Random Fiction - No Billygoat Gruff

Grog lived under the bridge between two meadows, but unlike his cousin who had had an unfortunate run-in with goats some years back, Grog was cautious. He had the filthy pelts of numerous woodland creatures, magical and mundane, to prove it. But of late his larder was bare, probably because even stupid woodland creatures got wind of a troll under the bridge eventually.

So when Grog heard footsteps, he played it cool. No reason to scare off his dinner. When he finally peaked over the side, there was something he hadn't expected: a faerie, eyes closed, lip trembling. Grog couldn't help but notice that she was also totally naked, her wings sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

It had been a long time since Grog had seen a female troll, and while this faerie was much too clean, much too hairless, and much too slim to be truly attractive, Grog wasn't going to be choosy, not when this sort of opportunity dropped into his lap. He leaped out and grabbed her around the waist.

"Hoho," he said in his most menacing voice. "What have we here?"

"Please just do it and get it over with," whimpered the faerie, eyes still closed. "Please."

Grog was taken aback. "Nope, no tricks," he said. "I'm not listening."

"No tricks. Just do it."

Grog didn't even have to drag her back to his lair; she bent over in the grass and put her head down. What was going on?

But still, the sight of her pert backside made Grog hungry for things other than billygoats. His cock was enormous, as befitted a troll, and it rose to hardness immediately, so he tossed aside the filthy loincloth and gripped the sylph's slim hips, directing his trollhood into her tight, hot passage. He grunted and thrust, caring little for her comfort, but he could have sworn he heard her sigh with happiness.

Grog was cautious, but not when his cock was demanding release, not when a seemingly willing cunt was taking all he could throw at it. He thrust and thrust, and he didn't even notice when the sword point made its own thrust through his heart. He collapsed in a puddle of blood, and his last thought was wondering just what had happened.

"You could have let him finish," scowled the faerie, climbing from her knees and turning to look the hero in the eye.

"I hate sloppy seconds," said the hero, his pants already down, his own cock, hardly a troll's but still impressive, jutting out like his sword. "In fact, I think with all that pounding that the only thing worth fucking on you today will be your ass."

And the sylph was happy to oblige, even as she idly wished that her hero would occasionally let her feel the hot blasts of troll cum she craved.