FSE

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My first actual submission, so if it sucks, sorry, I'll try to get better.

The warning: If you're under eighteen, don't read this. If you do, vast hoards of beetles will descend upon your home and devour your computer. Maybe I'm wrong. Can you risk it?

The other warning: This is a total work of fiction and is not in any way, shape, or form based on any real person, place, or event. If it offends you, well, that's your problem, isn't it? All characters are original things from the cold, void like depths of my mind.

Life, Hark had decided, was a cruel, malicious bitch of a beast. He'd concluded this a good while ago, when he was old enough to actually think about such things. Now, it wasn't to say he was born into a bad situation mind you. Oh sure, his family wasn't the richest or the most influential or the most popular, but neither were they dirt poor or totally hated. Simply put, Hark's life was what could be considered "ordinary", if such a term applied to someone who was six feet tall at birth. No, you read that right. Six feet, three and one half inches long, brown hair, gray eyes, 245 pounds, which would be considered a miracle (and goddamned painful) for many races. However, for the race simply known as "Giants", he'd been considered "a bit runty", and his parents and the midwife had worried if he'd survive the first month of life. Considering he was now verging on the last of his teenage years, topping well over 20 feet, and to quote the healers "healthy as a unicorn on a full moon", he thought he deserved a bit of credit. Sadly, he was still considered "kind of small" among his people, a fact his younger sister was so "kind" to point out, usually on a daily basis. Being five feet taller than he was and about that many years younger, she felt it was her right, nay, her very DUTY to completely and utterly rub it in. Naturally, she wasn't the only one, and life in Fenra Valley's educational system and social circles had taught Hark two things: the aforementioned bitchiness of life, and that women did not go for guys they had to look down at to look in the eyes.

That, however, was the past, and as far as Hark was concerned, the further in the past, the better. He would have loved to say he'd been banished or exiled or something good and dramatic like that, but the truth was a lot less entertaining. About the fiftieth time a good looking girl told him that he was "really sweet, but just not her type", all the while eyeing one of the "normal" sized giants, he'd decided enough was enough. He'd headed home, told his parents exactly what he was going to do, packed up, and left, getting a tear filled goodbye hug and kiss from his mother, an understanding nod and pat on the back from his father, and "can I have your room?" from his sister.

Really, it'd seemed like such a great idea at the time. Go out into the world, find places where he wasn't shorter than everyone else, and maybe find a way to fit in. A whole perfect "happy ending". Just one weeeee problem: out here, he towered over everyone else, and nobody was very happy to see him. In fact, screaming, running away, and firing arrows at him had become par for the course, and it hadn't taken long to figure out why. Simply put, most of the "Giants" who lived outside places like Fenar Valley and other civilized villages were mostly rough, smelly rogues who used smaller folks' lands like a combination all you can eat buffet and help yourself bank. Between raided farms, ruined villages, and kidnapped princesses, he'd come to be surprised there'd never been out and out war between his people and, well, everyone else. Then again, when one of your people can use a platoon of the other side as bowling pins, it kind of discourages taking on more than one at a time.

Now all this was all fascinating information, and it helped him understand how to keep from getting a pitchfork in the groin, but in the end, raiding the countryside wasn't his cup of tea. So, he did the only thing he could think of: He became a hireout.

To cut to the chase, he was a "do it man". Need your fields plowed? He'd have them all done in a day. Need water carried from the lake to your well? He could bring enough for a community swimming pool. Of course, with his size and his people's rep, the usual jobs were guard duty, beast hunting, military support, etc. Basically, anything that involved using a lot of muscle to guard something or make something "worse" than him hurt badly. These jobs never lasted long, because once the threat was gone, most employers started wondering if HE wasn't a threat, and, it was "here's your pay, thank you for your services, please leave now." Really, how can you blame a guy for being bitter with all this kinda crap?! In any case, this brings us to dear Hark's current situation...

"It's a menace! It must be hunted down and destroyed, for the good of thinking, feeling creatures everywhere!" Once more, the human pounded his fist against the oak dining table, causing the goblets and plates to jingle together. Hark kept a straight face and nodded seriously as he mentally rolled his eyes. It was always the same story. Big critter comes out of woods, grabs easy, tasty snacks (i.e., livestock), repeats process a few times, and it's a menace. If they were really unlucky, it might grab a goat boy or a sherpardess as well, but judging by the stories he'd heard while waiting for the duke's audience, he didn't think that was the case, and this whole speech just proved it. The guy had lost a bit of taxes from the sale of the cattle, and was using this "summons" to make it sound like whatever the thing was, it was lurking about, just waiting for the change to suck the marrow from their shattered bones and nest in a ring of skulls. Still, the duke did have an "end of my rope" look about him.

"Many brave warriors have quested for the beast, but none have succeeded." His voice dropped theatrically and Hark, his neck aching from crouching beneath the ceiling, cocked an eyebrow.

"It killed them?"

"Well, now, but it does thrash them unmercifully and leaves them to drag their half dead bodies away from its lair." The duke looked shifty and Hark smothered a snort with a concerned sounding "Hmmmmm." He knew the forest around here. If these "warriors" were as badly wounded as all that, they'd be killed and eaten by something before they made it back to report. To get out alive after getting their asses whooped, they'd have to be carried to the edge of the forest and left there. The thought of which left Hark wondering just what kind of "beast" he was supposed to kill here.

"Your reward will be 1,000 Tarnats if you can prove the monster dead."

Hark's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise at that one. That much gold was nothing to sneeze at for what sounded like a simple pest control job, and showed just how ready to deal the duke was. The loss of profit must've been driving him nuts. Hark got himself under control, nodded once and edged to the double doors that, for a human, were massive, but required him to practically crawl though to get outside again. Grand dining hall his tuckus. His back protested as he stood up and picked up his axe from side of the stables, resting it over his shoulder as he picked his way carefully over the duke's property, closing the heavy iron gate behind him with one hand and leaving the guard with a tale to tell at the tavern.

Nursag Forest. Named for the small, deer like creatures that favored its lush greenery and pleasant atmosphere, it was not what one would consider a haven for monsters. The trees were spaced too far apart for a decent shadow, the air was heavily scented by patches of wildflowers and warm grass. Really, it was one of those places you didn't need an enchantment to put you to sleep. It was about as foreboding as a nursery, and had about as many overly cute critters lying about. The little Nursags didn't even look up from their berry bush napping spots as Hark passed, the top of his head occasionally bobbing up above the tree tops. Really, this wasn't so bad. He'd done a bit of asking around after leaving the duke's place, and discovered he'd been right. All the other mercs hired to take down the "beast" had been found at the edge of the forest, beaten the living crap out of, yet alive and, apparently, already bandaged. None of them would say anything more than that "the thing was a menace" and the last merc (who'd been busy getting working on a fine case of piss drunk when Hark had found him) said that it wasn't worth the money" and when asked what the "beast" was, got very sulky and muttered something about looks being deceiving. Not a fantastic help, but better than rushing in with no knowledge whatsoever.

Tracking it was relatively simple, a bunch of five toed, clawed foot prints in the mud of the fields, scaled if the dew marred impressions were anything to go on, which didn't really narrow the field all that much. He could think of at least seven species that grew to the proper size (the prints were nearly as big as his boot) and three of them that'd be smart enough to know how to treat a wounded human. Of course, of those three, he couldn't picture any actually treating a human's wounds, but they could have. The tracks led in a more or less straight line through the forest, ending at the mouth of a large cave, apparently carved into the side of one of the oversized hills the humans and elves around here called "mountains". The entrance was large enough that he could have walked straight in without ducking, and wide enough to have stretched his arms wide and done all the stretching he wanted. Of course, knowing a meat-eating creature was presently occupying said caves made both prospects rather, unappealing. So instead, Hark moved a safe distance in front of the cave, cleared his throat, and called out. "Helllllooooo in there! Anybody home?"

"Oh, good Kires, not another one!" The annoyed, no, the upset, no, the PISSED off voice was distinctly female, very clear, and coming closer. "You know, I don't even TAKE that many of those gods bedamned cows, and its not like he doesn't have seven or eight herds of the stupid things!" Hark eyebrows were almost lost in his hairline as he watched the shadows at the mouth of the cave slowly recede, revealing first a lantern, then it holder.

She stood a good 19 feet tall, lean and well shaped, from the tip of her flickering tail to the end of her lovely snout covered in jade green scales. Steam curled from her nostrils and her eyes, a lovely lake blue color, narrowed as she put the lantern aside and adjusted the chain mail shirt she was wearing. Oh yes, she was most definitely a she. The heavy steel of the shirt and the poofy slacks (that had to be enough material to make galleon sails, he thought absurdly) did nothing to disguise the fact that the dragon in front of him was most assuredly of the fairer sex. No matter what came out of her mouth. "Well? Come on, tall stuff, make with the usual speech and let's get on with it, I just got to one of the good parts of my book." She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a bare foot claw against the dirt.

Hark blinked, his mind racing for a suitably roguish and appealing remark, and then his mouth engaged first. "Bwuh?"

"Alright, let me slow it down for you: The, duke, sent, you. I, took, "his", cows." The sarcasm was heavy on "his", "He, hired, you, to, slay, me." She snorted, and two smoke rings floated from her nostrils to poof against his chest. Hark scowled. "Hey, no reason to get insulting lady, I just,"

"Yeah yeah, whatever, can we get this over with? You're cute and all, but I don't go for the big dumb types, and I just got done mopping the kitchen, so I'd like to get back to my book." She dropped into a perfect fighting stance even as he tried vainly to cut in and interrupt.

He took a step forward, holding his hands in front of him placating, his axe bumping at his hip. "Look, if you'd just calm dow..." The rest was cut off as he palm snapped up and caught him square in the jaw, snapping his teeth together and lifting him off his feet. The air rushed from his lungs as he slammed into the hard packed earth, colors swimming in front of his eyes as he fought to remind his lungs what their job was. He heard a tsk and then saw the dragoness moving across the space between them.

"That was just pathetic. Thought giants were supposed to be too stupid to feel pain." She grabbed his booted feet and something inside him snapped. Planting his hands on the ground beneath him, he pushed up and forward with all his strength, planting the boots firmly in her midsection, returning the favor of a surprise attack.

"Lady," He snarled, his breathing slowly regulating, "Could you cut the "stupid" cracks? They're pissing me off."

She glared back at him, clutching her stomach for a moment before launching forward with a shoulder ram that would have broken his ribs if he hadn't turned it aside.

The rest of the fight was, to the untrained eye, a blur of jade scale and chestnut hair, with the occasional flash of teeth or a flying boot, accompanied by grunts, snarls, the smack of claws against studded leather, and the clatter of fists smashing into chain mail. Inside the strike zone, however, it was almost a thing of beauty. Both Giant and Dragoness had plenty of experience, and what they lacked in proper training, they made up for in sheer determination and natural agility. Most of the blows were parried, blocked, or avoided altogether, and what did connect was usually barely enough to cause the slight grunt of pain that accompanied the counter attack. All this lasted about half an hour, and only ended when Hark found himself with a rather large knife pressed to his throat, his axe blade resting against the dragoness's hip. They glared at each other, panting, sweat gleaming on skin and scale, stinging eyes that barely blinked. The dragoness spoke first. "You fight pretty good, for an oversized thug."

"You fight pretty good for an insulting cheapshotter." Hark retorted with a smirk. Her eyes narrowed, and for a second he thought she was going to slit his throat right there and then. To his (pleasant) surprise, the knife was drawn away and slid back into her hip sheath, the chain mail tugged back down to conceal it. "You can put the hatchet away, high and mighty, I'm too tired to gut you." She didn't move until he eased his axe back to his own hip, eyes never leaving hers. She smirked. "So, I guess my perfect record gets a "tie" attached to the rankings."

"Guess so."

There was a long, awkward silence. She stuck out her hand and without thinking he took it, feeling the muscles in her grip. "Bretta."

"Hark. Pleasure."

"Yeah, charmed, I'm sure. Well, that out of the way, you might as well come in and have something to drink. Kires knows I need one." With that she turned and moved back into the cave with a careless sway in her hips, pausing only to pluck up the lantern and turn back to wait. "Come on, slick, can't have you getting lost in the dark and spooking my cats." Feeling thoroughly confused, Hark followed her into the depths of the cavern.

The rum wasn't bad. The couch was comfy, the room well lit, and the two gray Roccats were actually reasonably friendly, rubbing against his legs as he raised the glass to his lips, watching the dragoness. The whole scene was, for more reasons than he could count, surreal. Mainly it was the whole "we were just trying to kill each other" thing, but also, everything fit him. He wasn't holding his cup between two fingers, or almost snapping the seat in half. As a matter of fact, he was perfectly comfortable, and that made him all the more nervous. Bretta drained her glass, looked at him, and smiled a little. "Oh relax, big guy, there's no trap. The booze isn't poisoned, the cats aren't trained blood beasts, and if I'd wanted to gut you, I'd have done it outside, not on my nice clean couch." She said it so frankly, he had no trouble believing every word of it. Still, he shook his head. "Ok, I don't get it. You know the duke sent me, you almost broke my jaw, got into a full out brawl, and almost slit me, and now, what?" He shrugged, and one of the "cats" leapt into his lap, curling its six-foot frame happily.

Bretta chuckled. "Call it guilt if you like. You didn't rush me, or try to sneak in, and you didn't break out the axe right off the bat. Makes me feel kinda bad for the whole jaw thing." She'd ditched the chain mail, and the tunic she wore was just right to show off her breasts. Hell, if he didn't know any better, he'd swear she was showing them off. "So what's your story, tall stuff? Don't see many Largas around these parts."

Surprised, and a bit flattered, by the fact that she knew the proper name for his people (aided by another glass or two of rum), Hark found himself launching into his life story, with all the really embarrassing parts left in, but edited in an attempt to save some face in the presence of a hot female. He noticed her face seemed to soften as he unloaded his tale, her smiles becoming less edged, her questions a bit less acidic. By the time he reached "And that's why I'm here.", she was nodding what something that looked very close to sympathy. "Runt of the litter huh? My condolences. Went through the same thing in my clutch." And with that she was off and running. Hark found himself drawn into her life story, not only from that first remark and the "life will fuck you over every time" attitude, but by the way her breasts shook every time she'd make a big gesture to illustrate a point.

By the time she got to the part where she was stealing cattle, he realized he was at the "just enough" stage of drinking, where one more would realllly screw him over. He couldn't help but wonder if Bretta had reached or surpassed that particular stage, though judging by the way she flung her arms about, she was at least a fair way past tipsy. "......and so I grabbed the guy by his lance and smacked him against a tree until he let go. Carried him back to the fields and came back home, simple as that." She finished with a nod, watching him carefully. Hark smiled and could have sworn she blushed. "Well, since I'm not big of defaulting contracts, I guess I better be rambling on."

"Say what?" She blinked, looking torn between cautious and disappointed.

Hark shrugged. "Well, I have no desire to kill you, I doubt the duke's gonna accept "She's a really sweet person" as an excuse for not doin' so, and he'll probably want my head, so," He sighed, giving her a half smile and a nod. "I'll just head out. Thanks for the booze."

Bretta caught him by the wrist. "Oh no ya don't, tall stuff. In case you didn't notice, its well past sunset, and the forests on the other side of these hills are NOT to be traveled at night. I don't care how good a fighter you are."

"So, what, you're saying I can, stay here for the night?" He felt his heart do a little flutter at the thought, getting worse as she smiled.

"Damn straight. You can crash on the couch there and figure out what to do in the morning. Hells, it'd be nice to have someone to talk to over dinner and breakfast besides Fatima and Truffles." The cats gave her identical haughty glares and stalked into the maze of tunnels that eventually lead to the surface. She laughed and tugged him toward the kitchen. "Come on, you're gonna have to cook for your supper, buddy boy. No free meals under my roof!" Hark saluted with his free hand, watching the way her ass swayed as she walked. Well, one night couldn't hurt.......

Dinner was a pretty nice affair actually. Bretta had put him on salad and meat duty, while she mixed bread dough and set the soup to boil. They had to work pretty close, and he found himself brushing, bumping, and rubbing against her ever couple of minutes, and found each touch just a bit electrifying. She did her best to look annoyed with him each time, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that said it was about as accidental as the sun rising. All through dinner they talked about politics, answered questions about each other's races, and went through every dirty joke they could think of. Halfway through the main course of grilled hydra fillets, they reached for the plate at the same time and her hand covered his. The conversation died down a little, and they found themselves staring into each other's eyes, mouths hanging open slightly. Before he could fully form the thought, he found himself leaning forward, pressing his mouth to hers, the soft scales on her lips teasing his as his tongue tentatively brushed past them. He felt her tongue flicker carefully into his mouth and closed his eyes, savoring the kiss that seemed to last forever. Finally, they pulled back, staring at each other, flushed and wondering what the other was thinking. The conversation became slightly strained, and they kept casting glances at each other. When they polished off the dessert, Bretta helped him fix up the couch with a couple of pillows and nice thick blanket, heading to her bed with a soft "Good night" and a lingering look from the doorway.

Hark wasn't sure how long he spent in the dark, staring at the ceiling. It was stupid really. He couldn't think of any stories about Largas having relations with anyone but another Largas........then again, why would he? Hell, if there wasn't so damn much proof in the form of half-races, he bet all those books would make it seem like no one ever went outside their own race. When he finally drifted off, it was to a vision of what those lovely breasts might look like under that shirt.....

His dreams, naturally, were of sex. First a Largas girl appeared, her face obscured by a curtain of soft red hair, and as he watched, unable to move, she began to slowly turn and slide to the music of some unseen player. The motions were perfect, her body slim and petite, and as each bit of clothing floated to the ground, he felt himself getting harder. He noticed the scales first, the dusty light brightening slightly to reveal skin that looked like pure jade, and soon he realized the "hair" was actually silk veils. It wasn't hard to identify the draconian vision now undulating before him, each thrust of her hips, each lash of her tail removing another bit of cloth. She danced closer and reached between his thighs, grasping his aching hard cock, his mind vaguely registering his sudden lack of clothing as she slowly began to stroke him, her voice a coo of surprise........

Hark opened his eyes and for a long moment tried to decide if what he was seeing and feeling was another dream. Bretts knelt by the couch, clad in a silk sleeping gown that might as well have not been there for all it covered. One clawed hand was wrapped around the base of his shaft, the other fondling his sac almost reverently. She froze as he lifted his head, the blush in her cheeks visible even in the dim light from the fireplace.

"I, um, I just....." She stuttered, he chest heaving softly as her eyes moved from the throbbing pole in her hand to his face. Hark realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it softly, his lips sliding into a smile. He moved carefully, sliding his legs over the side of the couch as she began to stand, trying to stutter out apologies. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close, her breasts pillowing against his chest as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Bretta's eyes widened, then she relaxed into his arms, her own wrapping around his back and gripping his ass, tugging his hips closer. She moaned into his mouth as he shaft bumped against her groin, and without word she pressed him back onto the couch.

Kneeling, she spread his thighs wide, moving in to grasp the base of his cock and leaned down, pressing her lips to his sac, slowly stroking him. A shiver raced along his spine as she slowly traced his balls with her tongue, the forked tip flicking teasingly over the tightening flesh. He whimpered and arched softly into her hand, feeling her other hand move tentatively to his ass, sliding between the cheeks to tease his anus with a claw. He jumped, then moaned as her tongue began a long, slow ascent up the underside of his cock, the flesh throbbing and pulsing under the warm velvet muscle. His fingers dug into the couch as he felt his sac tightening, his full on virgin body reaching its first climax at an almost alarming rate. He bit down on his lip, willing it away as Bretta reached the pulsing mushroom head, flicking her tongue across the tip, coating her tongue with pre. Hark shivered, his body begging him to let it cum, nearly biting through his bottom lip. Bretta's voice, a smooth, soft purr broke through his concentration.

"Come on baby, its ok, this is just round one......" The promise in her voice was too much, and with something halfway between a yelp and a groan he arched up hard, his ass leaving the cushions as his cock spasmed. Bretta squealed as the first ropey splash of semen caught her across the face, dripping down into her cleavage. The second splashed across her cheek as she moved to clamp her lips over the pulsing head, letting his cum fill her mouth, swallowing softly. She kept his manhood in her mouth until he finally collapsed back onto the couch, his now sticky shaft slowly softening. He looked down at her as she carefully caught the stray cum on her fingers and licked them clean, smiling wickedly up at him.

"Mmmmm, I needed a midnight snack," She whispered, pushing him down onto the cushions and sliding in next to him, tugging the blanket over both of them. "Better rest up, babe, because I'm not even close to done with you yet." Her hand slid under the cover and he jumped as little as she gave his still half hard shaft a squeeze. He looked down into her eyes and grinned. This was shaping up to be, interesting......

More to come, stay tuned my horny friends!