Troll Bridge Terror

The bridgekeeper struggled to free himself from the ice crystals that packed over his boots, holding his feet flush to the ground, but it was pointless.
“That should teach you to defy the will of the high elves!” yelled the notoriously snobish brat of an ice witch from over her shoulder as she swaggered accross the bridge to the other side. The bridgekeeper had been defeated in direct confrontation, all over the matter of a few simple copper coins toll intended as payment for use of the bridge and to raise funds for maintenance of the countryside roads it connected. Now he was halfway to feezing to death, his booth was in spinters from a miniature glacier, and he was desperately trying to find a way to escape from the ice creeping up his legs.

The arrogant witch turned at watched her latest victim struggle as the frostbite curse enclosed the naieve human in its chilly grip. She chuckled to herself with evil pride, as he cried out for help and started chipping away at some of the ice with a pathetically tiny mallet. If help didnt come soon, he was doomed, and she knew it.
“you want your palm crossed with coin? here!” As she rested her weight on her icecrystal wand, a single copper coin flicked up into the air from her thumb over the side of the bridge into the river below.
“peasant trash like you are nothing more than insects to me” She raised her wand and pointed straight at the terrified man “and now for the killing swat!”

One false move, and it would be over. He would be encased in a wall of ice, that by the time it melted in tomorrows sun, would have chilled him to the bone and left him expired beyond revival. Just as the deadly icicle began weaving from the tip of his oppenents wand, a rock flew in from nowhere and deflected the most lethal of the magical energies straight back onto the evil witch. Most of the energies were deflected – he raised his arms to shield his face, then eveything went black.

When we woke, he felt his body wedged underneath something big, heavy, and pleasant. He opened his eyes groggily and looked around the interior of the cave lit only by a small firepit close by. He was snuggled in a bed of furry animal skins, something meaty smelling was cooking in the caste iron pot boiling over the fire, and something was gripping him like a vice accross his chest and over his legs…something that felt like it was breathing in and out down the back of his neck.

He tried to leap out of bed as soon as he realised he was not dreaming. The witch, the bridge, the ice, the rock; what happened? And most importantly, he knew as a matter of fact that no one in this realm lived in a cave. no one human anyway. But his limbs were so full of pins and needles they would simply not obey him any more than tremble. He turned his head, and came face to face with the sternum of some larger humanoid creature. He had apparently been using the breasts of this creature as a pillow. Curiosity turned to dread when he realised he was obviously outmuscled by whatever kind of humanoid this was – male or female. His vision wandered upwards accross the coarse dark skin over the chest of the female beast, up the sinew cords of her neck, past the sabertoothed jawline, and into the eyes of the beast itself.

She was a troll. A kind of sub category of humans that appeared in the magical catastrophe that caused fully half the known human population to transform into various enclaves of fantastic creatures crossed with man and beast along with orcs, ogres, elves, dwarves, and a whole menagerie of half human magical creations. He had heard terrible things about the trolls though – cannibals, night stalkers, terrorising isolated villages for loot, and dragging away innocent bystanders for satiate their tast for human flesh. If he wasnt frozen just before, he certainly was now from fear.

“you finally woke up” said her deep hoary voice accented by the small tusk like teeth that poked out at the corners of her mouth. “I hope your warm enough now after what the witch did to you at the bridge”.
He stared back into her eyes with feline pupils. “Im sorry, was that your territory? Please, please dont eat me”
That made the she troll giggle a bit at she raised herself up, letting his head thud on the sackcloth below,and straddled him like riding a horse.
“dont worry cute human, Im strong enough to protect you if she ever tries to get her broken wand back when she thaws out”
She flashed a toothy grin, as she placed her brawny fists on her hips and inhaled while flexing her muscles to impress her captive. “you can always just hide behind a big troll like me, im as strong as an ox”

He was speechless, terrified, and strangely aroused all at the same time. without realising it at first, he had pitched a tent of his own in the crude sheet of his bed at the sight of his new muscular dominator. The she troll chuckled again, and changed her pose.
“do you like what you see, human? am I strong enough to protect you from your huntress?”
Her fists opened to paws and were brought down to her waist as she flexed as much muscle as she could for him at once. Her laterals flared out like the hood of a cobra, her traps at the sides of her neck bulged up, hair from her armpits bristled under her shoulders and her pectorals heavend her breasts apart her chest filled with volume.

His dick never felt so hard before. Maybe this was a dream of a dying man, his last thoughts were hallucinations of his favourite sexual fetish of muscle bulging against muscle on a female body. He looked at her cooking pot, just sitting there, boiling something away inside….he checked his own body to make sure none of his limbs had been sawed off in his sleep. He suddenly noticed again that the cooking pot was acually much larger and farther away than first thought. It was massive! enough to feed a whole troop of men, enough to cook and entire animal. maybe she was going to eventually cook him? just keep him here like a pet, fattening him up, stuffing him full and pinching his meat until he was just right to go into her own monsterous belly as her favorite meal?

He struggled a little, but he was exhausted and weak as a kittten. She seemed friendly enough at first, but all he could do was hope that was to last.

she leaned over him and put her face up close. A tongue like a bathroom mat licked up the side of his neck to his cheek on the side of his face. The primitive show of affection and concern did little to put him at ease. He fainted right on the spot hoping his captor would at least spare him from torture.