks into a human-run brothel and demands sex with the kind of fanfare that would cause even a high-standing, repeating customer to be reprimanded.

She wouldn't stand for it, Skeld thought. He had seen the Madame's wrath. She had a limit to nonsense and that nonsense had passed. She wou-

"He'll do it."

"...Wh-?"

Her next words came in a whisper. "You will do it or you will no longer work here, and you know that no one else would hire you." Absurdity was well and good as long as there was money to back it up.

---

The half-giant's heart was beating rapidly, his breath was labored. Should he be ecstatic or worried? He didn't know. For Heaven's sake, he was a virgin. He was being used, demeaned, forced...and yet that money. As much as he'd make in ten years. The brothel would take it share, naturally, but the Rare Breed's girls got half of everything a customer spent.

Six thousand. He'd be richer than anyone excluding royalty. He could do such wonderful things.

Despite his reluctance, his innate libido couldn't lie to himself. Teseri led the way and it gave the muscular behemoth a constant view of her rear assets (though he had to look drastically down to see them).

Her thick thighs, her broad (for her size) hips, a rotund behind that wobbled and rocked with every single one of her rapid, short-legged steps. She smoked happily, humming beneath her breath, occasionally turning her head to look up at her catch with a slick, lusty smirk. The light shone from her colorful lips in such an enticing way. "Slowerrr?"

"Huh?"

"You want me to walk slower, mohawk?" She illustrated her indecent question with a slower, more deliberate strut. Her hips moved with an exaggerated 'tick-tock' motion, allowing him to more clearly see the way all of that excess flesh rippled. He said nothing, only flushed and coughed quietly.

"Eheh...uhh...which-"

"Big door. End of the hall."

"Ahh." Would've made sense if he had led instead of her...but then she wouldn't have gotten to tease.

The room they entered was often referred to as the 'Fool's Room' by the employees of the Rare Breed. The room itself cost as much as a full night with one of the house's most popular entertainers on top of whatever they paid for their fuck. It was essentially identical to any other room, but it came with several bottles of moderately priced wine on the dresser for the 'lovers' to enjoy and the four-posted bed had shiny, blush-colored pink sheets as opposed to the plain, slightly worn off-white cotton featured in the more moderately priced rooms. Teseri got the room as a bonus simply for the absurd amount she was willing to fork over to bang someone more than twice her size.

"Oh-ho!" A hedonist, she gravitated towards the wine. Popped a cork and straightly guzzled about 1/8th of a bottle of red, sweet liquid. Skeld felt that she could've drank the whole thing in one go if she felt inclined, but given her size it'd probably knock her out for the night.

She finished off the bottle with a satisfied sigh, a thick ring of her purple lipstick left clinging to the bottle. "Mr. Mountain, c'mere. Have a drink, ya earned it."

He didn't bother to ask why he'd earned it. He took the bottle nervously and, noting that there were three identical bottles nearby, felt it appropriate to drink its entirety. He tasted her lips on the bottle. Her lipstick, surprisingly, was flavored...something cloyingly sweet and slightly floral. She seemed to have an obsession with stimulation...constantly smoking, drinking, AND painting her lips with something that tasted stronger than the wine he drank.

The goblin cheered enthusiastically as he effortlessly downed the bottle, clapping as he finished with a repressed belch. He barely felt anything from it, just a warmth so faint that he could've easily imagined it from his stomach to his crotch to his brain.

He was barely finished wiping his mouth before a second bottle was presented to him, held aloft by chubby green hands. She smiled comfortingly while offering. "Loooook, I know ya ain't comfy...'n I know ya probably don't think much of some lil', lusty bitch like me. But come on. Yer gettin' paid 'n I'll make sure ya get a good time outta this. Everybody ends up happy. Wouldn't be doin' this if I didn't like ya."

He sensed sincerity from her, felt a pang of guilt for continually judging the fact that she was a goblin. He forced a smile before proudly beginning to down the next bottle, a feat which she applauded.

Not much changed in his condition after the second bottle was gone, still not enough booze to give him anything more than a faint heat in his loins. The effect of the wine paled in comparison to the sight he received as he brought the empty bottle down.

She had stripped while he had drank. Her black shorts, black shirt, and variety of black pouches and accessories lay in a messy pile on the floor. Her breasts were tiny, little goblin-sized palmfuls capped with dark green areolae. She had some chub to her belly and her hips, lovehandles jutting out invitingly for grabbing. Messy, but creatively styled tuft of pubic hair lay provocatively over her slit, dyed in a rainbow of color simply for eye-catching effect. She was unusual, far from the commonly accepted standard of beauty...but regardless, Skeld found it appealing. Blood pumped to his cock and his breath lost him for a moment. He'd seen a naked woman before (he worked in a brothel, after all), but for the first time he was entranced by the prospect of sexuality.

She grinned arrogantly, some part of her noting the half-giant's spike in sexual interest. "Woof. Ya gettin' all hot 'n bothered by a lil' green girl? Got more weirdness than being giant then."

He said nothing. Didn't know how to respond. She began to tap her foot impatiently before verbally urging him on. "Well? Who's payin' who?"

"Uh."

"S'your turn! Let's see the goods!"

For the next few, fleeting moments the muscular behemoth was the purest, most embarrassed maiden in all the land. The hammer hanging from his hip came first. It hit the floor with a dull, metallic 'thunk!' His protective leather clothing came next as he exposed himself. All of himself.

From the tense muscles of his abdominals to the faint scar on his right shoulder that he couldn't quite recall the origin of. A tower of muscle of masculinity and brutal strength left without dignity by his persistent blush, nervous shakes, and resisted urge to cover his crotch with his hands. His goblin suitor watched the display with wicked pleasure, chewing noisily at the tip of her pipe until the last bit of clothing hit the floor in a disorganized slump. Her eyes gravitated towards his arms...then his chest...then quickly down to his legs...then the chest again...finally settling on his crotch.

She strode forward with an increasingly inquisitive biting of her plump lips, not stopping until she was close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath at his most sensitive regions. Her foot tapped rhythmically, her lips pursing in a curious 'hmmmm'.

Finally, her lips briefly abandoned her precious pipe as she measured the size of the conquest she had just procured with her hands before bringing her spaced fingers closer and confirming the length.

"...I don't think I thought this one through."

"Eh...well...you could always...your mouth...?"

She scoffed. "Why in the hell would I pay you so that I can slob all over your piece? Do guys 'round this place pay the girls so they can give 'em foot massages and talk about their feelings?"

He had no response. Without confidence, he barely his the length of his giant-influenced manhood with his large hands and nodded in dumb agreement. She continued.

"I'm paying, we're doing it my way. Here's the deal, tall 'n wide. You? Lay down. Face-up. Close your eyes."

She grinned almost maliciously, gratefully inhaling another chestful of dark smoke. In the moody lighting of the room he could actually manage to discern the glittering moisture at her pussylips. "Got a surprise for ya."