Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This couldn't be the place, could it? Tizz stood at the gate. The sign was clear enough. A garish thing. The metal letters screamed "Prof. Maxy's Science Emporium!", installed inside a giant glass test tube. This place had been a nice resort way back. Before the Cataclysm.

Tizz entered the compound. For a science establishment, it sure still kept the vibe of the resort. There was a swimming pool, the storage sheds in the yard had clearly been shops selling knickknacks at some point. The main building was the former hotel, fallen into disrepair over the years. The goblin followed the signs towards the reception area.

Even the staff here looked more like vacationers than researchers. They all wore swimsuits, though a few had labcoats on over them. The majority were goblins. No wonder, this establishment was a stone's throw from Ratchet, in the neutral area administered by the Steamwheedle Cartel. Tizz could easily spot the difference between the research staff and the security. The researchers all had that nerdy look to them. The security consisted mainly of muscular orcs and burly humans, no doubt recruited from ship crews. It was a real problem here in Ratchet - crews would drop off sailors, and those sailors would grow bored and violent as they waited to be picked up by another crew. Good on the Professor for hiring them on.

There was color coding at play here. The researchers wore green swimsuits. The security had black ones on. There were some people in red ones with numbers written on the back side of the swimsuit. They looked far too normal to be part of the staff. Test subjects?

The general lack of hygiene jumped out at Tizz. There was trash strewn about the facility, half-full glasses and unifinished meals left out on the tables. And the smells! Every time she passed one of the locals, the stink hit her immediately. Some of it was just natural body odor unsuppressed by deodorant. But some of it was true reek. The head-spinning musk of a week or more without a bath. There was a lot of itching and scratchin going on, too. Tizz saw a male goblin researcher stretched out on a deckchair, pawing at his own balls. There, one of the guardswomen with her ass shoved into a wooden lamp pole, sending it shaking as she rubbed up and down. A night elf test subject sitting crosslegged on the ground as four of the researchers scratched her on the head.

It dawned on Tizz she'd be in one of those green bikinis too. She was never one to go to the beach. She had done her research on this place. The Professor's so-called science facility had turned out to be nothing but a glorified resort for perverts. Tizz' kind of place. Nobody mentioned anything about bring-your-own-swimsuit, though.

The reception area only had a distant memory of the swanky hotel it had once adorned. Dusty, chipped wood walls, a torn up carpet. The desk was the only thing in a presentable condition. Tizz sat in the chair before the desk, looked around. Nobody was coming. She rang the dainty little silver bell.

The noise was anything but dainty. Klaxons blared everywhere. One right behind her, a few outside, one upstairs. Tizz jumped out of the chair.

"Good morning, miss!"
A goblin woman had just entered. She looked to be in her early thirties, her teal hair tied back into a tight bun. She had that odd ugly-cuteness about her face that passed for being pretty with the goblins. Her build was plump and that revealing purple bikini she wore accentuated her fatness in all the right ways. Tizz bit her lip. She had not actually met the Professor yet. And damn if she wasn't a snack.
"Good morning, Professor."

Chapter Text

The silence was broken only by the rustling of paper. Professor Maxy sat behind that reception desk, thumbing through the documents Tizz had brought in. Her resume, a letter of recommendation from the alchemy lab she'd worked for back in Orgrimmar, a list of concoctions she knew how to prepare graded by the Ratchet Commercial Authority. And last but certainly not least: a list of all her turn-ons and kinks. Needless to say, the Professor focused mainly on that last piece of paper.

Tizz had become a ball of nerves wrapped tightly around a core of anxiety. Getting reviewed by an authority was bad enough on its own. This authority was a total smokeshow - and it made it worse. Tizz could not help herself. Her eyes constantly drifted towards the Professor's ample, heaving breasts and stomach. Every time Maxy looked back at Tizz, her heart skipped a beat and her eyes darted up from the flesh on display to try and make eye contact.

The Professor stank, too. An intoxicating musky aroma. Carefully curated goblin body odor filled the room. Drops of sweat graced the Prof's skin. Tizz wondered what it would be like to lick it all up.

"Hey! Hey! Quit the daydreaming."

Tizz opened her eyes. Maxy had put her bare feet up on the desk. No surprise there. Entry 36 on her kink list - Feet. I like them smelly. Kisses, licking, footrubs, footjobs. Giving and receiving.

"Get to work while I talk."
"What do you mean, miss Professor?"
"Massage. Come on."
Tizz obeyed. She took hold of Maxy's left foot. It was warm, sweaty. And the smell was divine. The sharp scent invaded her nose.
"You've really done your research, haven't you? First time I have someone explicitly tell me just what she was into." Maxy waved the sheet of kinks at Tizz.
"Of course, Professor. It's good practice to look up an employer, isn't it?"
"It is. Good on you. Last thing I need is wasting time with prudes that fuck off before even talking with me."
Tizz cracked Maxy's toes. The professor gave a tiny little moan.
"So yeah, you're hired. First things first - physical inspection and uniform."

***

"I was under the impression the Professor does the physical checkups?"
Tizz left her bags in the corner of the room. It was in the basement, poorly ventilated and without windows. It smelled like a locker room. Like she had just shoved her entire head into a bin of used jockstraps. The researcher in charge was a short, skinny goblin. In addition to her ratty old bikini, she had a leather belt with various tools in it. There was a loop holding a clipboard, wrenches, screwdrivers, pens, even a spoon.
"Not anymore, girlie. Strip."

This would take some time getting used to. The other woman ogled Tizz without a drop of shame as she undressed. She folded her shirt and skirt neatly on the bench in the corner. A creeping sensation crawled all over her. She could practically feel the other woman's gaze devour her red lacy panties and bra.
"Nice underthings. Gotta take 'em off too, though."
"I do?"
"Mhm."
Such a shame. Tizz knew about this part of the hiring process. She'd bought the lingerie specifically to impress the Prof. The lace was scratchy in all the wrong places - and she'd worn it just so this perv could tell her to toss it aside! It was a relief to finally get out of it.
"State name, residence, species, age." said the researcher as she grabbed the clipboard off her belt.
"Tizzalie Groovecrank. Tizz for short. Goblin, Booty Bay born, Ratchet since fifteen years ago. Steamwheedle Cartel. Age 27."
"Good." She wrote it down. "Recent history of any intimate disease?"
"None. I got a doctor's note!"

The researcher started to pace around the naked Tizz. She spoke to herself as she took her notes.
"Subject is very tall - Four foot seven or thereabouts. Slim build."
Tizz hopped up and yelped. The woman had just grabbed her butt!
"Buttocks firm, full. Breasts larger than expected for the build. Penis - probably around five inches in excited state. Very lovely dick, too!"
She grabbed the magnifying glass from the belt. First, she had Tizz bent her head down. She looked closely through her hair - then repeated the exercise with Tizzy's pubes. She allowed herself to grab at Tizz' dick and balls in the process, too.
"Hey! Handsy, aren't we."
"Subject is free of fleas, lice and crabs for now."
"What do you mean for now?!"
The researcher ignored the question.
"Please go to the lockers and get yourself in uniform."

Tizz had thought entering this room was like putting her head in a barrel of sweaty jockstraps. She had been wrong. It was like hovering her head above one. When that researcher opened the locker of swimsuit-uniforms for her, Tizzy was thrown into a new dimension of stench. Didn't they ever wash these things? She turned her head, coughed and gagged.

It took her a minute to regain her composure. Tizz turned back to the reeking pile of swimsuits. It was a total mess. There were suits of all styles, shapes and sizes. Only one common thing - they were all green.

Tizz had to really dig in to find anything in her size. Finally, she settled on a sensible pair of high-waisted bottoms with decent coverage in the back, and a push-up top. They smelled of the last woman that had worn them. That unidentified goblin had not been a fan of showers. Tizz shook the things quite thoroughly, closely inspected them for any parasites. Satisfied with the check, she slipped the dirty green swimsuit on.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The bikini was a decent enough fit. Whether it was psychological or the swimsuit was just that dirty, it itched. Tizz scratched her butt, grinned back at herself in the mirror.
"Hi there, Researcher Tizzalie."