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The Ugly Duckling

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Iron man flew across the length of the building. Loki was just up ahead, admiring the chaos he’d caused below. His was smirking. As a connoisseur of the smirking world, Tony would have rated it a type 3: Smug Bastard and Knows It.

“Hey you ugly bastard, heads up!” He yelled, and fired.

Normally he tried to put a little more effort into his insults, he aimed for style and panache. But they’d been fighting since midday, it was now night-time, and Tony was exhausted. This was his third suit of the fight, he’d depleted the charge in the others.
He was tired, so sue him.

What was strange was the way Loki reacted, or more importantly, didn’t react. He should have dodged the blast easily, but instead it caught him full on the chest and blew him back off the building. The last thing Tony saw was Loki’s expression. If anything the villain looked… hurt.

It didn’t matter. They won, Loki was vanquished, although the little bugger still managed to escape. Tony collapsed into bed without another thought for the green-clad trickster.


Loki managed to save himself from further injury by teleporting away to his apartment/lair. He stood trembling in the centre of the room for a few long minutes, fighting to get his emotions under control.

He wouldn’t cry he wouldn’t cry he wouldn’t cry he wouldn’t – damn, there were tears on his face. With a frustrated sob Loki hurried to the shower, where he could convince himself that the water wasn’t coming from him.


The first time Loki discovered he was ugly he had barely been able to walk. He and Thor were playing with the nannies in the nursery, while Frigga had her sisters over for tea and gossip. Loki did not know this. All he knew was that he wanted his mother, and she was next door. So he stood on wobbly legs and made his way through while the nannies were distracted by Thor.

He saw his mother sitting on the far side and let out a giggle of delight. The woman she had been talking to turned at the sound, caught sight of him and screamed in horror.

Loki fell backwards at her reaction, landing with a thump onto his bottom. His little face screwed up and fat tears began to fall. Frigga raced over to him and scooped him up, sending a glare at the other woman who, having recovered sufficiently from her shock was frantically apologising for her reaction. Loki didn’t care, he had his mother, and five minutes later he was happily sitting in her arms sucking on a biscuit.

The memory didn’t fade into the depths of time though. Loki’s mind held on to it and remembered.


Loki growled in annoyance at himself as the water thundered down onto his head. He knew he was ugly, he’d always known that his face was the worst possible combination of features. His hair, his eyes, everything! One little insult from a stupid mortal foe should not have thrown him so badly.


The stupid mortal had been Tony Stark, who as far as Loki could see was a lot like him. Same dark hair, same slim build. But Tony Stark had brown eyes, which were a far nicer colour than Loki’s green, and he had a beard, which Loki had never been able to grow.

So not very alike at all then. The insult had struck far deeper than it should have, but Loki could no longer throw off such things the way he had used to. Not since… no, don’t think about it.

He shook his head, but his thoughts would not be still. With a louder, more savage growl he turned off the water, rubbed a towel quickly over his body and pulled on some casual clothes. There was only one thing that worked when his thoughts would not be silent. He was going to get drunk.


When Loki was a child he met some of Thor’s friends. They were the children of the high born and they played lots of different games. Their favourite was ‘slaying the monster’. Loki was eager to join them. He wanted to be a part of this brave band of warriors who slayed the evil beast.

The children stared at him openly when Thor introduced them.

“This is my brother, Loki. He wants to play with us.” He said cheerfully.

After a moment, one of the children spoke.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Loki blinked in surprise. Thor frowned.

“Nothing’s wrong with him, he’s my brother.”

“He looks weird.” The child said. He was the biggest and the leader.

“He’s fine.” Thor said, frowning.

“He’s ugly.” A girl said. She had beautiful blond curls that cascaded down her back.

“Really ugly.” Said another child.

Loki looked at the ground.

“Please?” He said. “I just want to play.”

“Well,” the leader said.

“I know!” Said the girl. “He can be the monster!”

“Yes!” Said the leader, his face lighting up. “He looks just like a monster!”

“I don’t want to be the monster.” Loki said, but his voice was drowned out.

“Good idea, Sif.” Said the leader. “Loki, you can play if you be the monster.”

“But.” Loki protested.

He wanted to be a hero, a warrior, like all the rest. Normally their monsters were trees and statues and things of that nature.

“You can’t play unless you’re the monster.” The leader said.

Reluctantly, Loki nodded.

“Okay. Can I be a hero next time?” He asked.

“Maybe.” The leader said. “Now go to your lair, we’re going to approach.”

Loki turned away and climbed today’s lair. Thor looked uncertain for a minute, but the lure of playing the hero was too much, and he ran to join the others.

Loki played the monster every time. The one time he refused, because it was his birthday and he wanted to play the hero on his birthday, they left him alone to play by himself.


Loki made his way to the seedier area of the city and picked a bar at random. He was unlikely to encounter anyone here who would try to arrest him, and there was plenty of alcohol. He sat down at the bar and gave the barman a wad of cash.

“Keep going until I fall off the chair.” He snarled.

The barman put a bottle of whisky in front of him and left him to drink.

Three bottles later and the pain was just starting to numb.


When Loki first discovered the idea of sex he was still far too young to have any of it. But his own hand was a delightful companion and the world was full of beautiful people to admire and wonder about.

He knew that he had limitations. He was not dashing, and certainly not handsome. But he’d seen plenty of people who, if judging on looks alone, would never have the husbands or wives that they did. As far as he could tell, personality counted for a lot.

So he practiced his grace. He worked on his pretty words. He delighted, enchanted and charmed. He made friends with half the young woman of the Asgard court and more than a few of the men.

But when he suggested, quietly, gently, that perhaps they would like to walk with him privately, or maybe he might hold their hand, he was met with a flash of panic and polite, yet hasty refusals.

He told himself that there were plenty of them out there. He just had to work harder. One day he would find someone who could look beyond his outer shell.

By the time he reached his manhood he was starting to despair. He was old enough to start bedding now, his hand no longer provided quite what he was looking for. Thor had been bedding maids for years, and Loki… hadn’t. Not for lack of trying, but nothing he could say, no illusion he could muster, nothing at all in his great arsenal of tricks could entice someone into going to bed with him.

Not long after he mastered his invisibility spell he learned the truth why. The conversations has been painful to overhear. He was lovely, apparently. Sweet, charming, entertaining. They loved having him around and he was such a great listener. But would they bed him? No, oh dear no. His face! Well, it was monstrous! And his body, so slender, not like a real man’s. His hair was so dark and those green eyes! But… a really good friend.

Well that hurt.

Still, the flicker of hope inside of him refused to be stuffed out. That little flame was determined to keep burning. So he couldn’t convince someone to bed him. Father would find a *match* for him. He was the second Prince of Asgard, that was a great asset to his case. The mothers and fathers of the higher classes may not wish their daughters to bed him for fun, but surely a marriage was different.

He’d be good to them. He’d engage them in pleasant conversation; he’d never get mad or yell. He’d buy them gifts and tell them how pretty they were. He’d speak well to their parents and never complain about having to visit. He’d even wear a mask to bed if that made it easier. He’d be such a good husband that they would fall in love with him and his ugliness would no longer matter.

Bolstered by his thoughts, he began to spy on his father’s meetings in the hope of finding out who his bride would be.


Loki needed to pee. A side effect of drinking that could not be avoided. With extremely slurred instructions to the barman not to let anyone take his seat, he slid off the barstool and made his way outside.

The alley was the closest thing the bar had to a toilet. It stank of every other drinker who’d come through. Loki stumbled up to the wall and yanked at the fastenings on his pants. It took him a few goes but he managed to get them down. Then it was just a matter of finding a good staring spot.

He was thus occupied when he heard a voice to his right.

“Hey gorgeous, how many drinks I gotta buy you to get up in that sexy ass?”

Loki turned and found himself looking at a troll.

Well, the midgard equivalent.

As a reflex he turned to see who the troll was talking to.

There was no one behind him.

He turned back, confused. The troll was inches away from his face.

“Yeah.” It said. “You.”

Loki stared in drunken surprise. Was this some kind of joke? Had Tony Stark realised how much his barb had stung and tracked Loki down to taunt him with a man-troll?

Taking Loki’s silence as a form of consent. The man-troll reached in and clapped a hand on Loki’s naked arse.

“Wanna fuck?” He slurred.

The man-troll was tall, with fat everywhere, although especially on his gut. His breath smelt of stale beer and cigarettes. His face was not attractive and he was missing some teeth.

Loki felt his stomach crawl. This thing was hideous, a beast of some kind. The body odour alone made him want to gag.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” He said.

The man-troll leaned in so close their lips were almost touching.

“Yep.” He said. The grip on Loki’s arse tightened.

Loki didn’t know what to say. No one had *ever* called him that before. And the man-troll appeared to be serious.

Taking Loki’s lack of leaving as permission, the man-troll leaned in the last little way and pressed their lips together.

His first kiss. Loki was having his first kiss. It was… sloppy, and wet, and tasted disgusting and, wait, was that a tongue? Oh, okay, tongue. He stood frozen in shock as the man-troll grabbed the other half of his arse and pulled their bodies together.

Loki wasn’t entirely sure he liked the kiss. But when the man-troll started to pull away he found himself chasing it, suddenly desperate to make it last longer, and maybe get a little better before it was over. Other people could have dozens of kisses to get it right, hundreds even. This kiss might be his only one, it was important to try and make it as good as possible.

The man-troll grunted in response and pressed back into it again. It’s tongue was weird and slimy in Loki’s mouth but he persisted, trying to find the reason why this was such a popular activity. There had to be some kind of magic to it, a magic that he believe had been denied to him.


It took a lot of spying, but one day Loki was present for the conversation he had hoped to hear.

“Loki is old enough to marry now, you put his name out like I asked?”

“Yes your Majesty.” Odin’s assistant and advisor said. His face was tense.

Loki leaned forwards in his hiding place. Who was it going to be?

“And?” Odin said.

“No one has put their name forward.” The advisor said hurridly.

“No one?” Odin said incredulously. “He’s the second Prince of Asgard! You mean to say no one wishes for an alliance?”

“I’m afraid not, your Majesty. If he were the crown Prince it would be different, but, they don’t want their daughters to marry… well, I’m sorry to say it your Majesty but, Loki is…”

“I know his looks are not ideal.” Odin said with a slight wince. “But he is a good man.”

“I know, you Majesty. But the parents of Asgard do not want to see their daughters on his arm.” The advisor said gently.

In his hiding spot. Loki swallowed hard. Years of disappointment had made it difficult to shrug off the hurt he felt. Each new pain felt as though it were being added to the ones that came before. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go before he began to cry at the thought of his monstrous appearance and the loneliness it brought him.

Odin was looking at his desk. He looked sad.

“Perhaps he will find his own bride.” The king said sadly.

“Perhaps, he is young yet your Majesty.” The advisor said comfortingly.

There was no one to comfort Loki as he slipped away back to his rooms.

His thoughts for the next few months were not happy ones. He felt starved for contact, Thor would clap him on the shoulder and mother would hug him but the others avoided his skin at all costs. It was as though they were afraid they would catch something from him. But he wasn’t diseased, no Prince of Asgard would be permitted to go around carrying diseases. They treated him as though he were anyway.

In the years that followed, Loki began to wear tighter clothes, the restriction he felt as he moved sort of felt as though someone was hugging him. He practised his training and weight lifting until he was near collapse, desperate to put on muscle that never came. He went on every hunt Thor arranged and took down as many kills as he could. If he could just prove to Asgard that he was a proper warrior, despite his looks, maybe they would stop thinking of him as a monster.

He never wanted to be a monster.


In the alleyway the man-troll finally broke the kiss.

“Fuck yeah.” He said and dove straight back in.

Two kisses. He had two kisses. And two hands on his arse, and fingers poking up against his hole. This man-troll beast wanted to touch him.

It was like a drug. Despite the disgusting nature of the beast Loki couldn’t pull away. This thing *wanted* him. And even after so many centuries, Loki wanted to be wanted.

He stumbled, with his pants around his ankles he lost his balance and fell backwards. For a second he panicked, falling away from the focus of his need. He grabbed the man-troll as he fell and they went down together. The beast landed on top of him which would have seriously injured a mortal, such was the weight of it, but Loki was unharmed and grabbed desperately at the man-troll’s face to kiss him again.

“You ‘k” the beast slobbered against his mouth.

“Yes.” Loki gasped. “Yes.”

“Cool” The beast replied and kissed him hard. Loki let out a noise like a whine. The sort of sound he would never admit to making.

The man-troll’s fingers were really pressing now, and Loki felt a deep thrill of excitement at the thought of them pressing inside. He’d tried it with his own fingers, oh so many times now, but the thought of real sex, with another person was just overwhelming.

The man-troll reared up away from him. Making Loki gasp with a mixture of abandonment and fear. It couldn’t be over, not yet, he wasn’t ready to stop.

He opened his mouth to beg. To plead for a little more, just a little. But the man-troll was funmbling in his pockets.

“Fuck.” He said. “No lube.”

Loki felt his world freeze. NO! This was not happening, he was finally going to take someone to bed and it was going to be stopped because they had no oil.

“Without.” He gasped, mind whirling with an overwhelming need.

“Fuck no.” The man-troll said. “I’m not doing that.”

“Please.” Loki whispered. “Please, I can take it.”

He wasn’t sure if he could. He’d never had more than his fingers, and well oiled at that.

“No, no fucking fun.” The man-troll slurred.

He was going to leave. Loki looked around at the alley desperately. There was some slime on the ground. He’d landed in some of it. He scooped it up.

“Here!” he practically shouted, and forced the slime into his arse.

“Fuck you’re eager.” The man-troll said as he swayed above where Loki lay.

Loki pressed more inside of himself. His fingers slipped obscenely as he shoved as much as he could into is arse, trying not to think about where it came from or what it was made of.

“Do it.” He gasped as he wriggled, trying to get more in. “Please!”

The man-troll shrugged his shoulders.

“Okay babe” The man-troll grunted. “Why the fuck not?”

He leaned down and grabbed Loki’s pants and shoes. He pulled them off with a few tugs and tossed them aside before grabbing Loki under his knees and pulling his legs up and apart.

Loki’s head was spinning. He was going to have sex. Actual sex. In an alleyway. That stunk of piss.

Maybe that was where things like him belonged.

The man-troll lined the head of his penis to Loki’s hole and pushed inward with a grunt. Loki gasped at the feeling of being stretched. It was like his fingers, widening him, holding him open. Okay. Not like his fingers. Longer, ooooh longer. And wider too. Definitely wider. Whoa. Oh. Wow. Ah.

He whimpered under the man-troll as it pressed it’s full length into him. He gave a loud gasp as it’s penis slid past his pleasure spot and settled inside.

“You cool babe?” The man-troll groaned above him. It’s belly was pressing against his stomach, trapping his erection between them.

Loki moaned and sucked in a breath.

“Yes.” He managed. The feelings were so much more intense than he’d ever felt before. No wonder people liked to be bedded.

The man-troll thrust forwards, introducing a whole new set of feelings to the equation. Loki moaned beneath him. He reached his arms up and tried to hold on to the big belly as its owner heaved back and forth.

The rubbing of the belly on his penis was doing a fine job of stimulating him, and there were no words in his considerable vocabulary to describe the feeling of being penetrated.

“Fuck you’re tight.” The man-troll grunted as they moved.

It didn’t take long. They were both drunk and their rhythm was soon fast and loud. Loki was screaming below the beast. Snarling with this longed for and finally obtained pleasure.

He came with a cry, spilling his seed between them. The beast kept heaving for a few more minutes. Loki could feel the hard ground of the alley, smell the stench in the air, the cold wind on his exposed lower half. Then he felt the spurt of heat inside of him. The beast emptying it’s load.

They lay together for a minute. Getting their breath back, finally the man-troll lifted himself off with a grunt.

“Fuck babe that was fucking good.”

Loki raised him head and looked at the man-troll as it rose and pulled it’s pants up. He felt exposed and a little nervous. It had felt so good and now it was over. He didn’t want it to be over.

“Can we do it again?” He asked, embarrassed by the tremble in his voice.

“You wanna come back to my place?” The man-troll asked.

Loki nodded. He wasn’t sure if that meant they were going to do it again but he didn’t want to miss out if it did.

He pulled his pants back on and hurriedly did up his shoes. His hands shook the whole time, as though if he kept the beast waiting it would lose interest and abandon him.

They stumbled down the street together. The man-troll wrapped his arm around Loki’s waist and squeezed him tightly.

“Fuck you’re beautiful.” He whispered in Loki’s ear.

It was worth the smell just to hear those words. It was the first time Loki had ever had them directed at him, and better yet the man-troll sounded serious.