Jizzabelle Ch. 01: The Front Bar

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A small town fairy bares all to make it in the big city.
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Trixabelle tugged nervously at the hem of her skirt. It was a sick parody of traditional fairy garb, the pleats cut like leaves but slit far higher and cut far shorter than any fairy would wear back home. Not to mention that rather than being wrapped securely round her waist, it was tied at the sides with two, big flimsy bows. Pretty much the whole of the side of her thighs were exposed and her hipbones were the only thing holding the skirt up.

Oh, and there was the small fact she wasn't wearing any underwear.

This hadn't exactly been how she'd pictured her life in the big city. Not that she'd wanted to come to the big bloody city. She'd been perfectly happy back home in the glade. That was until Trixi and the rest of the community of Sweetwood discovered that the council had been involved in some very shady dealings with the elvish retirement village to the west. What should have been a sacred glade owned in perpetuity for all fairykind was suddenly at risk of encroachment and development. The council had fled with their ill-gotten gains but the contract they'd signed was legally binding. That was elves for you - snooty smartarses.

The only ray of hope was an onerous break clause. A band of hunters and farmers had set out to try and recover the cash the council had stolen - along with the councillors themselves - but even with that the fairies of Sweetwood would need a considerable amount to escape from the usurious contract. And they would need it quickly.

So the new council had gathered the whole community together in the mother-tree and implored those without families to go out into the world and return with cold, hard cash. How could Trixi refuse her duty? And if that meant giving up her beautifully appointed chamber in a highly desirable cluster, her job at the classiest foodhall in the glade and the amorous advances of more than one strapping fairy lad then that was a small price to pay to save her home. And if it meant travelling to the sprawling, stinking, gigantic human town of Stanport then... well, that was a slightly bigger price.

Good fairies kept themselves to themselves and they certainly didn't go gallivanting off to human settlements. But humans had gold and Mexalina Rootbottom's cousin's new husband said he'd heard from his mate over in Shadetree that there was definitely a fairy bar in Stanport where there was good money to be made. Trixi was an excellent waitress so she was the obvious choice to send. And at least she hadn't been sent off to bargain with mud-wraiths like some of her poor cluster-mates.

Except it hadn't quite worked out like that.

The boat ride had been bad enough, the fairy quarters a cramped afterthought. But then the barge had docked into what was a fair approximation of the Nine Hells. The water surrounding them looked more like tar, except tar was positively fragrant in comparison. The boards of the quayside were equally filthy and swarmed with the huge, bellowing lummoxs who made up the majority of the population. Trixi flew over to the cleanest looking giant, dressed in what could almost be a uniform, if you squinted.

As she approached she suddenly had to take evasive action as it turned its head and spat a vile stream of brown liquid into the canal. Then it seemed to focus on her. At first Trixi thought she was under attack but she eventually realised it was just wagging its huge meaty finger at her to indicate a glass box perched on a tall pole. It was obviously speaking to her too but all she could hear was a churning bass rumble.

"Thank you very much, sir," she shouted politely over her shoulder as she flew off.

Inside the box was a fairy, a grizzled old bloke dressed in similar style to the human.

"New in town, miss? Don't really need to ask that, do I? Without wishing to be presumptive, seems like the best course of action might be for you to get straight back on one of them barges."

"Yes, well, I'm not here out of choice. I don't know how you stand it!"

"A body can grow acclimatised to a great many things, I find, miss. If I can't persuade you as to another destination, what are you looking for in Stanport?"

"Scar's Fairy Bar."

The old gent's eyebrows raised. "You sure you want to go there, miss?"

"No," she said, looking around grimly. "But I need the money."

"Well, it ain't for the likes of me to judge." And he proceeded to give her directions.

Thank the stars that she could fly! She flitted gracefully above the filth and bustle, only occasionally having to dodge murderous looking pigeons and torrents of effluent hurled out of windows.

The dockmaster's directions were sound and even having to navigate decidedly unfamiliar landmarks - no trees! - she soon arrived at her destination. At street level, it looked like any other human establishment but painted on the side of the building was an enormous fairy. A fairy from a more tropical climate than Stanport judging from the amount of skin she was exposing. There was a hole in the brickwork just above her bountiful cleavage and just below her inane grin which must have been the fairy entrance.

It wasn't very welcoming. No balcony, no cloak stand, no resting stool, just a minimal antechamber with a door. If Trixi had had any doubts this was the place, the blood red letters advertising the name of the bar confirmed her location.

Trixi knocked.

No response.

Trixi turned the handle.

The door led into a dim corridor intermittently lit by beadlights. Trixi took a few steps forward and then stopped. What the hells was she doing here? She was just on the verge of turning on her heel and flying back to the docks when another door opened and out stepped a fairy.

"Oh, hi! I'm Trixabelle Ivybridge, I'm here about a job," she said, smiling brightly.

The fairy looked at her. Eventually she hoiked her thumb over her shoulder at the door she'd just come through.

Trixi looked back at her, waiting for more information.

The fairy walked off.

"Okay..." Trixi said to herself.

As soon as Trixi got through the door she stopped. In front of her sat a... thing. He - she assumed? - was sat behind a desk so she couldn't tell exactly how big he was but he had to be nearly a foot tall, twice her height. Skin like a toad, teeth like pointed cones and a row of bright blue quills running from his head down his spine. He looked like the bastard son of a goblin and porcupine.

"I'm a mutt," he said gruffly. "Bit of this, bit of that. And it's rude to stare."

Trixi blushed and started to apologise but he waved her words away and gestured for her to sit before returning to his paperwork.

"I'm, er, Trixabelle Ivybridge and..."

"Experience?" he interrupted, not looking up

Trixi launched into her best sales pitch. She was a top waitress, the best in the business. Elegant, discreet, charming, knowledgeable, indefatigable. She could work all day and her smile would never slip and she would always be one step ahead of her diners in anticipating their needs.

He looked up from his paperwork and stared blankly at her. "That's nice but why do I need a fucking waitress?"

That totally wrong footed trixi. "Um, I was told this was a fairy bar?"

"It is a fairy bar. It ain't a bar for fairies."

Now it was Trixi's turn to look blank. He held her gaze for a moment and then sighed. Deftly he sketched something in the air and a stylised, glowing bell appeared. "Jabber!" he yelled whilst ringing the floating bell with a claw.

"Since I am a fucking philanthropist who has nothing better to do with his time than stopping pig-shit ignorant hicks getting chewed up, digested and shat out by this city, I have asked one of my gamesmasters to step in here for a moment and give you a crash course in telling your arse from your elbow."

"Er, thanks?"

They waited in awkward silence for a while. Well, awkward for Trixi; her nameless potential future boss just went back to work, his guest seemingly forgotten. Finally - thankfully - the other door to the office opened and in walked - presumably - the gamesmaster.

"Boss?"

"Take this fresh meat and show her the ropes."

"Sure thing, boss. Okay, toots, step this way."

In stunned compliance she allowed herself to be led by the arm out of the room.

"Name's Jabber. No jokes, okay? It's just my name?"

Jabber was a pixie but not like any pixie she'd ever seen. Not that she'd seen many. Trixi wasn't racist but where she came from honest folk didn't have anything to do with pixies, they were just... you know.

Humans apparently couldn't tell the difference between fairies and pixies which just proved how stupid they were. I mean, look at those ears! But Trixi had never seen a male fairy or pixie with pierced ears whereas Jabber had three gold rings in his right ear. Alongside this, his hair had somehow been styled into spikes to accompany a pointed beard and curled moustache.

His clothes were even stranger. He wore a boxy jacket made out of animal skin dyed so dark as to be almost black and trousers made from a patchwork of red squares. All in all, he was the strangest looking man she'd ever met. Trixi couldn't imagine any self-respecting fairy dressing similarly but then, pixies were pixies.

"So you do have a job then?"

"We've always got a job for the right candidate, babe."

"But if you don't need a waitress, what is the job?"

"A waitress?" Jabber repeated, incredulously. "This is a fairy bar. A bar for humans to look at fairies. How you going to be carrying a pint pot of ale around? They got them giant bitches to do that. Baalanscar is in charge of all the fairy stuff and fairy stuff means entertaining."

"Well," said Trixi, trying to regain the initiative. "I've been told I'm very entertaining."

"I'll bet," said Jabber, looking her up and down in a way that made her blush. "So, can you dance?"

"I guess?" answered Trixi nervously.

"So dance."

Trixi wasn't really a spontaneous sort; she needed a little shove. When she went out dancing, she usually had a thimble of gin to warm her blood and a posse of friends to egg her on. And ideally a pretty boy to try and impressive. Jabber didn't really fit the bill. Still, she would do her best for her clan.

She raised her hands to her shoulders, fingers pointing to the sky and started to sway. Eyes closing, she stepped forward in the first movement of a traditional two step.

Jabber held up his hand. "Okay, not a dancer. Let's see... I suppose it's too much to ask that you are a carpet eater?"

"Carpet?" she echoed.

"Well, that answers that. How about a fighter?"

"Um, I used to wrestle with my brothers when I was a kid," she said, slightly confused.

"Perfect," he beamed.

Trixi was utterly confused. "So I just have to wrestle? And I get paid?"

"Sort of. There's a few more rules than that though, sweetheart."

"Like?"

"Like there is a special costume so the punters can appreciate the, er, wrestling."

"What sort of costume?" asked Trixi skeptically, remembering the huge, scantily clad fairy painted outside."

"It's a very authentic fairy costume based on that worn by Queen Hyperia's battle maidens."

"Queen Hyperia was an elf."

"Like I said, 'based on'. A - whatjacallit? - a hybrid of traditional fairy fashion and the bold female daring of those elven battle maidens. I think I've got one around here somewhere." Jabber started rummaging about. "Oh yeah, here it is."

"Where's the rest of it?" The pixie was holding what looked like a couple of leaves on a piece of string.

"That's it. Like I said, historical and modern."

"But that outfit is so skimpy you'd see my underwear straight through it."

Jabber snorted. "Not if you aren't wearing any. Which you won't be."

"What!?" Trix shouted, eyes bugging out.

"Come on! This is foxy fairy fighting, you've got to flash a bit of flesh."

"I have to fight a fox?" Trixi shrieked incredulously. Her head was truly spinning now.

"Nah, it's just a human phrase, means sexy. Apparently all of the big guys want to fuck a fox or something."

Trixi shuddered. Was there anything more terrifying than a fox?

"What did you mean I have to wear this thing without underwear?"

"You don't have to do anything, darling," Jabber smirked. "You can walk out of here and I'll never give you a second thought. But if you want to fight, then you gotta dress appropriate."

"And this is appropriate, is it?" said Trixi, archly, as she took the astonishingly immodest garment from Jabber.

"Yep. Appropriate battle gear for a tantalising fairy maiden to prick tease some drunk humans with a bit of hot girl on girl action."

Trixi had no idea what half of those words meant. But then did it matter? She'd travelled for a week to get her, there was a job going and her clan were depending on her. Sighing, she looked down at the tiny outfit. "Where do I change?"

"Here's fine," said Jabber with a smirk.

"No, thank you," Trixi replied primly. "Where does everyone else get changed?"

"They get changed in the changing room. But that is for employees and you ain't an employee."

Trixi had had a long, demoralising day and she was getting near the end of her tether.

"Listen, buster, it's true I need a job. But it sounds to me like you need, er, foxy fairy fighters. How many girls looking like me do you get strolling in here every day? So maybe treat me like a potential employee."

"True enough, you are a fucking babe. Okay, sure, maybe I can sort something out."

He beckoned her down the passage to a door with a fade star painted on the front and the word 'TALENT' in the centre. Trixi suppressed a shudder. The tawdry irony was clearly invisible to Jabber and he pushed straight through.

"Er, you might want to announce yourself?" Trixi said in surprise.

Jabber looked blank. "Why?"

"Because it's the changing room. The women's changing room."

"So?" he replied, continuing through the door.

It turned out that the changing room was empty. It was a chaotic mess of shards of glass and tin mirrors, stools, facepaint and baskets of street clothes. Hand bills were stuck to the walls and there were multi-coloured beadlights and strands of tinsel striving to give the room a bit of glamour. Striving and failing. The overwhelming impression was the sour smell of stale sweat. That and the conspicuous lack of privacy.

"This is it?"

Jabber laughed. "What were you expecting, princess?"

"Okay, leave and I'll get changed."

"Nu-uh. I can't just leave you alone in here with all this stuff."

Trixi looked around the room. "What stuff?"

"Valuables and that."

Trixi stared at him.

"Fine, maybe you can use Rx's room. Just don't touch any of her shit. I think she's working in the back room but let me just check."

Jabber knocked on a door that Trixabelle hadn't even realised was a door. There was no response so he opened it and ushered her in.

It was little more than a broom closet but that was substantially more space than the other girls got to themselves. Trixi wondered what Rx had done to earn it.

There were pegs to hang clothes, the mirror was bigger and clearer, there was a wider range of nicer looking creams on the dresser... and there was a frankly terrifying selection of dildos.

Trixi was no stranger to dildos. After all, fairies knew the physical and spiritual importance of self-love. Her mother had given her a beautiful toy on her 18th birthday, carved from wood and polished to a lustrous shine. A family heirloom passed down from generation to generation. "A starter," her mother had called it. True enough, Trixabelle had upgraded to something a bit fatter and - how to put this? - more anatomically correct by her next birthday.

These dildos were bigger. A lot bigger. And if they were anatomically correct, she dreaded to think what anatomy they were based on.

Tentatively she poked one. It quivered.

With a deep breathe, Trixi put these thoughts from her mind and started to undress. Soon she was completely naked in this tiny room in this strange town, many, many miles from her friends and family. Trixabelle felt the sting of tears welling in her eyes but fought them back. To distract herself, she looked in the mirror. What she saw pleased her.

A lover had once approvingly described her figure as 'tidy' and she'd always rather liked that assessment. Her breasts were two pert scoops that sat high on her chest and sloped up to proud little nips. They were enough to hold - and fun to squeeze - without needing any support. She would have hated to be one of those fairies who couldn't fly anywhere without binding her boobs. Underneath was her trim little tummy, an opal stud gleaming in her cute bellybutton. Down further to her tidiest place of all and then on to a pair of leanly muscled and perfectly proportioned legs. Canting her hips, she saw the ripe swell of her bum come into view in the mirror, as firm and juicy as a peach. Yep, looking pretty good. Wasted on these scumbags though, she thought, her mood souring slightly.

Then her literal reflection was interrupted by a harsh pounding on the door.

"You ready or what? I haven't got all day. Time is money."

"Coming," she shouted back in annoyance. Then she held up the awful, degrading costume in front of her. For the greater good, she reminded herself as she quickly got changed.

Jabber whistled as she emerged. "That was worth the wait! Pretty tasty. You might be a hit, baby. Can't wait to see what you look like when it comes off."

Trixi gave him a hard look. "What do you mean 'off'?"

"I mean, this is foxy fairy fighting. You ain't exactly wearing a beeherd's armour. Accidents have been known to happen, even with little titties like yours. And by 'known', I mean 'encouraged'. It's what the punters want. It's what the fighters want too. There's good coin in a nip slip."

She should have know. Of course the costume wasn't humiliating enough; of course they weren't paying her that well just to prance around in glorified underwear. Maybe she'd have been better off with the mud-wraiths after all...

"Are you in or out?"

It was the moment of truth. Trixabelle tugged nervously at the hem of her skirt. "Okay, I'm in."

***

From the balcony, you could see the whole of the front bar. It was like gazing into lowest circle of hell.

The noise was extraordinary. The humans seemed to communicate solely by bellowing, occasionally punctuated by cheering, like a sea of drunken ogres. There were braziers as well as beadlights and many of the humans were sucking on pipes so great clouds of greasy smoke pooled at the ceiling. Thankfully this did at least mostly mask the smells of sweat and piss. Mostly. Any fairy would be ashamed to run a tavern like this.

"Okay, you're over there on table nine."

"How am I going to get over there?"

He looked at her incredulously. "You're a fairy, ain't you? Fly!"

"But I'm not wearing any knickers," she hissed. "Anyone could see straight up my skirt!"

"Listen, sexy," Jabber said, taking out his cigar with a sigh. "In about ten minutes time you are probably going to be bare-ass naked with your tits and pussy on display for everyone in here. And I, for one, can't wait. So quit being a fresh off the barge princess and get over there and earn your money."

His words didn't exactly sooth Trixi's nerves but they did motivate her to get moving. She flew across the room with her thighs pressed primly together and landed in the centre of the table.

Above her loomed three giant humans, the smell and the noise coming off of them was simply unbelievable at these close quarters. Around her stretched the ring, which she suspected was repurposed human crockery. Around that was arrayed a selection of jugs, flagons and bottles that were all taller than. And opposite her stood her opponent.

The fairy she was to fight was dressed in the same ridiculous get up but hers was brown rather than green. She was a good couple of ounces heavier than her and most of that extra weight seemed to be located in her boobs. Trixi had thought the top was inadequate for her pert little pair but her opponent had more flesh on display than a butcher's counter.

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