Stump

Once the bodies were piled, he strode off to stand a dozen strides from the pile, pushed and prodded the girl until stood behind him and concentrated on the red stone in his hand.

He pictured flames consuming the pile, bodies burning and contracting as the fluids in their bodies dehydrated from the heat. He saw their hair catch fire and smelled cooking flesh. He watched the heat shimmer as the fire burned hotter and hotter. He could almost feel its heat on his skin.

All of a sudden, an bright red light appeared in the air right above the heap of bodies and descended slowly. When it touched them, it flared white hot and expanded, consuming the bodies in a boiling, blistering, blazing fire, hotter than the hottest forge.

Stump pedaled backwards as the bodies were consumed, the red stone in his hand glowed red from deep inside and was nearly as hot as an ember pulled from a fire.

Less than a minute later, nothing remained besides a pile of smoking ashes, small pieces of blackened bone, the smell of scorched flesh and quickly cooling air.

Grunting in satisfaction, he put the stone in a pouch at his waist. It may just come in handy at some point in the future, especially since winter was not far off.

Satisfied he'd done what he could, he turned around and bounced off the young armored knight standing right behind him with a clang and rattle of metal.

He took a moment to look up at her, noting dents on her armor and the smears and splashes of blood on it. He couldn't tell if the blood was hers. As far as he'd been able to determine, she wasn't wounded.

It was nearly dusk and he had to finish up so he could get back to his snug little cabin with the slaughtered buck. He'd come back for the head, skin and antlers tomorrow, they were worth a good bit of silver at the market. A ten-point buck wasn't easy to find.

He piled the arms, armor and full packs in a cloak and started dragging them. He'd have to come back for them as well, he decided, they were too heavy to carry or drag. He tried to drag them under a clump of bushes and felt them become light as a feather. When he turned to see what happened, he saw the tall beautiful woman had taken a hold of the cloak and started dragging.

She hadn't taken her wide trusting eyes off him for a second and he had a feeling the young knight would follow him wherever he went.

She did, dragging the heavy arms and armor behind her effortlessly.

He stopped.

Did he want her to follow him? Did he want to take care of her until she recovered from her head wound? What if she didn't recover or if it took a long time? Did he want to be responsible for her?

From the way she acted, the blow to head had scrambled her brains. When he pressed the rag to her head, he'd noticed the area gave somewhat, where her skull should've been hard and firm. The blow to her head must have fractured her skull.

He looked up at her. The sun was going down and her face was in shadow.

With a head wound like that, there was a good chance she'd go to sleep tonight and never wake up. He'd seen it before.

He sighed. It's not as if he could make her do something she didn't want to. She wasn't just tall, she was enormously strong, even if her brain wasn't working right. If she wanted to follow him, she would. It was too late to kill her with a dagger through the heart. That chance had come and gone... or so he told himself. He never liked killing women.

Shrugging, he decided to let her follow and see what happened. Worse comes to worse, he'd get his rocks off and fuck her when she passed out. He was a Goblin after all.

Shouldering more than half a dozen packs, Stump tossed the deer head and skin on top if her bundle and led the way to his cabin, the young woman followed close on his heels, refusing to let him out of her sight.

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Chapter 2

Stump's Cabin

He and the young knight arrived at his cabin well after dark. Dropping the packs slung on his shoulders, he took the game bags and hung the meat from the rafters in his shed, dumped the packs, arms and armor on the floor, closed the door and limped wearily to his cabin.

He glanced up at the beautiful young woman's weary face, opened the door and went inside. He left the door open and watched her duck down to enter his house. It was built to accommodate him, so everything was scaled for a four foot eight Goblin and not a six and a half foot tall human.

She stood near the entrance, her golden hair brushing the ceiling, looking down at him. Her head, face and neck were covered in dried blood and her lovely face drooped with exhaustion.

She hadn't spoken a word since he'd discovered she was alive. She hadn't answered his questions or seemed to understand him at all.

Stump limped around her several times, examining her armor and how it was buckled. Figuring it out, he began unbuckling it... armored boots, greaves, leg braces, vambrace, gorget, gauntlets, pauldrons, and breastplate under which lay a mail hauberk. Finally, she stood before him in a long, padded tunic stained with rust and dried blood.

The tunic came down to mid-thigh, revealing long muscular legs, shapely and pale. He ran his eyes up and down her body, nothing the wide flaring hips, large firm breasts and wide shoulders. She was slim but powerfully muscled, yet her body was voluptuous in its feminine roundness. She looked fierce and strong, but incredibly and intimately female. He reached down, readjusted his throbbing cock and shifted his full aching balls.

He knew she was watching him and was expecting the normal reaction. It was at this point most women screamed at him and told him how disgusting he was. The young woman just stood there. There was no judgement in her eyes, no disgust, not panic, no revulsion.

He knew what he looked like. He was a 78-year-old Goblin, twisted and bent, wrinkled and wizened, with mottled green-gray leathery skin, a potbelly, large bulging eyes and knobby knees and elbows.

Stump knew there was something wrong with the young woman's head. Her brains had been addled when she took that hammer hit to her head. He'd only seen her for a few moments during the battle and she'd appeared normal, but now she most definitely was not.

Scrambled brains or not, his warped body demanded he mate with her, but his long dormant conscience told him told him not to. He'd briefly considered sticking his knife through her brain right after she'd gained consciousness. He'd always enjoyed killing, if he had a good reason, but it just didn't seem right in that instance. He'd never liked killing women, even when they deserved it.

Suddenly, he heard dripping liquid and noticed urine trickling down the young woman's long legs to pool at her feet on the floorboards. She just stood there staring at him, giving no sign that she noticed or cared.

Stump reached out, took her hand and led her to a patch of grass outside. Her lower body was drenched when she finished and all she did was stare at him, her innocent green eyes, trusting and childlike.

When he talked to her, she seemed to respond to his low raspy voice.

"It's okay, h-h-honey," he said soothingly, stumbling over the last word and patting her long slender hand. "I'll take care of that mess and you just worry about getting yourself better."

He noticed her shivering in the cold night air and led her back into his cabin. He had her stand aside and cleaned up the wet mess, then he somehow got her to kneel in front of him, she was still taller, and pulled off the padded tunic and the wet short clothes she wore under it and set them aside. He'd need to measure them in case he had to make her some clothes and was glad he'd had the foresight to take the slain men's clothes along with their armor. Some of them might fit her.

She wore a tight, constrictive shirt that flattened and mashed her full breasts closer to her skin. He took that off too and felt the renewed ache in his balls as the beautiful young woman knelt naked before him.

She was an absolute wonder, as beautiful as a spring morning. Her skin was as soft and fair as creamy silk, except for the score or so battle scars crisscrossing her long lean body, her breasts were exceptionally large and firm, tipped with small pink nipples, her waist was narrow, and her rounded hips were wide. She also had a long, lovely neck, fairly small feet for a woman her height and long, slender sword-callused hands. She wasn't deformed and she didn't have some growth abnormality. Her dimensions were the same as any other woman, she was just incredibly tall.

After adjusting himself yet again, he dug up a soft absorbent hide he used as a hand towel, wetted it from a nearby wash basin and first wiped the blood from her, holding the cool hide to the large lump on her forehead then he gently wiped her loins and lower body. He'd been around women before, though never with one so beautiful, so he sort of knew what to do.

When he finished, she took the soiled hide from him and imitated everything he'd done. She wiped his face first, it smelled of blood and urine, but he stood still and let her continue. Then she hooked her fingers at the top of his pants and tried to pull them down.

"WHOA there, honey," he said, pushing her hands away and stepping back in alarm. "We can't have that."

He couldn't believe his restraint. He knew this beautiful young human woman would probably let him take her. But doing so now was wrong. He was absolutely sure of it. It would be like assaulting an innocent and he wouldn't and couldn't do it.

He'd never had a conscience before. It felt strange to have one now.

She stayed kneeling as he made a bed of blankets and furs next to his bed, even bringing down his own goose-down stuffed pillow, then he led her to it and pushed her down on her side onto the soft pile. It was warm, soft and welcoming.

As soon as her head touched the pillow, she smiled, sighed, closed her eyes and was instantly asleep... only for an instant. She woke in a panic and grabbed him, held him close to her in a powerful embrace and fell instantly back to sleep.

Stump's face was smothered in the valley between her full breasts, as soft as pillows and firmer and larger than any he'd ever experienced in his long eventful life. He tried to break away from her while his pelvis thrust against her, his raging hard cock prodding at the girl's genital area.

She had a firm grip on the old Goblin. He fought to get out of her embrace but gave up after only a short struggle. He desperately wanted to reach down, release his monster cock, rub himself on the sparse soft golden pubic hair, shove his thick twisted cock inside her, and cum deep her belly... but he held back. It just wasn't right.

When the hell had he grown a conscience, he asked himself again? He'd never had one before... then he remembered the girl's enormous green eyes, as soft, innocent and trusting as a babe's.

Fuck!

He relaxed in her strong arms after a few minutes, thinking he'd never be able to fall asleep, but it had been a long eventful day, so he brought up his spindly arms and hugged her big soft breasts, sandwiching his lumpy head in their warmth, closed his eyes and fell instantly asleep.

As was his wont, he woke at dawn. His eyes opened and he wondered where he was. Nothing looked or felt familiar. He lay on his side, engulfed by a large warm female body. His cock was as hard as a rock and pressed firmly against her.

It took a split second for him to remember.

He couldn't take it. He reached down between them, lowered his pants, released his monster cock and felt the sensitive glans rub against the girl's downy soft pubic hair. He groaned at the exquisite feel of it.

His head was in a fog of lust.

Stump had only ever been with whores. He preferred human whores. They were the only ones willing to have sex with him but they were always expensive. The hideous old hags willing to lay with him did so only if they'd make a good bit of gold. He'd grown tired of seeing the disgust on their faces, their revulsion and fear when they saw his enormous deformed cock and massive balls. He'd stayed away from them. Years ago, he'd even gone to a Goblin tribe and had been run out of there with axes and spears. So he'd never even had a chance to mate with one of his race.

There had only ever been one woman to take her time with him. Loredana, the first whore he'd lain with when he'd finally earned or stolen enough gold to buy her services. She was the only woman willing to give him sex for gold and to teach him about women.

He'd been an eager student.

Because she was old, in her 60s, Loredana had trouble attracting customers. At the sight of a pouch filled near to bursting with gold coins in his clawed hands she'd agreed to be Stump's first.

She'd once been a proud beauty, large breasted and fulsome, always in great demand in the brothels where she'd worked, but as the years hurled by and her beauty faded, her breasts sagged and her skin wrinkled with age, fewer and fewer men wanted her.

She took her time with Stump. The pouch full of gold he was willing to pay her was more than she'd make in six months so she decided to make his first experience something to remember. A high paying repeat customer would make her life easier. She'd sold her body to some repulsive men in the past so she figured it was no big deal to take on the ugly young Goblin.

The old woman was barely able to take the Goblin's enormous cock and to her amazement, discovered the lumps and knobs on his cock were incredibly pleasurable. He was insatiable, cumming inside her several times before he was satisfied, and usually left her exhausted, bathed in sweat and limp as a rag doll when he finally left her dwelling.

She grew to enjoy his visits and taught him how to pleasure her. She was shocked to discover how much the hideous young Goblin enjoyed pleasuring her. The more he made her cum, the more excited he got. It was a mutually enjoyable experience for both of them, but eventually his gold ran out and he was left to fend for himself.

As the years passed, his libido was as strong as ever, but years of experience had given him some control.

Now, more than 60 years later he was stretched out against a beautiful young human woman rubbing his bare knotted cock against her furry pubis. He pictured her lovely face, her big round breasts, her blonde muff and his cock pulled back, then thrust forward and exploded jet after jet of thick yellowish cum onto her pubic hair. His small body convulsed and he pressed his cock hard against her as he came, leaving their groins covered and the furs soaked in thick slimy goo.

She never woke up, though she'd squirmed and moaned when his cockhead had slipped between her plump outer labia.

He lay panting for a few moments, recovering his breath.

The cabin was dark and cold, except for the cocoon of warmth created by their two bodies under the furs.

The girl's arms were wrapped loosely around him, he was able to squirm out of her embrace fairly easily. By the light of the rising sun, he saw goosebumps appear on her breasts and her pink nipples darkened and hardened as the cabin's cold air struck her warm skin. He quickly covered her and made his way to the privy where he urinated and cleaned himself.

If he didn't wash himself and the girl soon, they'd smell like a troll's asshole for days.

With a sharp-toothed grin, Stump pictured bathing her.

Then he frowned.

Fuck, he had to wash the bed furs and the clothes he'd been wearing too.

Even worse, what if she never wakes up? What should he do with her? Should he put a dagger through her heart? Should he care for her and hope she wakes up eventually?

He looked down at her sleeping form. She looked innocent and peaceful. She was breathing normally and sleeping comfortably.

He went about his morning chores, looking in on her on occasion.

He salted and smoked the venison after spending several hours cutting it into strips. He inspected the booty brought back from the battle, inventorying the items and deciding what to keep and what to sell.

Around late afternoon, he stepped into the house and looked down at her sleeping form again with concern. She wasn't sleeping restfully now, she was grimacing in pain and her skin was red and moist.

She was still wrapped in the soiled skins so he pulled them off her and inspected her lithe well-muscled body.

Filling his wash basin with water, he used a clean cloth to bathe the blood, sweat and his sticky yellow cum from her body. While wiping blood from her waist, he noticed a puncture wound on her left side right below her ribs. It wasn't bleeding anymore but he could see something dimpling the skin outward, as if there was something pushing out from the inside.

It had only been a day, but the skin around the wound was hot and red. Whatever was in there had to come out.

Many years ago, he'd watched an old cleric boil a thick set of tweezers before using them to pull an arrowhead from a companion's thigh. He'd asked him why he'd boiled them first and the old man said it would keep the wound from festering. Over many years, he'd seen men die from infected wounds when the tools used on them weren't boiled and had used it along with other skills learned from healers all over the land. Despite his lack of healing magic, he'd become a more than competent healer.

He'd made a number of ointments, salves, unguents and potions while living in his lonely cabin. He'd had to depend on himself over the years and had perfected drying and converting healing plants into substances he could easily spread on wounds or drink to rid him of certain ailments.

He boiled a pair of tweezers and pulled a thin sliver of wood from her side, probably from a spear or javelin, washed out the wound with the boiled water, put a poultice on it from a special kind of moss he'd found in the forest and bandaged it. He then made a poultice for the girl's head wound and wrapped a bandage around her head.

He trickled water into her mouth again and again. He didn't want her to dehydrate. She needed fluids in order to fight the festering puncture wound in her side.

He found some old furs and made a fresh bed next to her and rolled her on them, then hesitantly covered her. She looked so damn good naked.

After all this time touching the girl, caring for her, soothing her as she squirmed and twisted in the midst of fever nightmares, he had to take a moment to go outside and take care of some urgent business. He'd been nursing an erection the whole time he'd cared for her, so as soon as he stepped out of the cabin, he dropped his pants and jerked off like a madman, roaring as he came. Taking a shovel from his shed, he scooped up the mess and dropped it out of sight.

When he came back in, he gathered up the items he'd used to care for the girl, put them in the wash basin and washed everything in the stream chuckling 20 steps from his cabin. He'd chosen this spot well, it provided for all his needs throughout the year. He had shelter, wood and an easily accessible source of water nearby. He usually used the water piped into his cabin but it was a nice day outside.

Days passed, and then weeks and the girl didn't wake. He considered ending her life but just couldn't make himself to it. He'd knelt over her recumbent form with a dagger in his hand dozens of times, raised it... only to sheath it with a curse.

Something kept him from going through with it, a feeling deep down in his gut or maybe something else, perhaps the gods?

After three weeks to the day, the girl woke.

He usually checked her at midday to make sure she was dry and comfortable. He'd taken to wrapping a kind of diaper around her loins, packing it with absorbent sweet smelling moss to keep her dry and prevent him from having to constantly wash the bedding furs on which she lay.