{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"09bd43d0-0672-409b-8e32-3059b5895878","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2025-10-19T06:01:53.341Z","title":"Davinda and Goliath-Tiny/Huge","slug":"davinda-and-goliath-tinyhuge","shortId":"U2E0bFtu","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A short Ponyplay story I wrote for the October event on another site. Although as usual with my stories there is not a lot of 'play' in it!","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"f0fbc655-1dd6-412b-9657-64a8d3ee213a","title":"Davinda and Golliath-Tiny/Huge","summary":" Davinda and Goliath-Tiny/Huge They crested the low hill at the usual canter, then stopped","wordCount":2977,"readTime":15,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Davinda and Golliath-Tiny/Huge","content":"

Davinda and Goliath-Tiny/Huge

They crested the low hill at the usual canter, then stopped, Davinda wanting to make sure her mount had something left in its tank for the final ride home. The sweating, panting mare, named Jumana, clamped tightly between her thighs, didn’t have a tank, of course, but it was a useful expression; she knew what it meant, and that was all that counted.

“Whoa, girl, whoa!” the green-skinned Goblin girl, Davinda, yanked hard on the reins attached to the drool-smeared mouth bit of her blown and near-exhausted mount, bringing the beast to a shuddering halt. The big mare managed to arrest its forward momentum with only a couple of extra strides before it stood motionless just beyond the point where the dusty track began its winding descent to the plain below.

Or relatively motionless, its hoofs and lower limbs trembling slightly while the creature's heaving chest desperately fought to regain its breath, its mouth twisting back and forth, working that cruel bit in an effort to suck more life-giving air into its lungs. A desperate activity broken only when it squealed aloud in agony as the young female goblin mounted high on its back raised the long, slender switch she was holding and slashed the mare's right rump cheek with practised savagery.

“Stupid, disobedient animal!” the small green figure with long pointed ear snarled, as that switch delivered a second blow upon that same whip-scarred surface. “You Whoa when I say Whoa! You stop immediately, you fucking fat pony dumbwit! Not when you feel like it!”

This time, the mare's hooves did move up and down as it jumped slightly under the onslaught of two further blows from that slim, fearsome, cutting switch in its rider's small hand. The beast couldn’t help it; the agony was intense, and this was already on top of all the other ‘encouragements’ it had endured since the young Goblin teen had mounted her back at the stable an hour or so ago.

“You obey, you fucking useless creature! Now back up, back, back, back, I said,” the switch slashed down again, but this time upon flank rather than rump as the mare shuffled slowly backwards.

“Who, whoa, that’s better, girl! I want us to enjoy the view from the top, not halfway down. The young green-hued girl observed almost conversationally, leaning forward and gently patting the side of her mount's head—an act seemingly at odds with how she’d use that terrible riding switch only moments before.

It wasn’t actually much of a view, mostly desert, rock, sand, and gravel—various shades of yellow, tan, brown and some flashes of red and orange. There were a few bits of greenery Davinda knew, but you’d have to be virtually on top of them to see any colour. There was the black straight line going on forever till it was lost in the far-distant haze, the single-track tarmac strip that was the land link between the extensive compound below and the rest of the vast country.

Now the young Goblin girl could see greenery —trees, grass, hedges, lawns, and so forth — down in the compound below, and that was set by and including an oasis of clean, fresh water. A one-time little-used watering spot for desert nomads, but now a very lush and sophisticated establishment that the girl had visited numerous times over the past few years. Her father had many business dealings and ties with the owner, who was also a senior member of the country's ruling clan.

It was a vast country as well, and sparsely populated — at least here in the hinterland, deep into the hinterland, for the coast was a long way away. Davinda had flown in as usual with her parents, landing on the private airstrip, that long, long rectangle of white concrete that contrasted so sharply with the black of the road. Strange that they both showed up so clearly when you’d have thought the all-pervading desert dust would have covered them.

The young goblin girl let the reins slip from her left hand and smacked her thigh even as she was thinking, watching the fine cloaking dust fly up from her skin-tight riding breeches, and sighed. ‘Might as well wear shorts or something more comfortable, given how this fucking stuff gets everywhere’ Why couldn’t today have been a ‘free day’ when formality took a back seat?

Davinda didn’t need a mirror to know that her peaked black riding hat and smart but non-too comfortable conventional scarlet riding jacket would both be more dun coloured after her hour or so in the saddle. You couldn’t really see the stuff, but it was always there, and after every outing like this, you came back with more than your fair share of the local geology, providing a fine coating to your clothes. Stupid event with strict dress code rules!

It was her mother's fault; she always wanted to attend whenever they had a themed event! Mummy just loves playing dress-up —why did it have to apply to the stables? When did Goblins ever wear such formal attire? It wasn’t like they went Fox Hunting in the shires or competed at prestigious equine events!

First thing, once she got back to her room, would be to brush her teeth. She could feel that ultra-fine grit in her mouth —probably good for plaque, better even than flossing — but, like, yuck! Her water bottle was empty as well, which wasn’t a good thing out here. There were a few drops left in big Jumana’s bottle, but again, yuck! Did she really want to drink out of a bottle that she’d used to water her mount? Nope, and besides, it was only a short trip back to the compound and stable from here. Well, shortish and for a good part, downhill.

The young goblin girl absently rubbed her mount's right ear and giggled to herself. Only half as far, of course, if she galloped as she intended. “Well, we’ll get there in half the time, so it must be half the distance, eh, Girl!” she giggled again, still absently tweaking at the pony's ear till it squeaked audibly despite its mouth bit.

Strange that that road there always stayed so black-looking despite the wretched dust. Mind you, it did get quite windy at night; you could really hear it sometimes, even above the noise of the air conditioning that ran twenty-four seven in the accommodation areas and during the day in the stables, when people were working there. Their host didn’t bother with it at night, not for his extensive equine collection. A little bit of sweat wouldn’t hurt the numerous colts, stallions, fillies, and mares stalled within, nor any of the other exotic creatures he owned.

The Goblin girl chuckled to herself. Very much the opposite, she thought. What was a little sweat and heat discomfort during the hours of darkness, compared to the ‘heat’ and painful discomfort the poor animals receive during the daylight hours, air conditioning notwithstanding.

“View Halooooooo!”

Davinda twisted around on the small saddle to look back to where another rider was trotting up the track. The green-faced figure in the saddle waved a riding switch aloft, then brought it down sharply, with a crack, as it encouraged the big stallion he was riding into a fast canter.

“Heya Tommy”, Davinda said a tad coldly to the similarly clad green faced Goblin youth sitting atop the enormous stallion as it was reined in to a halt.

“S’up with you?” The boy looked a little surprised by his cool reception. “She’d been okay the evening before. Their congenial host owned shares in a major electronic games company, and he’d got his hands on the latest Switch 2 blockbuster pre-official release, and they’d spent the evening sharing the same couch and TV playing it. He thought she was pretty cute, and she thought he was cool, so why the sudden chill?

“I’m not talking to you, that’s what's up!”

Tommy looked a little nonplussed and wiped a hand across his sweaty cheek. Was she still pissed off because he’d beaten her in the last game, he wondered or had she cottoned on that he’d let her win the one before? Surely not, for they’d parted on the best of terms.

“You’ve got Goliath”, Davinda accused, stabbing a small green finger with a bright pink painted nail towards his sweating, gasping mount. “That's what's up! “I always ride him when we come here, well, almost always”, she corrected herself. “I suppose it's my fault, though, I didn’t book him for this morning because he has a reputation for being troublesome, so he’s usually free”, she conceded.

“Sorry, I didn’t know that. I usually go for a female mount, but I fancied something a bit different for a change. I rode out on Ranya last time, but she’s a bit old and kinda sad if you know what I mean. I saw in the book that this big bugger was free, so I put my name down. Laila warned me that he might be a bit of a handful. I thought she was going to say no at first, but then she decided I’d maybe got enough experience to ride him if I was careful”.

“That doesn’t sound like Laila!”

Tommy grinned ruefully. ‘Well, what she actually said was ‘alright, go ahead, if he chucks you off and you break your silly neck, don’t come complaining to me or my father!’ You know how she can be?”

Davinda laughed. “Yeah, I know. Our kindly hosts’ youngest and meanest at her very best….or worst! Well, it looks like your necks still intact. How did you find him?”

Tommy considered and wiped at his face again. The morning sun was rising higher, and it didn’t take long for the desert to shed the overnight chill and start heating up, and he sweated easily. “Mettlesome”, he answered after some deliberation, while male machismo momentarily struggled with honesty before the latter won out.

Davinda laughed. “Good word”, she agreed and hefted her switch. “I always give him an early dusting with this wicked toy just so’s he understands what's what and who’s who from the very beginning when I take him for a little outing. Leastways I used to, but he’s been a tad less frisky since he got to know me better! Last time Dad was here on business, we stayed nearly a fortnight and I rode him every single day! She giggled and winked. “Not the kind of riding Mister horny Stallion here would doubtlessly like to do with his impressive but locked up boy bit, but the kind of riding I love and he hates!”

“Dusting!” Tommy grinned. “That’s also a good word”. He raised his switch and whipped it through the air. “Goliath and I had a little….little, you might say, difference of opinion shortly after we set off, well, virtually outside the stable if I’m honest. Fortunately, Lalia had taken herself off elsewhere, so I hitched him to a convenient post, nipped inside and borrowed a whip and…” he grinned and gave her a slow wink. “Let's just say that when we resumed our interrupted outing, he was somewhat more amenable, even enthusiastic about the idea after I gave him a dusting!”

The gobin girl laughed, “Yeah, I can imagine. Amazing how enthusiastic they become after a good whipping, I kind of miss that. I’ve done the same and more than once. Your big brute knows me well enough now to behave himself, which was more than this silly big old mare did. She tried to get a little —what was it? Mettlesome, first thing, didn’t you silly girl?” Davinda stroked her mount's head gently and then laughed. “Not for long, though! Just because I’m young and on the small side doesn’t mean you can take liberties, silly animal”.

“Probably not used to being ridden”, Tommy observed. “I’m a year older than you, but neither of us is exactly a heavyweight. Most of the time, they pull carts and other stuff like ploughs and lawn rollers, so I expect that’s why, and…Hey, Davinda and Goliath, that's kind of cute, like biblical —you get it?

“Naturally, that’s what I thought the first time Daddy brought me here, and I saw big boy here and pointed out the name on his stall. Not that I started off on him, but I always go for him now when we visit. Apart from the fact that he’s the biggest animal they’ve got, that biblical thing always appealed to me somehow, David and Goliath, big and small, tiny and huge. Besides, it's kind of appropriate as we’re in the region, the Holy Land, as they say.

Tommy roared with laughter and pointed down the hill to their hosts' little place in the country, complete with a private road, airfield, green oasis, and a building complex the size of a small European village. “Yeah, very holy, I don’t think knowing the Sheikh and Lalia. Besides, this is Arabia, you might see the odd camel, but the bit you're thinking of is over …” he looked around, undecidedly. Then he waved his hand in every direction, “Over thataways about fifteen hundred miles, I reckon. Wanna swap mounts, and we can race home, and then you can try and beat me again on the consoles before we gotta go green again for dinner, sheesh!”

Davinda smiled,” Yeah, well, Lalia feels much the same as we do. The next event is going to be much more fun, and we’ll get to ride for sure. Western themed, I gather, cowboys and cowgirls and so forth, rounding up wild steers and mustangs as well from the hints she dropped.” Davinda pointed with her long switch. “You do know you're all damp and streaky, that green is coming off, must be an inferior brand of face paint”.

Tommy wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked irritably at it. “Fucking gunk, I hate it. Why bloody Goblins, Trolls and Orcs anyway? Last time, when the theme was ancient Greece and Rome, it was so much easier just to wrap a sheet around yourself and wear the green leaf thing on your head. None of this having to smear green stuff over every exposed part. Did you see my mum last night playing she ogre, frightful, and by the way, one of your pointy ears looks to have gone AWOL!”

“Whoops!” Davinda put a hand to her head, then shrugged. “Oh, screw it, okay, horsie swapsies and no going until we're both ready!”

“Fair do’s. Goliath looks about as knackered as yours does, so it ought to be a fair race. You should win, though, he’s bigger than…than, what’s her name.

“Jumana, it means Silver Pearl or something like that in Arabic, I think. Dutch girl used to be something to do with the local airline until she pissed off one of her bosses big-time. Leastways that’s what the groom told me. I’ll give you a start, I’ll count to ten, no, say five. She’s still got a bit in the tank, and you're not that much bigger than me. I’ve laid off her fat udders, saving them for the final gallop back, so give them a bit of aggro with your whip, that should make her shake her lazy butt a bit”

Tommy laughed wickedly as they both gave the ‘down’ command simultaneously, both ponies obediently dropping to one knee to allow their riders to dismount and swap over. Naturally, they’d heard and understood every word of the conversation between the older teens, but both had been in harness long enough to obey promptly.

“Ready”, Tommy asked as Jumana obeyed the curt ‘Up’ command after he’d swung into the saddle and settled him self.

“One sec. I need to shorten your stirrups. I’m a titch with very short legs, short compared to yours anyway”

“Oh, they look okay to me. Perfectly proportioned, and I like those tight riding breeches by the way. Very sexy”

Davinda giggled and blew him a kiss before mounting Goliath. The green-faced girl leaned forward and whispered into her new mount's ear. “Now, big boy, you know me, don’t you. I’ll give Tommy at least a count of ten, and maybe more, but you're still going to win for me. Daddy’s said I can have my own two-legged pony for my next birthday when we buy that big new house in the countryside that Mummy wants, and I might decide you fit the bill. Of course, once I own you, there’ll be no Miss Lalia or interfering stable hand to step in once I'm whipping you good and hard like you fucking well deserve. Lose and I promise I’ll get him to buy my present early and make you look like a fucking Zebra before I go home! I’m Tiny and you're Huge, but we both know that makes no difference when one of us is all tied up in that sexy harness leather with no arms and hoof boots instead of feet, so it’s gonna be no contest, and besides, Daddy might insist on my having a gelding, so think on that as well!”

“Ready?”

“Oh yes, we’re more than ready, aren’t we, big boy?” Davinda raked Goliath's flanks with her spurs, delighting in the way he responded to the cruel act and tapped his right flank with her switch.

“Go!”

Goliath stared miserably straight ahead at the winding track, his vision impaired by the blinkers he wore. Three long years he’d been in that wretched stable, three terrible years, but win or lose, his life could only get worse. The green-painted teen, perched high on his back, was right. She was tiny compared to his huge ex-pro footballer bulk, but, harnessed and helpless as he was, she held the whip hand. A whip that was potentially more deadly to him than any ancient slingshot and could swiftly bring him to heel, and twelve seconds later, it joined those terrible spurs in galvanising him into instant action! His namesake had only faced his ancient nemesis once, whereas he………

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