The police helicopter clattered over the deserted waste ground that had once been a factory but had long since been abandoned. The door of the chopper slid open and Jinx felt the howling gale in her face. She tightened the belt of her bright pink jumpsuit, slid on her shades and fastened her long dark hair in a slinky ponytail. The pilot gave her a thumbs up. She smiled. Then she jumped into clean air.

Two trolls had been seen in the area, running away from the newsagents they had vandalised. It was her job to find them.

She landed with the agility of a cat and flicked a little stray dust from her uniform. She liked the jumpsuit. It was cool against the skin, it helped her move freely and it felt so sexy. Pink wouldn’t have been her colour, though. It was chosen by the government when they set up the TPS. The Troll Pacification Squad.

Trolls had become a social problem. The younger generation were not content to remain in the dingy housing estates where their parents lived and where they could be contained. They kept getting out of control, getting drunk and running amok. Ordinary law abiding citizens were terrified. The press demanded action and so the TPS was born. They were an elite unit, and they only recruited the best. They only recruited girls with special talents. Girls like Jinx.

Kneeling, she sniffed the ground. There was a slight impress of a footprint and an unmistakable scent. She smiled.

To the general public, trolls were nightmarish creatures. They were like big, snarling dogs, all teeth and muscle and attitude. If you saw a troll walking along the pavement, you got out of the way. But if you knew what you were doing, trolls were easy to tame, and Jinx knew what she was doing.

She covered the ground quickly, her lithe body, honed through hundred of hours of gymnastics, aerobics and tantric gyrations enabled her to move twice as fast as any troll. She leapt over a boulder as though it was a pommel horse, somersaulted through a window, performed three forward flips on the crumbling stone stairs and executed a perfect landing on the edge of what had once been the first floor of the factory. She rested on her haunches and reached behind her back for her bow.

At the Academy the girls were taught how to move swiftly and without a sound. Even though trolls were known for their acute hearing, the two lumbering green specimens below had no idea she was there.

“Hello there!”

The trolls looked around, bewildered.

“Up here boys!”

They looked up confused. Then they started to run. Too late.

She launched herself into the air like a diver, arching her back, then as she fell to earth, fired two blasts of her bow in rapid succession, before landing and performing a perfect forward roll. She stood, smiled, reholstered her bow and removed her sunglasses.

The thing about trolls is that they have a big, big weakness; a weakness that a girl like Jinx was born to exploit.

They were lying side by side, on their backs, scrabbling in the dirt as they tried to free their ankles from the binding. As she walked towards them, she unhooked her hair, and shook it, letting it fall free. She let her hips sway provocatively. The sight of her long toned legs, her flat stomach and her tight, pert bum in that clingy pink jump suit had mesmerised them. Trolls were so predictable, she smiled.

She squatted down on her haunches between them.

“So, who’s first?”

Both trolls were breathing hard, making that disgusting snorting noise that comes with having the facial features of a pig and teeth that are so large you can’t close your mouth.

“Hmm. Well, you’re both pleased to see me, I can tell, but I think, yes, you’re more pleased, definitely, so we’ll take care of you first.”

She slid one hand along his leg. Trolls didn’t wear many clothes, often going around barefoot and bare-chested, but they always wore trousers, and the fashion amongst young trolls was for human shorts that were ridiculously tight. As she moved her hand up his green, scaly, muscular thigh, the bulge in his denim shorts grew larger and larger until there was a distinct ripping sound.

Jinx giggled. She rubbed the back of her hand lightly against his bulge and he groaned, lifting his back up off the ground. At that moment the distressed denim gave way completely with a tearing rip. His cock, freed from its prison, stood erect and throbbing, green veins on either side of the thick shaft.

Jinx bit her lip. Everything about trolls disgusted her. Everything except their enormous, fabulous cocks. This one was twelve inches long, about average. When he was fully grown, this troll could be packing about two foot, or more.

She knelt down, straddling his knees, pressing him into the dirt and wrapped her long, slender fingers around him. You had to be careful not to get into range of a troll’s reach or they could do you some serious damage. But she knew what she was doing. As she went to work with her fingers, she could already hear the deep animal growling at the base of his throat that meant he was close.

Trolls had a peculiar anatomy. They were top heavy, for a start, which is why they’d evolved such large feet, as a counter balance, and once knocked to the ground, they found it very hard to get up unaided.

They were also odd for their sexual habits. Male trolls were permanently on the edge of arousal, yet rarely achieved orgasm. Scientists had not yet discovered why this should be, but it had something to do with the relatively short mating season in troll communities. Whatever the reason, it was well known that, after a male troll ejaculated, he would be unable to do so again for three months or so. An incidental, but vital side-effect was that ejaculation rendered a troll completely and utterly exhausted, unable to walk more than a few metres, for several days at a time.

Jinx’s fingers played his swollen cock expertly. She remembered practising on that enormous rubber cock they had at the Academy, she remembered dreaming about it, fantasising about it, until the thought of it made her drool.

Troll women couldn’t make their husbands orgasm unless they wanted to, and for a normal human girl to induce a troll orgasm would be impossible.

But Jinx knew what she was doing. She loved her work and she was very, very good at it. As her fingers slid up and down his cock, and he bucked and groaned beneath her, she gazed into his yellow eyes with fascinated lust, the tip of her tongue peeking between her lips as she felt his gurgling roar and a choking noise deep in his throat and she held his cock till the last possible second before leaping backwards and sideways out of the way as a volcano of bright green troll cum erupted into the air.

“My, you needed that, didn’t you.”

The first troll had his eyes closed and was sighing, his lizard tongue rattling in his mouth. He would probably sleep for four hours and when she had finished with the other one, she’d radio for a back up patrol to pick these two up and dump them somewhere in the nearest troll estate. Capturing a troll by force was a risky and dangerous business, let alone finding a safe way to imprison them. Far easier and cheaper to incapacitate them this way.

The second troll had his teeth clenched tightly as though he was in pain.

“Aww, no need to be worried. It won’t hurt a bit,” said Jinx, smiling, as she straddled his thighs and began to unbutton his shorts. She had read a newspaper report some days earlier, which claimed that TPS girls had become a source of pornographic material for trolls, and that the rooms of teenage troll boys were plastered in pictures of pink-clad sex goddesses.

She wondered, as she pulled his ten inch monster out of his shorts, whether this troll had a photo of her in his room, whether he gazed at her with lust as he stroked himself. The thought of it made her feel tingly all over. Masturbation was common and acceptable in troll communities. Ejaculation, on the other hand, was regarded as a shameful and embarrassing weakness.

Jinx’s fingers were soon doing their work, and after a minute or two of playing his gleaming cock, she executed her trademark move, the trick that had tipped a hundred trolls over the edge. He bucked and snorted. But he didn’t cum.

She tried it again. And again. And again. Nothing happened. He was hard, he was breathing fast, but she couldn’t make him cum. She went through all of her techniques. Butterfly fingers. Slow-tantric-stroking. She squeezed. She pumped. She straddled his cock with her body, rubbing herself against him. It didn’t work.

Jinx frowned. This was taking far too long. There was only one thing for it. The TPS girl’s last resort.

Closing her eyes, she leant forward, took a deep breath and slid her lips over his cock. It tasted foul. But she forced herself. Up and down, flicking her tongue against him, allowing her teeth to just catch the tip for a split second, teasing his swollen balls with her delicate fingers, taking him as far down as she could bear until she felt her throat swell and her gag reflex beginning, pulling off him again, gasping in gulps of air then going down on him again.

But although he squirmed and snorted louder than ever, he didn’t cum.

Then she made a mistake. She got too close. In trying to take him all into her throat, she leaned too far forward. The flat of his hand connected with the side of her head. She sprawled backwards onto the dirt.

When she came too, he was gone.


He wasn’t hard to track. His route took him back into town. She sprinted past a row of shops, all with their window smashed in and their doors shattered. There were overturned parked cars in the street, debris strewn everywhere, a petrol station that had erupted in gorillas of flame, people standing around taking photographs.

Then she saw him. A flash of green on the balcony of a block of flats. A crowd was milling about at the bottom. She threaded her way through and sprinted inside. The lift was out of order, so she took the stairs, making rapid, nimble progress until she reached the seventh floor. She could hear him on the floor above, his heavy tread and heavier breathing.

She needed the element of surprise. So she hopped up onto the balcony and began to climb. From ledge to ledge and window to window she made swift progress up the outside of the block until she pulled herself up onto the top of the building, just in time to see him sprinting across the roof.

“Going somewhere?” she yelled and fired her bow. The weighted rope snared his legs just at the moment he jumped, yet it didn’t stop him. She sprinted across to the edge, just in time to see him land on the roof of the tower block opposite. Taking a deep breath she jumped, tucking her feet underneath her and just making the gap, clinging onto the roof by her finger nails, then hauling herself up.

“You know, you really are a stubborn boy,” she said, dusting herself down and approaching the troll who had toppled to the ground and was trying to shuffle away. “But I know just the thing to sort you out.”

Jinx knelt at his feet. From her belt she produced a small, pink pouch. She opened it. Inside it was a feather.

Trolls had another anatomical curiosity that no-one fully understood. The sense receptors in their enormous feet were linked to the same part of the brain that governed sexual arousal.

Jinx smiled. She leaned forward and breathed, lightly, on his toes.

He wriggled and shuffled backwards. But he was at the edge of the roof now. There was nowhere else to go.

She breathed on his toes again. He groaned. She put her head close to the floor and breathed on the soles of his feet. He protested. With her finger tip she traced a tentative line from his toes across the sole of his foot to his heel as he writhed and tried to escape. She fluttered all her finger tips across the wide flat sole of his foot. He writhed and kicked and squirmed. Then with the pink feather she lightly stroked the sole of his other foot, unbearably slowly. He cried out.

She smiled.

At that moment she felt scaly hands grab her. Something was on her head, then pulled down over her face, then darkness.


She woke up. The room was dingy and the ceiling was filthy. She lay, flat on her back, on some kind of board. She looked at her arms. They were tied to the board with red ribbons. She couldn’t move her legs either. With great effort she lifted up her head to look out of the window. On the wall of the building opposite was lurid troll graffiti. She groaned. She must have crossed into the troll estate when she jumped. How stupid she had been!

The door opened and four young trolls entered. Trolls didn’t smile, but if they could have smiled, these four would have been smirking. They were all wearing tight shorts, all of them sporting bulges, all of them clearly aroused at having a TPS girl, a pink goddess, helpless before them. One of them had a camera.

She tried to follow what they were doing, but they surrounded her and she didn’t know which one to watch. Then she felt a tightening of her jump suit. It pulled impossibly tight against her thighs, her butt, her nipples, then all at once the pressure relented and with a horrific ripping sound, the jump suit was torn to pieces. They made short work of it, using their claws to delicately remove the material.

She was naked. She trembled. She thought of all the trolls she’d had at her mercy in the last few months. How often had she relented? Never.

She felt a little tickle on her toe at first, a tiny, insignificant thing, which she tried to wriggle free of, but couldn’t. The tickling became more insistent, then it started up on her other toe. She frowned, trying to move her feet, to kick them off her. That didn’t work. They started tickling the balls of her feet

She bit her lip, trying to remain perfectly still, to desensitize her body. It worked for a few seconds, then she felt more tickling at her shoulders. That made her jump and she forgot her control, shrieking wildly and loudly.

“Please, please, no, oh no, please!”

They were alternating between fingernails and fingertips. They were all over her naked feet as though she was being kissed by a thousand beetles, as though termites were scurrying all over her legs, her calves, her thighs

“Oh please no, no, I don’t want it!”

Fingers stimulated the skin around her nipples, prickling it so delicately that she writhed and tried desperately to evade their touch. Just then, the troll behind her began to lightly scurry his fingertips around and around her arms and underarms and down her sides and when they began to touch her hips she screamed.

The tickling stopped, suddenly. They seemed to melt into the darkness. She breathed heavily, panting, pulling at the ribbons to free herself. But she couldn’t. Then there were two hands either side of her head and darkness everywhere as a blindfold was fastened across her eyes and tied tight behind her skull.

At the first touch on the sole of her foot, she screamed. Fluttery butterflies teased her toe-tips, feathers tormented her sides and made her jerk left and right in a hopeless attempt to evade them. Fingertips played the soft skin around her nipples and tickled her belly button, at which she tried to pull herself free, raising her head off the board with sheer effort. Immediately she felt fingers tingle down her spine and she snapped back again.

They tickled up and down the soft sensitive skin of her inner thighs and she yearned for them to touch her between the legs. But they never did and she could feel her clit swelling inexorably, her whole body flushing and tingling and red and she couldn’t even hear her own shrieking anymore.

She couldn’t turn anywhere, she was writhing and begging them to stop, to help her orgasm, to touch her, to fuck her, such filthy words came out of her mouth and the crescendo of touching and tickling and writhing went on and on and on until she screamed and arched her back and shook with the agonising juddering release of the orgasm that she was powerless to resist.

Late at night, they dumped her, naked, apart from a pair of tight denim shorts, outside the door of their tower block. Jinx, the crack pink goddess of the TPS walked out of the troll estate barefoot, humiliated, shivering and filthy with the four orgasms they had tickled out of her.